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Starting this month, I’ll be doing some quarterly virtual book recommendation events with the Ashland Public Library! I’ll be sharing some fantasy and science fiction book recommendations on Zoom on from 6:30 to 7:00 PM EDT on Thursday, May 15, and if you want to join us for the first of these events later this month, you can register here.

The post Virtual Sci-Fi/Fantasy Book Recommendations Event first appeared on Fantasy Cafe.

We are back from vacation! Clearly, a thousand ships have been launched while we were gone.

Before we delve: if you would like to reread The Inheritance from the beginning, uninterrupted, click The Inheritance tag under the post title. We now have a front page banner, and we would like to introduce Candice Slater, the talented artist who will be illustrating chapters for us. You can find her Instagram account here.

Artwork by Candice Slater

The cave passage stretched in front of me, a narrow tunnel painted with bioluminescent swirls of strange vegetation with a stream trickling along the left wall. The passage split about thirty yards ahead, with one branch curving to the right and the other cutting straight into the gloom. 

I had a light on my hard hat but decided against using it. It didn’t illuminate much, while making me easy to target, and I had no idea how long the battery would last. It was better to save it for emergencies. The pale green and pink radiance of the foreign fungi and lichens offered some light but it made the darkness seem even deeper.

It was like I’d turned five years old again, lying in my bed in the middle of the night, too afraid to move, until the need to pee won out and forced me to make a mad dash to the bathroom. Except that back then, if I got really scared, I could flick the lights on. As long as you had electric light, it gave you an illusion of safety and control. Without it, I felt naked. It was just me, Bear, and the tunnels filled with underground dusk.

There would be no dashing here. We would go carefully, quietly, and slowly.

A cold draft flowed from the tunnel, bringing with it an odd acrid stench.

Bear whined softly by my side.

Whining seemed entirely appropriate. I didn’t want to go into that gloom either.

“We don’t have a choice,” I told the dog.

Something rustled in the darkness, a strange whispering sound.

Bear hid behind me.

“Some attack dog you are.”

That’s probably why she survived. If she were braver, she’d be dead.

“The exit is to our left. This is the closest tunnel to it. The other two branch off to the right, which will take us further from the gate. This is our best bet for getting out.”

Bear put her ears back.

“It will be okay. Well, no, it probably won’t be, but staying here isn’t an option. Come on, Bear.”

I started forward and tugged on the leash. She resisted a little, but then changed her mind, and followed me through the passage. We picked our way through the glowing growth. It looked almost like a coral reef that had somehow sprouted on dry ground.

We reached the fork. The stream flowed from the right branch, with a scattering of luminous plants along its banks. It promised light, but the banks were narrow and strewn with rocks and water would attract predators. We needed to hang left anyway, so I took the other path, straight into the gloom, and kept moving. The tunnel was about thirty feet high and probably the same width. An almost round a hole in the rock, as if some massive worm had burrowed through the mountain. Hopefully not.

The passage veered slightly left, then angled right. Normally, cave passages like this varied in size and shape. This one was too uniform. Whatever dug it out had to be huge.

Time stretched. We trudged forward, following the curves of the passageway. Occasionally Bear paused, listening to something I couldn’t hear. I let her take her time.

Back by the entrance, we’d passed by some stalker bodies, and Elena mentioned that the assault team didn’t wipe them all out. Taking on a single stalker would be difficult.  There had been eight corpses, and the stalkers typically traveled in groups. If a pack of them attacked us, the best strategy would be to run and hope the tunnel narrowed ahead so they could only come at me one at a time. If I saw a crevasse, I would have to make a note of it in case I needed to double back…

For some reason, I could actually see both sides of the tunnel now with a lot of clarity. My eyes should have adjusted to the darkness, that was to be expected, but I could pick out small details now, like the cracks in the stone. The walls weren’t glowing, and the shining growth in this area was kind of sparse. Hmm.

We rounded another gentle turn, and I stopped. Ahead ridges of growth sheathed the floor and walls of the tunnel, like someone had raked solid stone into shallow curving rows. Between them bright red plants thrust out, shaped a little like branching cacti or Sinularia corals, almost like alien hands with long twisted fingers decorated with narrow frills. The tallest of them was about two feet high, but most were around eight inches or so. There were hundreds of them in the tunnel. The red patch stretched into the distance. Forty yards? Fifty?

Something about the red plants gave me pause. I crouched by the nearest patch. The frilly protrusions weren’t leaves. They were thorns, flat and razor sharp.

I flexed, accessing my talent. The red patch snapped into crystal clarity, flaring with a bright purple. Not helpful. Red was usually valuable, blue was toxic, orange was dangerous, but purple could be whatever.

I focused, trying to dig deeper.

The Grasping Hand. The thorns carried lethal poison. If one of those cut me or Bear, we would die in seconds, and the Hand would devour our bodies. In the distance, I could see a lump that was once a living creature, soon to become one of those ridges, drained of all fluids.

How did I know that? This hadn’t been in any of the briefings. I had never seen this before. I hadn’t read about it, no one had talked about it, and I should not have detailed knowledge of this carnivorous invertebrate. I shouldn’t have even known it was an invertebrate. The best my talent could do was identify it as animal and possibly dangerous.

The knowledge was just in my head. I flexed again, concentrating on the bright red stems.

A dark plateau unrolled in front of me, acres and acres of red stems, some twenty-feet-high, blanketing purple rock with giant dinosaur like reptiles thrusting through the growth, the stinging thorns sliding harmlessly from their bony carapace…

This was not my memory.

Fear washed over me. My heart pounded in my chest. I went hot, then cold. What the hell was happening to me?

Bear nudged me with her cold nose. I petted her, running my hand over her fur, trying to slow my breathing. Was this my inheritance? Memories from I didn’t know who obtained I had no idea where.

I stared at the patch. I could have a nervous breakdown right here and now, or I could keep going. 

It didn’t matter where the damned memory came from. It warned me about the danger. It might not have been mine, but I knew it was true. Blundering into that growth was certain death.

The Grasping Hand grew in clusters, probably determined by the availability of nutrients. Each of those clumps or ridges used to be a body. This growth was relatively young, the stems short and somewhat sparse.

If I was careful, I could pick my way through it. The problem was Bear. There was no way to communicate to the dog that she had to stay away from the thorns. One tiny scratch and it would be all over. I had to keep Bear safe. No matter what it took. I owed it to Stella, and if Bear died… Bear couldn’t die. We would leave this place together.

I could carry her. She was a big dog, she had to weigh… I flexed again. Eighty-two pounds. And that was a lot more precise than normal. I could usually ballpark weight and distance but not with that much accuracy. Something told me that if I concentrated, I could probably narrow it down to ounces. Fuck me.

I focused on the field of red. Forty-eight yards or one hundred and forty-four feet.

Great. All I had to do was pick up an eighty-pound dog and carry her across half the length of a football field. While carefully avoiding deadly thorns.

I could always double back and try one of the other tunnels. But none of the other passages led toward the exit. We’d been walking for what felt like hours. It would be a long trip back, and there was no guarantee we wouldn’t run across this same problem in another tunnel.

Also, very few things could get through the Grasping Hand without some kind of body armor. It was a deterrent, a little bit of safety behind us. Nothing would come at us through that patch.

If I put Bear on my shoulders, I could make it. But not while I carried the backpack. The canteens were bulky and heavy, and the backpack pulled on me. If Bear squirmed, she would throw me off balance and both of us would land right into the thorns. It was the pack or the dog.

All of the water and food we had was in that pack. I could try to throw it ahead of me, but there was no telling where it would land or how far. Dragging it behind me was out of the question. It could get stuck and pull me back, and the thorns would either shred it or deposit poison on it. I had no effective way to neutralize it. 

If I got through, I could find a safe spot on the other side, tie Bear to something, and come back for the pack. Yes, that had to be it.

I dropped the pack, pulled a second canteen out, and hung it on my coveralls. I had to take only what I absolutely needed. The antibacterial gel, a couple of bandages, knife, a single candy bar, and Motrin went into my pockets. That was all that could fit.

God, I didn’t want to leave the pack behind, but Bear mattered more. It would be fine. I would come back for it.

I took off my hard hat, pulled one of the spare canteens out of the backpack, poured water into the hat, and offered it to Bear.  She lapped at it. I drank what was left in the canteen and waited until the shepherd stopped drinking. I took the hat, tapped it on the ground to get the last of the liquid out, and put it back on my head. It was the only helmet I had.

There was a command guild dogs were taught to make them easy to carry. I’d heard the handlers use it before. What the hell was it? Lie, rest… Limp. Limp, it was limp.

I tore the packet of jerky open, pulled a piece out, and offered it to Bear. She sniffed it and gently took it out of my hand.

“Good girl. See? We’re friends.”

I took another piece of jerky and crouched by the shepherd. “Limp, Bear.”

She stared at me.

“Limp.”

Another puzzled look.

I was sure that was the right command. I scooted close to her and put my arm around her. Please don’t bite me.  “Limp.”

The shepherd leaned against me, slumping over. I put my hands around her hind and front legs and heaved her up onto my shoulders.  If she were a human, it would be fireman carry, but since she was a dog, it was more like a fur collar. I stood up.

Bear made a surprised noise halfway between a whine and a growl. I offered her another piece of jerky. A warm wet tongue licked my fingers, and she swiped the jerky from me.

“Good girl. Stay. Limp.”

I put my hands on her legs, took a deep breath, and walked into the field of red death.

Ten feet.  Fifteen. Twenty-five…

I zigzagged through the field, threading the needle between the thorn ridges.

If Cold Chaos alerted the DDC that I died, the government would sit on that news until my body was recovered or the breach was closed, at which point I would be officially presumed dead, and they would notify the kids. There would be nobody to cushion the blow.

Roger was out of the picture. His father and stepmother basically disowned him in favor of his younger brother and never showed any interest in our kids.

My mother was unreachable. After my father died a decade ago of a heart attack, she moved back to her native UK, and I didn’t even have her phone number. My mother viewed having children as a duty she had to fulfill. She had me, she provided food and shelter until I reached adulthood, and that was the end of her obligation to me and society in general.

I was an only child, and I didn’t have any friends, at least none who would step in. I did have an excellent lawyer and a will, but the kids would need warmth and kindness.

I had to make it home.

