The Farceur Trilogy

It took me two