Sixty feet. Almost halfway there. Slow is smooth and smooth is fast. I would make Melissa eat those words when I got out.

Bear must’ve been a shoulder cat in another life because she sat steady like a rock. Come to think of it, carrying her should’ve been a lot harder. Maybe it was the adrenaline…

Bear stiffened under my hand. A low growl rumbled from her mouth. She craned her neck, looking at something in the tunnel behind me. I didn’t have room to turn around and check what was happening. 

Ninety feet.

Another growl.

Running would get us killed. I wove my way through the ridges. Whatever was coming up behind us would have to deal with the Grasping Hand as well. It would be fine.

Growl.

One hundred and twenty feet.

Fine. Just fine.

A dry skittering noise came from behind me. It sounded insectoid as if a giant cockroach was scrambling through the tunnel at top speed.

Bear snarled, trying to lunge off my shoulders. I wobbled, careened, caught myself at the last moment and kept going, feverishly trying to keep from slicing my legs to ribbons.

Bear erupted into barks, jerking me to and fro.

“Stay! Limp! Stay!”

The chittering chased us.

Almost there. Almost through. Just a little longer. Just a little bit…

Bear threw herself to the left. I spun in place, my boot catching on the nearest clump of thorns, shied the other way, and jumped over the last ridge. My boots hit the clear ground. Alive. I was alive somehow. The thorns didn’t penetrate through the shoe.

I dropped Bear to the ground and spun around.

The awful chittering sound filled the tunnel behind us. I flexed and saw a dark outline of four-foot-long chitinous legs.

“Run!” I turned and sprinted down the tunnel. The dog dashed ahead, pulling me forward with the leash.

It wouldn’t get through the Grasping Hand. Surely, it wouldn’t.

I glanced back, flexing. A massive insectoid thing tore out of the tunnel. It sampled the red field and plowed right into it. Shit!

I flew across the cave floor, drawing even with Bear. No turnoffs, no branching hallways, just a death trap with the thing behind us charging full speed ahead.

The tunnel veered right, curving. We took the curve at breakneck speed. I slid, caught myself, and dashed forward. Ahead the mouth of a tunnel opened to something lighter, glowing with eerie purple. We raced to it. A moment and we sprinted into the open.

I flexed. Time stretched as my enhanced vision thrust the feedback at me.

A huge cave lay in front of us, its jagged walls rising high up. You could fit a ten-story office tower into this chamber. Natural stone bridges crossed high above, a waterfall spilled from a fissure in the wall far in the distance, and straight ahead, in a front of us, a small lake lay placid, its color a deep blue. Short shrubs grew along the shore, about a foot high, with leaves the color of purple oxalis, dotted with glowing mauve flowers.

Two stalker corpses lay in the flowers, torn apart, and in the lake itself, a large shape waited, hidden in the water. It flared with bright orange. Danger. Chances of survival: nil.

The world restarted with my next breath. I pulled Bear to the left, where a chunk of the wall protruded in a miniature plateau. We couldn’t crawl onto it, but there were boulders around it. It was the only cover we had. Anything else would bring us too close to the lake. 

We dashed through the flowers. My heart was beating a thousand beats per minute.

A screech erupted from the tunnel.

We reached the ledge, and I ducked behind a large boulder and pulled Bear close. She squatted by me, and I hugged her, my hand on her muzzle, and whispered, “Quiet.”

The shepherd stared at me with big brown eyes.

A monster burst out of the passageway. Its front end resembled a silverfish that had somehow grown to the size of an SUV, with razor-sharp terrifying mandibles. Its tail was scorpion like, curving over its head, and armed with another set of flat pinchers, studded with sharp protrusions.

The monster paused. Its tail blades sliced the air like two huge shears.

I held my breath.

The creature skittered forward, straight for the stalker corpses on the shore.

The thing in the lake waited, still and silent.

The bug monster reached the closest stalker corpse. The mandibles sliced like two sets of shears, cutting the body into chunks, dissecting it. The first shreds of flesh made it into the creature’s mouth.

The thing in the lake struck. A blur erupted out of the water, lunging onto the shore. Somehow the bug monster dodged and skittered back. The lake owner paused, one massive paw on the torn-up corpse. It was huge, ten feet tall, as long as a school bus, and it stood on four sturdy legs armed with eighteen-inch claws. Its body was a mix of dinosaur and amphibian, dark violet, with scales that shimmered with indigo and pink as it moved. A massive fin-like crest crowned its head and flared along its spine all the way to the tip of a long thick tail. Its head with four small deep-set eyes and a wide, triangular mouth filled with razor sharp teeth was straight dragon. There was nothing else to compare it to. It was a lake dragon, and it had sighted an intruder in its domain.

The bug monster skittered backward, then sideways, its tail raised high, ready to strike.

The dragon’s flesh rippled. Pale pink spots appeared on its sides, near its crest, glowing softly. Was it a warning or was it trying to mesmerize the bug?

The monster silverfish veered left, then right, but did not retreat. Bugs weren’t known for their strategic thinking. There was meat on the shore, and the bug wanted it.

The silverfish lunged forward, the tail striking like a hammer. The dragon spun and swatted at it with its tail. The silverfish dodged and charged in.

I grabbed Bear’s leash, leaving her six inches of lead, and moved carefully away, past the boulders, along the ledge, toward the back of the cavern. Bear made no noise. She didn’t bark, she didn’t growl, she just snuck away with me.

Behind us, the bug monster screeched. A deep eerie hiss answered, almost a roar.

I picked my way along the wall, through jagged boulders. On our left, the walls were smooth and almost sheer.  On our right, the river that flowed from the waterfall rushed to the lake. 

I flexed again. The water was twenty-two feet wide and seven feet deep. Too deep to easily cross, and the other shore sloped up, littered with large rocks. A chunk of cave ceiling or one of those stone bridges above must’ve collapsed and broken into big chunks. Too hard to climb.

I kept scanning. There had to be a way out of this deathtrap.

My vision snagged on something ahead, where the wall curved left. A dark gap split the rock face, twelve feet high and fourteen feet wide. I focused on it. 

No dice. The gap was fifty-three yards away, and my talent told me that there was nothing valuable in the rock wall around it, but I couldn’t tell how deep it was or if it even led somewhere.  My ability was always tied to my vision. I could sense things buried within rock, but I still had to look at the rock while doing it. If I closed my eyes, I got nothing, and that fissure was just a dark hole. Once I entered the gap, I could scan it but until then, it was a mystery.

There could be other passages on the other side of the cavern, but I didn’t want to risk it. There could be nothing there.

The boulders ended. The ground here was almost clear and sheathed in the mauve flowers. We’d have to leave cover to get to the gap.

I glanced over my shoulder. The bug monster had circled the lake. It was on our side now, still facing the dragon, but two of its left legs were missing and a long gouge carved across its chitin carapace. It wasn’t darting quite as quickly. The huge lake monster kept advancing, its crest rigid, the spots on its sides almost blinding. A wound split its right shoulder, bright with magenta blood.

We had to risk it.

I tugged Bear’s leash, and we padded into the open, heading for the gap. My enhanced vision snagged on the flowers.  Poisonous when eaten. Everything in this fucking breach was trying to kill us.

Something thudded. I risked a glance. The bug had crashed into the wall, falling on its side, and the dragon bore down on it, mouth gaping. At the last moment, the silverfish flipped and dashed away, heading straight for us.

I ran. We flew across the cave, scrambling over rocks. The air in my lungs turned to fire.

The bug was right behind me. I felt it there. I didn’t need to flex, I knew exactly where it was.

The gap loomed in front of us.

Bear and I scrambled into the darkness. For a moment I was running blind, and then my night vision kicked in. Ahead, the passage narrowed down to four feet wide.

Yes! The narrower the better.

An awful scraping noise came from behind us, the sound of bug legs digging into the rocks.

Beyond the narrow point lay darkness. It was too deep and too dark.

We dashed through the narrowed gap, and I slid to a halt, yanking Bear back. We stood on a seven-foot ledge. Past it the ground disappeared. There was no way down. There was just a gulf of empty dark nothing.

We were trapped.

The wall behind us shook.

I spun around.

The bug rammed the stone, trying to get its tail through, but the gap was too narrow.  It screeched and struck the rock again. The mandibles shot toward me through the gap, slicing.

I jerked my right arm up on pure instinct. The cuff around my wrist flowed into my fingers and snapped into a long sharp spike, and I drove it into the bug’s head. The blade sliced through the right mandible and bit into the armored carapace. The mandible hung limp. I yanked the blade free and stabbed again, and again, and again, thrusting and cutting in a panic-fueled frenzy. To my right, Bear launched forward, exploding into snarls, bit the mandible I had partially severed, and ripped it free.

The bug screeched. Puss-colored ichor wet its head. It tried to back up, but its head was wedged into the gap.

I kept stabbing. Bear lunged back in, foam flying from her mouth, latched onto another mandible, and hung on, fur standing straight up.

Stab, stab, stab…

The bug collapsed. I drove the sword into it seven more times before my brain finally processed what I was seeing. The giant silverfish was dead. It wasn’t even twitching.

I heaved, trying to catch my breath. We killed it. Somehow we killed it.

Bear snarled next to me, biting a chunk of the bug she had torn off. All of her fur stood on end.

“Good girl,” I breathed. “Finally snapped, huh?”

Bear growled and bit down.  Chitin crunched.

The bug shuddered.

I jerked my sword up.

The silverfish slid backward, into the gloom of the dark passageway, and behind it, I saw the outline of a massive paw and pale glowing spots.

I dropped into a crouch and hugged Bear to me in case she decided to follow. The silverfish vanished, swallowed by the darkness.  The pale pink spots winked out.

The post The Inheritance: Chapter 4 Part 2 first appeared on ILONA ANDREWS.

All Fours is an irreverently sexy, tender, hilarious and surprising novel about a woman upending…

The post Spotlight on Irreverent “All Fours” by Miranda July appeared first on LitStack.

All right, Sprawl Off in 3.2.1…

What am sprawls?

I don’t always, sprawl, but when I do, I like to be an island.

Dat sounds like a lot of work, but…sure, I guess?

I am the QUEEN of sprawl! OWNED!

 

 

 

Wow. It’s been over half a year since I did a What I’ve Been Watching. I’ve already forgotten some of the stuff I watched since then! But let’s tackle a few more recent favorites. And what I’m re-watching, as usual.

COUNTY LINE

From 2017 through 2022, there were three TV movies (is that still ‘a thing’) in this series. I did not recognize the main actor away. He reminded me of Dan Dierdorf, but I had to look him up on IMDB. It was good ol’ Tom (Luke Duke) Wopat!

He’s Alden Rockwell, a sheriff/former sheriff in some Georgia country town. The city is split down the middle between two counties. So, you’ve got Alden, and the sheriff of the other county, involved in the same case. In the first one, Alden’s best friend (and sheriff) is shot, so he tries to solve the crime – and there’s a bigger thing going.

There are plenty of familiar faces, which I enjoy. Patricia Richardson (Tim Allen’s wife on Home Improvement) owns the diner that is a common hangout. It’s on both sides of the county line. So Alden sits on one side of a table in a dry county. His buddy sits on the other side, where alcohol is legal. So, his buddy orders the beer and puts it on Alden’s side. It’s silly but works.

Jeff Fahey (Bodie’s grandfather on Fire Country) is a sheriff. Grant Goodeve (David on Eight is Enough) is in the second movie. Casper Van Dien (Starship Troopers) appears in the third one. I like seeing the faces from the past.

There’s that ‘Aw hell’ country cop resignation and humor, but it’s not a comedy. It’s a bit of a buddy cop movie, but not really.

Wopat is clearly the show’s center, and he’s good in the part. Looking older and rather beefy, he’s stubbornly likable.

I liked all three. The last two were both done in 2022, and it looks like the series is done. But it’s a fun little watch on Prime.

THE BONDSMAN

‘Resurrected bounty hunter Hub Halloran gets an unexpected second chance at life, love and his nearly forgotten musical career – only to find that his old job now has a demonic new twist.’

That’s a pretty good summary, from IMDB. Near the beginning of the opener, which is an Amazon original series, Kevin Bacon is killed while on a bounty hunting job. But he immediately comes back to life. He’s now hunting down demons, for Satan.

It’s not a comedy, but it’s got a lot of funny. The redneck setting makes it more fun, as well. Beth Grant is hilarious as his mom. She’s cut from the same vein as Ruth Gordon, Clint Eastwood’s mom in Every Which Way But Loose, and the sequel. She’s feisty, funny, and tough, as a former partner in the business.

The story line has high stakes, both on earth and for the afterlife. And the cliffhanger ending of episode eight absolutely sets up season two. I think Kevin Bacon – looking like life rode him hard and hung him up, is excellent in the lead.

The gore factor occasionally approaches my limit, but not too often. I don’t do horror, but I really enjoyed this, and look forward to season two. Highly recommended.

BOSCH: LEGACY

Michael Connelly’s Bosch books are huge sellers. The Amazon original series Bosch (which I wrote about here) covered 68 episodes over 7 seasons, from 2014-2021. Titus Welliver previously had over 100 credits, but Harry Bosch made him a star. And he’s perfect in the role. Strong cast, intense season-long story lines, and quality production values, Bosch should be looked at as a terrific adaptation of a best-selling book series.

It was already announced that there would be a sequel series, Bosch: Legacy. With many of the same actors returning in their roles, Bosch has transitioned from being a cop, to a private investigator. He wasn’t exactly totally committed to the rules as an LA. homicide detective, but he’s got a lot more ‘flexibility’ as a PI.

I really liked the original show. I liked the first two seasons of the sequel well-enough. I wasn’t as invested in it. However, season three was its strongest, and I think the series finished strongly, as it’s time for a spin-off.

Renee Ballard, played by Maggie Q, was an LAPD detective in the final episode of Legacy. She is the star of Ballard, which is to start airing later this year. Welliver will reprise his role in one episode. I thought her character was okay, and I’ll watch it to stay in the Bosch-verse.

One thing I really liked is that final season – and final episode – delivered on ‘Everybody matters, or no one matters.’ That little maguffin was dropped in the first season of the original Bosch, and mentioned more than once after in both series. And they paid it off. I appreciated that.

Season one of Bosch was almost too dark for me, but I continued on, and I have enjoyed my Bosch adventure. I would absolutely watch the original series: Legacy would be much less impactful if you watched it first. I’d even venture to say, it really wouldn’t work that great.

Side note – Welliver narrated the first several audiobooks for Robert B. Parker’s (Spenser for Hire) Cole and Hitch Westerns. Ed Harris made and starred in a very good version of the first one, Appaloosa, which I wrote about, here. Welliver is FANTASTIC. It’s a crime that Amazon or somebody has not signed him on to play Virgil Cole in a few movies, or a streaming series based on the books. He would be terrific.

AND….

Next installment, I’m going to cover Daredevil, and Daredevil: Born Again. I talked about Daredevil a bit a few months ago, and I think it’s my favorite Marvel series. And the reboot was very good.

I finally got around to watching The Chosen – from start to current. It’s a SUPERB show that deeply draws on the four gospels. It’s an amazing show and I can’t wait for the new season this Summer. They’re up to the Last Supper.

I am current on season three of Will Trent, which is an excellent cop show, with a little bit of Monk about it (and you know I loved that era of the USA Network). I’m gonna tackle that one as well.

I am in the middle of season three (of four) of my re-watch of Shakespeare and Hathaway: Private Investigators. This is a cute buddy cop/PI show with more of a Hallmark vibe, than something like The Bay (wrote about that here). It’s kind of in the same vein as Murder They Hope, which was originally three TV movies, then became a two mini-season series. Fun, lighthearted British mystery stuff. I re-watched all of that franchise, as well.

And I am almost to the end of season eleven of my Death in Paradise complete re-watch. Season fourteen, with yet another major cast change, finished dropping in March. I’m still working on it, while watching lots of other stuff. It remains one of my favorite shows.

I talked about Shakespeare and Hathaway, and Death in Paradise, in this Britbox-centric post.

I finished the current season of Krapopolis. I like it, but it’s all kinda the same. I don’t binge that one.

Some previous entries on things to watch:

What I’ve Been Watching: May 2025 (What We Do in the Shadows, The Bay, Murder in a Small Town)
What I’m Watching – November 2023 (Brooklyn Nine-Nine, The Caine Mutiny Court Martial, A Haunting in Venice)
What I’m Watching – April 2023 (Florida Man, Picard – season three, The Mandalorian)
The Pale Blue Eye, and The Glass Onion: Knives Out
Tony Hillerman’s Dark Winds
The Rings of Power (Series I wrote on this show – all links at this one post)
What I’m Watching – December 2022 (Frontier, Leverage: Redemption)
What I’m Watching – November 2022 (Tulsa King, Andor, Fire Country, and more)
What I’m Watching – September 2022 (Galavant, Fire Fly, She-Hulk, and more)
What I’m Watching- April 2022 (Outer Range, Halo, Why Didn’t They Ask Evans, and more)
When USA Network was Kicking Major Butt (Monk, Psych, Burn Notice)
You Should be Streaming These Shows (Corba Kai, The Expanse, Bosch, and more)
What I’m BritBoxing – December 2021 (Death in Paradise, Shakespeare & Hathaway, The Blake Mysteries, and more)
To Boldly Go – Star Treking – (Various Star Trek incarnations)
What I’ve Been Watching – August 2021 (Monk, The Tomorrow War, In Plain Sight, and more)
What I’m Watching – June 2021 (Get Shorty, Con Man, Thunder in Paradise, and more)
Tucker and Dale vs. Evil
What I’ve Been Watching – June 2021 (Relic Hunter, Burn Notice, Space Force, and more)
Appaloosa
Psych of the Dead
The Mandalorian
What I’m Watching: 2020 – Part Two (My Name is Bruce, Sword of Sherwood Forest, Isle of Fury, and more)
What I’m Watching 2020: Part One (The Adventures of Brisco County Jr, Poirot, Burn Notice, and more)
Philip Marlowe: Private Eye
Leverage
Nero Wolfe – The Lost Pilot
David Suchet’s ‘Poirot’
Sherlock Holmes (over two dozen TV shows and movies)

Bob Byrne’s ‘A (Black) Gat in the Hand’ made its Black Gate debut in 2018 and has returned every summer since.

His ‘The Public Life of Sherlock Holmes’ column ran every Monday morning at Black Gate from March, 2014 through March, 2017. And he irregularly posts on Rex Stout’s gargantuan detective in ‘Nero Wolfe’s Brownstone.’ He is a member of the Praed Street Irregulars, founded www.SolarPons.com (the only website dedicated to the ‘Sherlock Holmes of Praed Street’).

He organized Black Gate’s award-nominated ‘Discovering Robert E. Howard’ series, as well as the award-winning ‘Hither Came Conan’ series. Which is now part of THE Definitive guide to Conan. He also organized 2023’s ‘Talking Tolkien.’

He has contributed stories to The MX Book of New Sherlock Holmes Stories — Parts III, IV, V, VI, XXI, and XXXIII.

He has written introductions for Steeger Books, and appeared in several magazines, including Black Mask, Sherlock Holmes Mystery Magazine, The Strand Magazine, and Sherlock Magazine.

You can definitely ‘experience the Bobness’ at Jason Waltz’s ’24? in 42′ podcast.

13 years earlier Noelle Marshall survived the brutal attack that killed her husband. As a high profile and well connected politician his murder was investigated by the FBI but because Noelle only had patchy memories of the attack the investigation went nowhere. 

After the death, one of the investigating agents encouraged Noelle to pursue a career in law enforcement and following that path led her to becoming a detective with the Oregon State Police. 

But after 13 years the FBI are taking another look at the murder of her husband to see if anything shakes loose. 

And something has. Noelle has said or done something that has made the killer start to suspect her memories are returning but she has no idea what that is. Now with the help of the two FBI Agents she must dig up the truth of her husbands murder before the murderer silences her forever. 

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Noelle Marshall has been floating in the background of Kendra Elliot’s Columbia River series for a few books now. She has become a fan favorite and finally she is getting her own series. And she doesn’t disappoint. Her First Mistake is much more cerebral than previous books but it is tight, gripping and an edge of your seat thrill ride.

A wild light came into Frodo’s eyes. ‘Stand away! Don’t touch me!’ he cried. ‘It is mine, I say. Be off!’ His hand strayed to his sword-hilt. But then quickly his voice changed. ‘No, no, Sam,’ he said sadly. ‘But you must understand. It is my burden, and no one else can bear it. It is too late now, Sam dear. You can’t help me in that way again. I am almost in its power now. I could not give it up, and if you tried to take it I should go mad.’

Frodo to Sam in Mount Doom from The Return of the King

And so we come to the end of the first part of my return to JRR Tolkien’s work. For those not following along with my earlier essays (links at the bottom), inspired by a hate watch of Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings movies, I picked up The Fellowship of the Ring and quickly succumbed to a complete reread of the trilogy. As I set out to write an article about Fellowship, I instead, found myself realizing I’ve been reading the professor’s books for fifty years and how much they’d meant to me.

Last time, I wrote that when I was young, I tended to struggle through bits of The Two Towers. That was never the case with The Return of the King, something that I found to remain so on this reading. It’s got wilder and bigger battles than the previous book, incredible scenes (including one of the greatest in all three books and that Jackson insanely cut omitted from the theatrical release!), and Frodo’s and Sam’s journey becomes more desperate and its evocation of Christ-like self-sacrifice more potent. The penultimate chapter, The Scouring of the Shire, portrays the transformation wrought on the four hobbits by their undertakings. Finally, the book ends with one of my favorite closing lines of any book.

As usual, here’s let me give a brief synopsis for those who’ve yet to read The Lord of the Rings. The first half of the book, The War of the Ring, contains three narratives. Gandalf and Pippin set off for Minas Tirith while Merry rides with the Rohirrim, again, for Minas Tirith, but by a different route. Meanwhile, Legolas and Gimli follow Aragorn along the Paths of the Dead in search of supernatural allies.

Everyone comes together at Minas Tirith at various stages in the great siege of the city and the ensuant battle outside its wall. When Mordor’s forces are broken and scattered, under Aragorn’s command, an army is sent north to the Gates of Mordor with hopes of distracting Sauron’s unblinking eye from Frodo and Sam.

Homeward Bound by Alan Lee

The End of the Third Age, the book’s second half, can be broken into several parts; the final leg of Frodo’s and Sam’s march to Mount Doom, the reunion of the surviving members of the Fellowship and Aragorn’s coronation, the scouring of the Shire, and a final farewell to Middle-earth. As with The Two Towers, this part of the trilogy evokes Tolkien’s wartime service, if not as in a direct way. On the one hand, both Merry and Pippin are transformed into hobbits of action and steel. There is nothing left that scares them. On the other, Frodo, never fully recovered from his wound on Weathertop, has been left drained and tired in the deepest parts of his soul by bearing the One Ring for so long, straight into the Enemy’s domain.

Each time around with LotR, I find myself noticing something new or being drawn with greater interest to a different part than previously. This time it was The Scouring of the Shire. I think, partially, it’s the better understanding that the fight against evil is never ending, and just as likely to happen in your own town as on some distant fields. More significantly, it was Frodo’s place in it. I remembered him as instrumental in the routing of Sharkey’s forces, but that is not the case at all.

When Frodo and Sam decide to lighten their load and ditch the orc gear weighing them down, Frodo makes an emphatic statement that “I’ll bear no weapon, fair or foul.” When it becomes clear that there are hobbits working for Sharkey and his ruffians, he issues an order:

“‘Fight?’ said Frodo. ‘Well, I suppose it may come to that. But remember: there is to be no slaying of hobbits, not even if they have gone over to the other side. Really gone over, I mean; not just obeying ruffians’ orders because they are frightened. No hobbit has ever killed another on purpose in the Shire, and it is not to begin now. And nobody is to be killed at all, if it can be helped. Keep your tempers and hold your hands to the last possible moment!’”

Pippin and Merry are ready to fight and do so when the time comes. Merry himself kills the leader of the ruffians. Frodo, though, doesn’t draw his sword and remains out of the battle. When it’s over, he steps in “to prevent the hobbits in their wrath at their losses, from slaying those of their enemies who threw down their weapons.”

Merry and Pippin prove themselves the highborn leaders they were always destined to be in the battle against the ruffians. It’s Frodo, though, after having suffered mightily and seen his share of death and destruction, who will have no more of it. I simply didn’t remember this aspect of Frodo. When we read that even the normally mild-mannered citizens of the Shire are pressing to kill their prisoners, it’s clear how different from them Frodo has become.

I understand Jackson omitting the scouring from his films. He’s had his big beat climax and the last chapter, wherein Frodo and several others exit the stage for good works well enough for a movie. What we lose, though, is the impact of learning that even the innocents of the Shire have been damaged by the war, and that even they can be driven to killing and murderous rage. In a land where presumably there’s never a murder, they suddenly have nearly a hundred corpses on their hands.

We also miss out that the once mighty Saruman, now reduced to a pitiful state, has become petty and spiteful. When finally confronted by the hobbits he revels in what he’s done to the Shire.

I have already done much that you will find it hard to mend or undo in your lives. And it will be pleasant to think of that and set it against my injuries.’

Despite many hobbits calling out to kill Saruman, Frodo only dismisses him with a sense of pity, largely for the noble being he once was. He even offers temporary sanctuary to Grima and the chance to escape his master’s control. From the beginning, Frodo is portrayed as a good person, but surviving the burden of the Ring seems to have turned into an outright noble one, something I don’t think I’ve tracked as closely before.

In the last few years, especially, it seemed, after the movies came out, there was a lot of talk that Sam Gamgee was the real hero of LotR. After this read, I think I’ve come around to that. Frodo sets out to take the Ring to Mount Doom, always with a sense of fatalism. His ownership of the Ring makes him feel obligated to take it to the end and he never has any doubts about what needs to be done.

Sam, however, chooses to go out of loyalty to Frodo, not for any sense of obligation to destroy the Ring. That does come upon him later when he thinks Frodo dead. He is the one tempted along the way, first by the visions in the Mirror of Galadriel and later by the Ring itself. He hesitates for a moment each time, but doesn’t falter. In fact, he is the only person we ever read of in the books or the appendices who gives up the Ring willingly. In a scene Jackson left out, Sam is tested and proved strong.

Samwise the Strong from Rankin and Bass

His thought turned to the Ring, but there was no comfort there, only dread and danger. No sooner had he come in sight of Mount Doom, burning far away, than he was aware of a change in his burden. As it drew near the great furnaces where, in the deeps of time, it had been shaped and forged, the Ring’s power grew, and it became more fell, untameable save by some mighty will. As Sam stood there, even though the Ring was not on him but hanging by its chain about his neck, he felt himself enlarged, as if he were robed in a huge distorted shadow of himself, a vast and ominous threat halted upon the walls of Mordor. He felt that he had from now on only two choices: to forbear the Ring, though it would torment him; or to claim it, and challenge the Power that sat in its dark hold beyond the valley of shadows. Already the Ring tempted him, gnawing at his will and reason. Wild fantasies arose in his mind; and he saw Samwise the Strong, Hero of the Age, striding with a flaming sword across the darkened land, and armies flocking to his call as he marched to the overthrow of Barad-dûr. And then all the clouds rolled away, and the white sun shone, and at his command the vale of Gorgoroth became a garden of flowers and trees and brought forth fruit. He had only to put on the Ring and claim it for his own, and all this could be.

In that hour of trial it was the love of his master that helped most to hold him firm; but also deep down in him lived still unconquered his plain hobbit-sense: he knew in the core of his heart that he was not large enough to bear such a burden, even if such visions were not a mere cheat to betray him. The one small garden of a free gardener was all his need and due, not a garden swollen to a realm; his own hands to use, not the hands of others to command.

Sam is the reason Frodo succeeds in reaching the furnace at Mount Doom. He rescues him from Cirith Ungol and later he carries him up the slopes of the volcano. He also matures along the journey. Several times in The Two Towers he is set to kill Smeagol. When given the chance to kill him again in this book, Sam finds himself unable to. Even though his time with the Ring was short, it has taught him much.

Mount Doom by John Howe

‘Now!’ said Sam. ‘At last I can deal with you!’ He leaped forward with drawn blade ready for battle. But Gollum did not spring. He fell flat upon the ground and whimpered.

‘Don’t kill us,’ he wept. ‘Don’t hurt us with nassty cruel steel! Let us live, yes, live just a little longer. Lost lost! We’re lost. And when Precious goes we’ll die, yes, die into the dust.’ He clawed up the ashes of the path with his long fleshless fingers. ‘Dusst!’ he hissed.

Sam’s hand wavered. His mind was hot with wrath and the memory of evil. It would be just to slay this treacherous, murderous creature, just and many times deserved; and also it seemed the only safe thing to do. But deep in his heart there was something that restrained him: he could not strike this thing lying in the dust, forlorn, ruinous, utterly wretched. He himself, though only for a little while, had borne the Ring, and now dimly he guessed the agony of Gollum’s shrivelled mind and body, enslaved to that Ring, unable to find peace or relief ever in life again. But Sam had no words to express what he felt.

‘Oh, curse you, you stinking thing!’ he said. ‘Go away! Be off! I don’t trust you, not as far as I could kick you; but be off. Or I shall hurt you, yes, with nasty cruel steel.’

Could Sam have carried the Ring himself to Mount Doom himself, probably not. But Frodo, for all his spiritual resilience, fails in the end. Only with Sam’s help could he have even made it to that point. Tolkien himself referred to Sam as the “chief hero,” so I guess I’ll have to go along with that.

Which leads me to Peter Jackson’s version. Instead of Frodo overwhelming Smeagol and dominating him by the power of the Ring. Which means we miss this:

‘Down, down!’ he gasped, clutching his hand to his breast, so that beneath the cover of his leather shirt he clasped the Ring. ‘Down, you creeping thing, and out of my path! Your time is at an end. You cannot betray me or slay me now.’

Then suddenly, as before under the eaves of the Emyn Muil, Sam saw these two rivals with other vision. A crouching shape, scarcely more than the shadow of a living thing, a creature now wholly ruined and defeated, yet filled with a hideous lust and rage; and before it stood stern, untouchable now by pity, a figure robed in white, but at its breast it held a wheel of fire. Out of the fire there spoke a commanding voice.

‘Begone, and trouble me no more! If you touch me ever again, you shall be cast yourself into the Fire of Doom.’

Instead of Sam refraining from killing him as described above, there’s a short, vicious encounter that ends with Sam cutting Smeagol in the belly. It continues Jackson’s rejection of nuance and complication for action every time.

There are so many problems I have with the movie. Two-trunked titanic oliphaunts that Legolas parkours on, well, they’re bad. Worst of all is the denigration of Denethor. Tolkien’s character is a man of great learning who has been lured into despair by his contact with Sauron. A once noble man has fallen into such hopelessness that he can’t even imagine there’s any chance of survival. Instead, Jackson gives us a snide, snarling man who makes Pippin sing for him while he devours food like an animal, juices dribbling down his face. Again, nuance of character has no place.

One thing that particularly stands out is the elimination of, what’s for me, one of the most iconic moments in The Return of the King. When the great gate of Minas Tirith is broken down, Gandalf confronts the Witch King. That Jackson chose to make up his own scenes and dialogue for the movies but excised this one, well, it’s inexcusable.

Witch King at the Gate by Angus McBride

Thrice he cried. Thrice the great ram boomed. And suddenly upon the last stroke the Gate of Gondor broke. As if stricken by some blasting spell it burst asunder: there was a flash of searing lightning, and the doors tumbled in riven fragments to the ground.

In rode the Lord of the Nazgûl. A great black shape against the fires beyond he loomed up, grown to a vast menace of despair. In rode the Lord of the Nazgûl, under the archway that no enemy ever yet had passed, and all fled before his face.

All save one. There waiting, silent and still in the space before the Gate, sat Gandalf upon Shadowfax: Shadowfax who alone among the free horses of the earth endured the terror, unmoving, steadfast as a graven image in Rath Dínen.

‘You cannot enter here,’ said Gandalf, and the huge shadow halted. ‘Go back to the abyss prepared for you! Go back! Fall into the nothingness that awaits you and your Master. Go!’

The Black Rider flung back his hood, and behold! he had a kingly crown; and yet upon no head visible was it set. The red fires shone between it and the mantled shoulders vast and dark. From a mouth unseen there came a deadly laughter.

‘Old fool!’ he said. ‘Old fool! This is my hour. Do you not know Death when you see it? Die now and curse in vain!’ And with that he lifted high his sword and flames ran down the blade.

Gandalf did not move. And in that very moment, away behind in some courtyard of the City, a cock crowed. Shrill and clear he crowed, recking nothing of wizardry or war, welcoming only the morning that in the sky far above the shadows of death was coming with the dawn.

How do you decide to introduce those ridiculous looking oliphaunts but leave this out? Who the heck knows. To me, it seems like a terrible appreciation for what’s really cool and awesome. That said, the charge of the Rohirrim and the death of the Witch King are pretty solid.

In the beginning, I came to The Lord of the Rings just as the sequels to The Hobbit. Gradually, I understood they had something to say, artistically and thematically. Gradually, the complex architecture of the books and the characters became clearer. This time around, I think the tragic elements have resonated the most — the fallen state of Middle-earth, Boromir’s and his father’s fates, Smeagol’s, too, of course, and, ultimately, Frodo’s. By the last pages, all the magic has flowed out of Middle-earth and its fate is in the hands of men.

I really don’t know how many times I’ve read these books. There was a period where I read them every year or two. Nonetheless, each time I come back to them, it’s almost like I’m reading them for the first time.  I’ve read my share of ridiculously big epic fantasies, but none of them have really earned their length in the way these books have. I can’t say when, but I will be rereading them sooner rather than later.

So, what’s next? I’m not sure. My plans include reading The Hobbit, The Silmarillion, and definitely Bored of the Rings. I might finally crack open my copies of  The Fall of Gondolin and Beren and Luthien, too. I hope you’re willing to follow me along.

Gandalf and the Witch King from Rankin and Bass’ The Return of the King

 

Half a Century of Reading Tolkien: Part One

Half a Century of Reading Tolkien: Part Two – The Fellowship of the Ring by JRR Tolkien

Half a Century of Reading Tolkien: Part Three — The Two Towers by JRR Tolkien

Fletcher Vredenburgh writes a column each first Sunday of the month at Black Gate, mostly about older books he hasn’t read before. He also posts at his own site, Stuff I Like when his muse hits him

I received a review copy from the publisher. This does not affect the contents of my review and all opinions are my own.

The Staircase in the Woods by Chuck Wendig

Mogsy’s Rating: 3.5 of 5 stars

Genre: Horror

Series: Stand Alone

Publisher: Del Rey (April 29, 2025)

Length: 400 pages

Author Information: Website

I rarely miss picking up a new Chuck Wendig book, which is why I really wanted to love The Staircase in the Woods. I guess in some ways, I did—but it also took me way longer to finish than I expected. Despite a strong beginning and end, I found myself bogged down by the middle section which felt repetitive and a bit bloated, slowing down momentum.

Still, there’s no denying this book has one hell of a killer premise! It features a group of teenagers—Owen, Lore, Matty, Hamish, and Nick—who experience a supernatural tragedy one summer, reuniting decades later to confront the truth of what really happened. It all began in high school, when during one of their usual hangouts in the woods, the five friends stumble upon a strange spiral staircase rising out of the ground and leading to nowhere. One fateful night, buzzed on booze and bravado, Matty decides he wants to climb it—and he’ll even do it by himself, if the others are too chicken. Only, upon ascending, he vanishes without a trace. The rest of the group is left traumatized and grief-stricken, blamed by the community for their friend’s disappearance. Shattered by guilt and unanswered questions, they eventually graduate and go their separate ways.

Twenty years later, however, Nick reaches out to the others with dire news and a request: first, he has terminal cancer, and second, he wants to find out what happened to Matty. Reluctant but unable to refuse their dying friend, Lore, Owen, and Hamish agree to meet. They learn that Nick has found the damned staircase again, and this time when he leads them to it, they all make the climb. But the mystery of what befell Matty isn’t going to be solved so easily. In fact, things get weird fast. The friends find themselves inside a house that shouldn’t exist, a surreal place where each room forces them to face their deepest fears and relive their worst memories. They soon realize the house is playing with them, feeding off their pain. And while they have come to find Matty, it’s uncertain now whether any of them will make it out alive.

I’ll start with the positives. The supernatural elements in The Staircase in the Woods are certainly effective when it comes to the chill factor, even more so when I learned from the author’s note that he drew inspiration from real reports of mysterious staircases found in the middle of wooded areas, including one he personally encountered. While many of these sightings turn out to have perfectly rational and mundane explanations—like remnants of old photography and hunting platforms, or abandoned houses where the rest of the structure has fallen around the staircase and long since been reclaimed by nature—the idea still struck me as creepy. After all, the imagery itself is rather unsettling, making it easy to imagine other uncanny possibilities.

Clearly, much of the novel was also driven by tensions between the characters, a result of all their psychological and emotional baggage. As the saying goes, you can run but you can’t hide, and no matter how hard they’ve tried, none of the remaining four friends can move on from what happened to Matty. Even after achieving moderate success as a game designer, Lore remains deeply unhappy and feels victimized by everyone around her (and some of her political rants can be a bit much). Owen is a nervous wreck, and his anxiety has only worsened since his high school days. Hamish, the only one married with children, is nonetheless unsatisfied and self-destructive. And although Nick may act like a clown, the humor is merely a mask that hides the true desperation within him. To be honest, none of them are particularly likeable, but they are complex and feel genuine. I loved reading about their relationships in the past and in the present, and the most rewarding part was seeing how these connections are broken and healed again.

But now for the not-so-great. Like I said, not everything worked for me, particularly the story’s pacing. While it was smooth sailing for most of the first half, soon after, the plot started spinning its wheels. The characters end up splitting up, spending a long time moving through this house of horrors, with each room throwing more and more terrible things at them until these scenes begin to lose all meaning. At some point, it all feels done for the sake of shock value. The scares also blur together and become more of the same old, same old. I definitely struggled to get through this middle section, putting the book down multiple times then finding it hard to motivate myself to pick it back up again.

That said, picking it back up again I did, and I’m glad. Once the holding pattern finally breaks, the plot gets right back down to business, pushing forward rather than lingering in its own sluggish atmosphere. The payoff at the end of the book was well worth the wait, and the story’s resolution tied its themes of friendship, grief, and recovery back to the way things were for the characters before Matty’s disappearance tore them apart. Needless to say, I was happy with the conclusion, which was both satisfying and touching.

Despite my misgivings into its pacing issues, I would still recommend The Staircase in the Woods, especially if you enjoy stories about unexplained mysteries, haunted forests, and reunions between even more haunted friends. Admittedly, this one took a bit of a climb for me, but in the end there was still plenty to like.

Maggots (JO JO New Media, 2017)

50 films that I dug up on Tubi.

Enjoy!

Maggots (2017)

Despite usually taking the piss out of bad movies, I do have respect for filmmakers that actually complete them and get them seen. This brings us to Maggots — a horror/comedy that gets a couple of things right, and a lot wrong, but again I just can’t get mad at it.

The premise is simple; evil corporation dumping toxic sludge after fracking, bugs get mutated, bunch of disposables go camping.

The good stuff: the lead (Lawrence George) is good in his role as a nerdy science student who wants to expose the evil corporation, and the maggots are a lot of fun. They really reminded me of the Deadly Spawn, or naked Crites (from Critters). They are for the most part practical rubber effects, looking like fleshy windsocks with teeth.

The bad stuff: the script is terrible, and the acting goes from soulless mumble to shout. The director obviously thought one of his actors was hilarious, because we are subjected to his garbled nonsense throughout (this is comedy). We are told at the beginning of the film that his character suffers from ‘Sarcastic Tourette’s’ — so I guess I’m supposed to feel bad for disliking his banal schtick.

Anyhoo, we have the nerd, a tough female, a female willing to get her top bollocks out, a jock and a weirdo, along with a randy college professor and a pair of inept forest rangers, so the trope box is thoroughly ticked.

Honestly, I finished this one wanting to enjoy it more, and I can’t help thinking that if it had been played straight, and kept the goofy maggot puppets, this would have been a banger.

Fun fact — I gave it a higher rating than Rebel Moon on Letterboxd.

4/10

Lords of the Deep (Concorde Pictures, April 21, 1989) and Arena (Empire Pictures, March 29, 1989)

Lords of the Deep (1989)

Fancied some cheap-looking rubbish, and luckily Tubi has an extensive Roger Corman collection.

It is the future, and once again we have messed up the planet. Therefore humanity has turned to the depths for somewhere new to screw up, and we hang with the crew of an exploratory vessel as they look for something or other. Lots of blue jumpsuits and sparsely decorated corridors ensue, before it all goes a bit Abyss, and the aliens start doing their thang. The undersea aliens messed up their own world and are here to tell us, in condescending Gort fashion, to stop our shenanigans. The aliens, a cross between a badly-folded fitted sheet and a flip-flop, are actually nice — so why are crew members dying? Could it be something to do with shifty-looking Bradford Dillman? You’ll never guess.

Fun fact: while reading up about this flick, I learned that two-time Oscar winner Janusz Kamiński was the DP, but was fired for being too good. Roger also cameos in this, but then he cameos in everything, bless him.

All in all, a bit pants.

3/10

Arena (1989)

I wanted to chase the previous slice of Corman bunkum with one of his would-be heirs, and Charles Band has always been a reliable option. Empire Entertainment was catnip to weirdos like me in the 80s and yet, to my shame, I never got around to seeing Arena.

Well, I’ve fixed that oversight, and I’m jolly glad I did.

Empire is the company that churned out a ton of cheapo gore fests, normally with an incredibly daft premise, including beloved classics such as Ghoulies, Terrorvision, and Troll — and also produced stone-cold classics such as Trancers, Re-Animator and From Beyond.

Charles must have had decent cash flow going on, because he threw a bunch at this film — the production design is pretty good and the film is chockablock with prosthetics, animatronic beasties and derpy background artists. That said, one fun activity to do while watching is to count the mannequins in the medium crowd shots and the wiggling Q-tips in the wide shots. It’s all good though — clever mattes and inspired shot choices really pull this film together.

The story is about the heroically-named Steve Armstrong, a short-order cook who is handy with his fists. He ends up on the fighting circuit, and has the chance to be the first human in a long time to be champ. It’s all very Rocky, but everyone gives it their all, from Paul Satterfield as Steve, to Claudia Christian as his ‘owner’, Quinn. There’s a fun turn by Armin Shimerman under a couple of pounds of rodent rubber, playing a scummy henchman called Weezil, and Hamilton Camp playing a four-armed Nebulan called Shorty.

It’s all very silly, the actual fights are hilariously great and Richard Band’s music is on point. I had a fun time.

7/10

Zombie Ass: Toilet of the Dead (Nikkatsu, September 24, 2011)
and Mortuary (Film Ventures International, May 7, 1982)

Zombie Ass: Toilet of the Dead (2011)

This is the 25th review in our Tubi Dive, and we celebrate the quarter-century mark with quite possibly the most bonkers, disgusting, and hilarious film so far.

I’ve been a fan of Noboru Iguchi ever since I sat down to watch Machine Girl featuring the mind-blowing special effects of Yoshihiro Nishimura (who went on to direct Tokyo Gore Police), so imagine my delight when I stumbled upon a small collection of his films on Tubi. I’m going to watch them all — and I’ve started with this insanely offensive film.

Traumatized by the death of her sister, karate student Megumi has agreed to go on a camping trip with the usual group of stereotypes. One of her companions, Maki, is a self-absorbed would-be model, and her goal is to find a parasite in a fish, swallow it, and lose weight (not that she needed to). She succeeds, but the resulting tummy rumbles have her rushing to a disgusting outhouse in an abandoned village.

As she pops a squat to clear her bowels, she is attacked from below by a crap-coated zombie and, you guessed it, shenanigans ensue. What follows is some of the most ridiculous, stomach-churning, gory, and childishly fun action scenes you’ll ever see. Iguchi clearly couldn’t give a monkey’s about what anyone thinks of his films, and sets out to have a blast (no doubt satisfying some of his more ‘unsavoury’ tastes) by lacing the film with so many off-the-wall moments, homages to The Evil Dead, unnecessary nudity, hundreds of poop and fart gags, and sexually-charged monster attacks that border on live action anime.

Some shots are poorly done CG, but for the most part the creature and gore effects are practical and messy. I feel like my hyperbole might be getting in the way, but I seriously had such a fun time with this one — and I honestly can’t recommend it to decent folk.

For fans of poop, farts, blood and knickers.

9/10

Mortuary (1982)

Just had time to sneak in another old slasher before I carry on with more Japanese nuttiness, and here’s an old chestnut that tries to elevate the slasher genre with zero success.

Christie believes that her father’s drowning was no accident (it wasn’t), but no one believes her; not her red herring of a mother, nor her chad of a boyfriend. Eventually the truth is revealed, but not before some dull stuff happens. Mortuary has all the trappings of a typical slasher (group of friends, creepy backstory, ‘masked’ killer, unusual weapon) but doesn’t follow through on any of them. A shame really, as it could have been a decent romp. It does get bonus points though for featuring an adorable young Bill Paxton.

For completists only.

4/10

Dead Sushi (Alchemy/Millennium, 2012) and Tomie Unlimited (Toei Company, May 14, 2011)

Dead Sushi (2012)

Next on my Noboru Iguchi-thon is this diamond-encrusted slice of fried gold in video form. As equally bonkers as Zombie Ass, I didn’t enjoy this one quite as much, but don’t let that stop you from taking in this unique form of high culture.

In a nutshell (or seaweed cone), Keiko is the daughter of a famous sushi chef, but when she doesn’t measure up to his standards, she runs away to work as a hostess at a crummy inn. There she becomes embroiled in a surreal revenge story involving chemicals, dodgy sushi and dodgier businessmen.

Imagine for a moment how weird this film could possibly be. You’re dead wrong. It’s much weirder. In fact, one of the less weird moments is a tender scene between a girl and a slice of cooked egg.

Noboru really reminds me of Joe Dante, when Dante is on a live-action Looney Tunes kick (see Gremlins 2 or Twilight Zone), but with much less logic and much more in the way of farting and bosom fetishism.

Utterly stupid, and a whole heap of fun — the opening fight scene alone is worth your time. Watch it, you fools.

7/10

Tomie Unlimited (2011)

The Noboru-thon continues with his take on the classic manga series created by Junji Ito. In the graphic novels (and 9 film adaptations), Tomie is portrayed as a demonic force; sometimes a succubus, other times a vengeful spirit, but always she is the catalyst for much screaming, stabbing and head-scratching.

Noboru Iguchi, being a big fan of rubber puppets, really leans into the body horror and has a whale of a time, even if the film is slightly more serious in tone than Dead Sushi or Toilet of the Dead.

There are some astonishingly weird scenes (almost House weird) on offer, with just a few moments marred by dodgy CG. On the whole though, it’s creepy, disgusting, and sublimely daft. Tomie is played really well by Miu Nakamara — she is all angular cheekbones and lacerating looks, and Moe Arai is perfectly cast as her put-upon younger sister. She’s Phoebe Cates adorable, and it is particularly rough to watch her being hurt both physically and mentally.

Not the best of the Tomie films, but certainly worth a look.

7/10

Previous Murkey Movie surveys from Neil Baker include:

Tubi Dive, Part I
Tubi Dive, Part II
Tubi Dive, Part III
What Possessed You?
Fan of the Cave Bear
There, Wolves
What a Croc
Prehistrionics
Jumping the Shark
Alien Overlords
Biggus Footus
I Like Big Bugs and I Cannot Lie
The Weird, Weird West
Warrior Women Watch-a-thon

Neil Baker’s last article for us was Part III of Tubi Dive. Neil spends his days watching dodgy movies, most of them terrible, in the hope that you might be inspired to watch them too. He is often asked why he doesn’t watch ‘proper’ films, and he honestly doesn’t have a good answer. He is an author, illustrator, teacher, and sculptor of turtle exhibits. (AprilMoonBooks.com).

Camelot fantasy novels have always held a special place in our hearts, representing reading that…

The post Camelot Fantasy Novels | 6 Paths of Hope, Courage, Fairness and Justice appeared first on LitStack.

Thanks for the update but sorry that Book #4 is flowing as well as it might. I’m looking forward to next week’s guide on corporations & also Book 3 of course but still over six months away .

If you’re a regular reader of SFFWorld reviews you should know that we are usually HUGE fans of Joe Abercrombie’s fantasy writing. So, any announcement of a new book set in a new world (for Joe, anyway) makes us sit up and take notice. And this one has been on the cards for a while…

You’ve probably noticed that we really upped our design game at WMG Publishing in the past year. Some of that is due to the new designers we’ve brought on board, but some of it is because Stephanie Writt has a lot of design experience using modern tools like Canva.

In combination with Dean, whose done more book covers than anyone I know, they’re working together to come up with really pretty books.

Every Friday, they do a seminar together called Writer Direct, which helps writers go directly to the readers, through indie publishing and marketing. (It’s open to anyone for a monthly fee.) For the past six months, the writers who attend have asked Dean and Steph to do a workshop on covers.

Once they started brainstorming, they realized they could do workshops on covers and interiors and Kickstarter.

These courses are designed to take a writer who has never designed anything and have them making gorgeous books by the end of the class. I’m their guinea pig. (Dyslexic girl. If they can get me to do it, anyone can do it.)

The nice thing about these, though, is that there are design tricks in the new programs that long-time designers don’t know. So there’s an entire section for people who have been making covers and designing books for years.

The classes won’t start for a few weeks, but we’re offering an early bird sale on these, which is buy two and get the third free. (In other words, save $500.) Or just buy one and save $100 off the price. Find out more information here.

When you follow that link, you’ll see another class from me. I’m doing short classes on techniques that I can teach quickly. After finishing the difficult senses—smell and taste (which I taught together)—those who came to the webinar asked for similar classes on the remaining three senses.

So, I’m going from hardest to easiest. The next one is on touch. It starts right after I finish the in-person Gothic workshop next week.

Finally, Dean and I are finishing up the next installment in The Kris & Dean Show Goes To the Movies. We’re doing Ocean’s 11 (the 2001 version). I’m the one who picked that because I’ve been meaning to examine that film very closely.

Turns out it’s even more useful than I thought it would be. This class will teach you all about how to feed information to a reader so that they don’t notice the important stuff until you want them to. It’ll also show you how to establish characters quickly, and how to handle an extremely complicated storyline with verve and clarity.

We’re having a great time doing this one, and it’ll go live next week.

So take a look and see if there’s a class for you.

2,119 miles away from Elmwood

The right leg hurt, the left arm hurt, everything fucking hurt. There was alien slime dripping from his armor, and it stank like yesterday’s vomit.

The gate loomed in front of him. Elias McFeron stepped through it.

Blue sky. Finally. 

He took a deep breath and tasted home. That first gulp of Earth’s air. There was nothing like it.

Behind him the rest of the assault team staggered out. He’d force-marched them for the last two days, all the way from the anchor chamber. It was a hard pace even for the top Talents, and it took longer than expected because the markers they had placed to guide their way through the swamp had sunk.

The first responders dashed toward him with the stretcher. Elias let them get in position, lifted Damion Bonilla off his shoulders, and carefully deposited him onto the stretcher. The pulsecarver’s blood-smeared face was a mask of pain.

“Thank you, Guildmaster. I’m sorry.”

Elias nodded. “Nothing to be sorry about. Rest. You’ve earned it.”

The first responders carried Bonilla off. His legs were bloody mush below the knees, but he would walk again. The healers would fix him. They fixed anything except dead if you got to them in time.

This was the last time. Elias had promised himself that every time he went into the breach, but this time he meant it. He would strip off the armor, take a long shower in his hotel, board the guild jet with the rest of his team, and go home. He would eat well, sleep in his own bed, and then in the morning he would put on a suit, go into his office, and do paperwork like a normal fucking human being. That’s where he belonged. Running the guild, which had plenty of blade wardens without him.

The medics swarmed the assault team. A young kid with a healer’s white caduceus on his jacket ran up to him. Elias waved him off and squinted at the familiar orderly chaos in front of the gate, looking for the mining crew. He’d sent a scout ahead with the orders to wrap it up. The miners were on the left, stowing their gear. He counted them out of habit. 15 and 8 escorts. Good. Everyone was out.

A familiar tall, lean figure in a black Tom Ford suit tugged at his attention. Leo Martinez, who seemed to be born to wear elegant suits and be the public face of a guild, the only man standing still in the flurry of activity. His XO, who should’ve been back at HQ, 2,000 miles away. Something had happened.

Leo started toward him.

Elias made himself walk forward. Whatever it was, he didn’t want to deal with it but avoiding it would make things worse.

A sharp sound cut through the human clamor, like the noise of a thousand paper sheets being ripped at once magnified through concert level speakers. The gate collapsed.

Leo reached him. “Cutting it a little close, sir.”

“Happens.” Elias headed for the familiar black SUV. The back hatch rose as he approached, and he began stripping his armor and tossing it into the plastic-lined vehicle. “What is it?”

Leo kept his voice low. “We had a fatal event.”

He’d figured that. “Where?”

“Elmwood Gate. The assault team is presumed dead. We lost nine of twelve miners, four of the escorts, a K9 and handler, and a DeBRA.”

Elias stopped for a moment. Twenty-eight people. Good people. He’d approved the line up himself. It was a solid team that should’ve been more than adequate for the deep yellow gate. He’d personally trained them, he’d gone into breaches with them, and now they were dead. Half of them under the age of thirty. He’d sent kids to their deaths again.

This wasn’t a fatal event, this was a catastrophe. What the hell went wrong over there?

Leo’s face was carefully neutral. “The DeBRA is—”

“Adaline Moore.” The best DeBRA in the Eastern US died in their gate dive.

“Yes, sir. I’ve got the mining foreman, the surviving miners, and London under lockdown.”

“London made it out?”

The crisp line of Leo’s jaw got sharper. “Yes, sir.”

“Hm.”

“I’ve reported to the DDC,” Leo continued. “Cora Ward owes me a favor, so she will sit on it for as long as she can, but sooner or later this will get out and when it does, both the Hermetic Alliance and the Guardian Guild will scream bloody murder. The Guardians, in particular, have been vocal about our share of the gates.”

Adaline Moore had been in high demand. DeBRAs of her caliber were rare and monopolized by the DDC. Elias liked to know who he was working with, so he kept tabs on the assessors. Adaline was divorced, with an absentee ex-husband, two children, a cat, and her life revolved around work and family. The very definition of a noncombatant. Her children were now orphans.

Leo was right, the fallout from this would hit them like a hammer, but the political mess and the PR nightmare wasn’t important right now. He would deal with that later. “What does London say happened?”

“Humanoid combatants. Highest red level.”

“What kind of combatants?”

A slight edge slipped into Leo’s voice. “He doesn’t know.”

Perfect.

“His entire crew and the DeBRA are dead, and he doesn’t know. Did he see the DeBRA die?”

“He says he did. The mining foreman backs up his story.”

The foreman made it out, too. “What about the other miners?”

“In shock. They aren’t talking.”

Elias deposited the last bit of gear into the SUV and slapped it shut. The vehicle rocked. The control got away from him a hair.

Leo got behind the wheel, Elias climbed into the passenger seat, and they drove out, past the police barricade and the onlookers onto I-205, heading north, toward the airport, where the guild jet waited.

“From what London described, we will need the primary team,” Leo said. “Kovalenko is on loan to Texas’ Lone Star Guild and Krista is on vacation in the Caribbean. Jackson is in Japan.”

And they would have to wait for Jackson because they would need their best healer.

“Jackson has the longest travel but should make it within 48 hours. The real problem is the tank,” Leo said. “Both Karen and Amir are inside the gates right now, and both went in less than twenty-four hours ago. We can substitute Geneva, but she lacks experience…”

“No need,” Elias said. “I’ll take them in myself. Tell Krista I authorized triple rates. We can swing by Dallas and pick up Kovalenko. We have 28 people in that breach. We must recover the bodies so their families will have something to bury.”

If there was anything to recover. With the kind of delay they were facing, they could get there and find only bones stripped bare. Dead people became meat, and meat didn’t last long in a breach. He would shower and sleep on the plane. The office would have to wait.

“Are we pulling them to HQ or straight to Elmwood?” Leo asked.

“Straight to Elmwood. Nobody goes into that gate until I get there.”

“Understood.”

Elias looked at the city soaking in the dreary rain of the Pacific Northwest outside the window and glanced back at his XO. “Was London injured?”

A hint of bright electric lightning flared in Leo’s eyes, turning them an unnatural silver white. He pronounced words with crisp exactness. “Not a scratch, sir.”

“Hm.”

He had to get to Elmwood. The sooner, the better.

The post The Inheritance: Chapter 4 Part 1 first appeared on ILONA ANDREWS.

Cover for The Star Pit by Tony Roberts
Cover for Tango Charlie and Foxtrot Romeo by David Lee Anderson

Originally published in January 1989, the fourth Tor Double included John Varley’s Tango Charlie and Foxtrot Romeo and Samuel R. Delany’s The Star Pit. Printed in the a tête-bêche format, David Lee Anderson provided the cover by Tango Charlie and Foxtrot Romeo and Tony Roberts was the artist for The Star Pit.

The Star Pit was originally published in Worlds of Tomorrow in February, 1967. It was nominated for the Hugo Award. It lost to Philip José Farmer’s “Riders of the Purple Wage” and Anne McCaffrey’s “Weyr Search,” which tied each other. Coincidentally, McCaffrey and Delany share a birthday.

Vyme, a mechanic at the titular Star Pit, serves as Delany’s narrator. Rather than start with the present day action, however, Vyme opens his narration with memories of his own childhood and his life from several years earlier. Born on the backwater Earth in New York, he talks about his childhood and the ant farm he had as a child, which would eventually break.

He also talks about his life after leaving earth participating in a procreation group, a futuristic group marriage which was meant to make child rearing easier for both parents and children. Mostly talking about his kid-boy Antoni, who had an ecologarium, a sort of ant farm on a larger scale, it is clear that at best, Vyme is an absentee father, using the structure of the procreation group to allow himself to travel off world to take jobs as a mechanic and nursing his alcoholism, which eventually leads to him abandoning his group marriage.

Eventually, Vyme sobers up, but not before he can no longer return to his group family. Instead, he is on a Star Pit, a way station in space which is used to dock and repair spaceships. He is aided in this by Sandy and a young prodigy, Ratlit, who at thirteen has written a novel despite being functionally illiterate. Ratlit also helps out Alegra, a drug-addicted girl two years older than he is.

Vyme, Ratlit, Sandy, and Alegra are living their lives on the Star Pit in a world which has significant space travel, but in order for it to happen, people need to be identified as “the golden,” individuals who can pilot starships and are the only ones who can travel beyond the galactic plane without going insane, although their sanity is in question in any event.

According the Vyme, the golden are stupid and mean and the details of his interactions with them certainly bear that out, as well as a certain pettiness and a parallel society which normal humans can only watch and not fully understand. When one golden kills another in Vyme’s shop, Vyme and Sandy take it in stride. The surviving golden claims ownership of the dead golden’s ship and, not wanting it, hands it over to Sandy.

The plot of The Star Pit, such as it is, is secondary to the characters and their relationships with each other. Despite Vyme’s paternal tendencies toward Ratlit and his mentoring of Sandy, or Ratlit taking care of Alegra and making sure she is being treated for her illnesses, none of the characters seem to particularly like each other. They have been thrown together by circumstances and deal with each other as best that can.

While Vyme presents his background at the beginning of the novella, the other characters’ stories are only slowly revealed, and, while Vyme is not necessarily an unreliable narrator, the explanation for Sandy, Ratlit, Alegra, and, eventually the young golden Androcles, are all viewed through Vyme’s point of view. When Androcles show sup looking for a job, it is clear that Vyme sees him, at least in part, as a surrogate for his own long lost son, Antoni.

There is a certain disjointedness to The Star Pit, perhaps representing the fact that Vyme is not entirely comfortable with his own position and the difficult relationships he has with Sandy and Ratlit, one of whom appears to represent his own failures and the other of whom represents the possibilities a young Vyme drank away and squandered.

The Star Pit postulates a galaxy in which humans have spread, but its tight focus makes the galaxy feel like a very small place. While the golden have the ability to travel, most humans are limited as to where they can go, which is a response and reaction to all the stories of galactic empires and humanity expanding throughout the galaxy and universe.

Rich Horton discussed The Star Pit in the essay “An Evocation of the Science Fiction Dream of Exploration: ‘The Star Pit’ by Samuel R. Delany” in Black Gate in December 2020.

Worlds of Tomorrow 2/67 cover by Gray Morrow
Blue Champaign cover by Todd Cameron Hamilton

Tango Charlie and Foxtrot Romeo was originally published in the John Varley collection Blue Champagne by Dark Harvest Press in January, 1986. It won the Seiun Award in 1992.

Tango Charlie and Foxtrot Romeo was originally published in the John Varley collection Blue Champagne by Dark Harvest Press in January, 1986. It won the Seiun Award in 1992.

Like The Star Pit, Tango Charlie and Foxtrot Romeo takes place on an outpost, although it isn’t as distant as the one in Delany’s story. Instead, Varley’s focus is on a space station in orbit around Earth’s moon and the story opens with the remains of a dead dog being expelled through the station’s airlock, which is noted by a satellite which in stationed to track anything that comes out of the space station.

It turns out that the space station had been struck by a virus, Neuro X, thirty years earlier and quarantined. The expulsion of the dog is the first indication the Lunarians have that there is anything still alive on the space station. Varley story follows Anna-Louise Bach, a recruit/apprentice at the New Dresden Police Department on the moon and Charlie, a young girl who is living alone on the space station in the company of dozens of dogs.

The first half of the story deals with an assessment of the situation, Bach trying to figure out how to make contact with whoever might still be living on the space station and Charlie living her life surrounded by dogs and the station’s computer Tik-Tok, and becoming aware that someone is trying to contact her from the outside world. Eventually, contact is made and a resolution to the situation must be found. That resolution is made more difficult by information that Varley slowly reveals.

In the space of the novella, Varley creates three different societies to various degrees. The most obvious ones are the simple society that surrounds Charlie on the space station, with her interactions with the dogs, the chores that she must do, and the way she comes to terms with growing up. The second is the Lunarian society, which is clearly separate from that of Earth, beginning with fashion, but continuing to attitudes. Finally, Terrestrial culture is represented by Bach’s acquaintance Megan Galloway. Galloway is a celebrity on Earth who has a history that involves Bach. They don’t like each other, but find the can use each other to achieve their ends.

The nature of the story, following Charlie and her dogs and switching to follow Bach, means that Varley is essentially writing two intertwined stories. Charlie’s story is one of someone living on an abandoned space station, content and understanding of her world, until outside forces intrude and try to force their way of thinking on her. In many ways, Charlie is an alien race that the humans of Luna are attempting to colonize, although they wouldn’t see it that way.

The humans on Luna see themselves trying to understand the fate of a failed human colony on the Tango Charlie space station. The know that the disease that eradicated the station’s population could cause a deadly pandemic on the moon or Earth if it were released. At the same time, they have discovered that Charlie (and the dogs) have somehow managed to survive it and could offer hope for humanity if they could be studied. Unfortunately, the security system in place to make sure no contaminants escape the space station make it difficult to explore those possibilities.

As the novella progresses, Varley hints that something about Charlie may provide clues to either immortality or the impeding of aging. He also offers information about the nature of the Neuro X virus and the future of Tango Charlie, the space station upon which Charlie is resident. Some of the ideas Varley offers up in the story are seen to fruition while others are abandoned, leaving the story feeling a little unresolved, even as Varley does offer a resolution to most of his plot points. This also means that Tango Charlie and Foxtrot Romeo feels like it is part of a larger world.

Steven H Silver is a twenty-time Hugo Award nominee and was the publisher of the Hugo-nominated fanzine Argentus as well as the editor and publisher of ISFiC Press for eight years. He has also edited books for DAW, NESFA Press, and ZNB. His most recent anthology is Alternate Peace and his novel After Hastings was published in 2020. Steven has chaired the first Midwest Construction, Windycon three times, and the SFWA Nebula Conference numerous times. He was programming chair for Chicon 2000 and Vice Chair of Chicon 7.

 

Five Gifts for the Blacksmith's Wifeby Lyonne Riley
What is it about:When her village faces a winter of starvation, Sita draws the shortest straw. Now she’s to be given to the orcs across the river in exchange for food and supplies so her family can survive. Given the chance to choose her own husband from among the eligible orc bachelors, she selects Gurrek, the reluctant blacksmith, who clearly doesn’t want her. He’s the safest option.
Gurrek has always wanted a wife of his own, but not like this. Now he’s saddled with a human woman who needs new shoes, new clothes, and can’t even speak his language. He wants nothing to do with her, and yet her sweet, strong personality draws him in closer with every passing day.
As Sita and Gurrek try to find a place to fit within each other’s lives, attraction begins to bloom between them. But Gurrek refuses to touch a woman who never wanted to be his in the first place. Can Sita break through the blacksmith’s high walls to become his true wife, mind, body, and soul?
This is a sweet, cozy, steamy orc romance that features an arranged marriage, a grumpy/sunshine dynamic, a slow burn, a virgin sexual encounter, and a winter holiday vibe. Please check the content warnings on the author's website.
What did Voodoo Bride think of it:I read a Romance with Orcs that turned out to be Urban Fantasy, and although I really liked it, I wanted to read a Fantasy Romance with Orcs. So I tracked this one down, as I love the grumpy/sunshine trope.
And this turned out to be a nice read.
I really loved Gurrek and rooted for him to get a Happily Ever After. I had a bit more trouble with Sita. At times she felt... too young. I mean: she's adult in years of course, but in her behavior she sometimes felt like a child to me. Maybe it's me and I'm getting old, but because of how she felt to me I had a hard time believing in their romance.
Still, the writing was nice, Gurrek a grumpy sweetheart, and I enjoyed the read.
I might try another one of Riley's books.
Why should you read it:Grumpy Orc! 

Haunted Halloween ’86 from Spirit Halloween

The only thing I like better than blowing a whole day playing video games, is playing retro video games. Of course I love movie-quality HD graphics, but little pixelated Lego-people give me a case of the warm fuzzies. I did some digging and discovered I’m far from alone. The global retro gaming market has experienced significant growth in recent years. For instance, the NES Classic Edition sold 2.3 million units in less than a year, and the SNES Classic Edition surpassed 5 million units globally. The Sega Genesis Mini also exceeded 1 million units sold worldwide in its first year. Additionally, the arcade gaming sector, closely tied to retro gaming, was valued at $19.0 billion in 2023.

But when I think of one of my favorite retailers crossing over into retro-gaming, I most definitely get the fan girl squees.

Spirit Halloween, the annual haunt-headquarters that pops up every fall in the unused strip mall space near you, has just announced Haunted: Halloween ’86 – Spirit Edition, a pixelated plunge into Halloween nostalgia brought to you by Retrotainment Games.

Set in the cursed town of Possum Hollow, Haunted: Halloween ’86 is the lovechild of old-school beat-’em-ups and platforming games. You’ll tag-team as Donny and Tami, two tweens armed with fists, feet, and some serious determination to save their town from ghoulish doom. The Spirit Edition adds an additional storyline that brings the action from 1986 into 2025. Two modern-day characters don costumes at Spirit Halloween and are magically transported to 1986 by none other than Jack the Reaper himself.

Yes indeed, it is as delightfully weird as it sounds.

For $59.99, the Spirit Edition comes with a custom NES cartridge, a retro-style game box, and a user manual (because no one remembers how to work an NES anymore).

Not rocking an NES? No problem. Haunted: Halloween ’86 is also available digitally on the Nintendo Switch, Xbox One, and Steam. These versions deliver the same 8-bit thrills without the struggle of blowing dust out of your console.

Haunted Halloween ’86

Call me naive, but I honestly believe this isn’t just a nostalgic cash grab. Retrotainment Games built Haunted: Halloween ’86 using authentic 6502 Assembly language, sticking to NES hardware specs. The game serves up modern mechanics like combo moves, upgradeable power-ups, and physics-based momentum. Add seven sprawling levels and some gnarly bosses, and you’ve got a treat worth trading all your Halloween candy for. Digital formats are coming this summer, with no specific release date announced as of now. But if you’re after the collectable cartridges those come directly from Spirit at their website and they literally sold out in a couple of hours. Restocks are coming, but no date on that yet either.

Looks like we all really love the retro experience.

Like to read? Like to knit? Like socks? Like fantasy?

Then this is the Kickstarter project for you.

Here, in a nutshell, is what it is:

Socks & Sorcery will have four themed collector’s boxes, each delivered three times over the course of a year. Every box contains:

•  A Surprise fantasy novel in the format of your choice (ebook, paperback or audiobook)
•  100g skein of exclusively dyed fingering weight yarn inspired by something from the book
• A 20g contrasting mini skein perfect for crafting heels and toes
• Delightful surprises to enhance your reading and crafting journey. 

Mix and match any of the four themes—Dragons, Familiars, Witches and Vampires, or Faeries—or get them all for a box delivered each month for a year!

There are lots of great writers contributing books to this project including T. Thorn Coyle, Anthea Sharp, Leslie Claire Walker, and Thomas K. Carpenter. The first book in my Fey series, Sacrifice, is also a part of the project.

This project is a lot of fun, and I’m pleased to take part in it. I hope you join us!

 

Official Author WebsitePre-order Only A Grave Will Do over HEREAdd Only A Grave Will Do on Goodreads
Today we have super thrilled to be part of the cover reveal for the last book of the Malitu trilogy by James Lloyd Dulin, 
Feast your eyes on the gorgeous cover for ONLY A GRAVE WILL DO by artist Martin Mottet, the book released on June 24th 2025 and you can checkout the blurb below:

OFFICIAL BLURB: On the march towards war, blood is both a promise and a gamble.

Newly dubbed the Hero of Anilace, Kaylo is thrust into leading a rebellion against insurmountable odds. His people are dying, if not in labor camps, in occupied cities as everything that makes them Ennean is stripped away. In two generations, the Great Spirits will be legends and Ennea will be yet another conquered territory. People look to Kaylo and the myth growing around him to stem the rising tide.

Sixteen years later, a trivial rebellion, a reclusive nation, and a vast empire march towards a battle to decide the fate of Ennea and her people. The actions of the small folk go unseen. Those who want to serve; those who have given up; those imprisoned; those who will fight at any cost; and those who will protect the people they love with every breath will tip the scales. Ennea is not done fighting.

Isn't it gorgeous?

There will also be a blog tour for the book release and you can check out all the details in the graphic below

What if you could have one last meal with someone you’ve loved, someone you’ve lost?…

The post Spotlight on Gourmet “Aftertaste” by Daria Lavelle appeared first on LitStack.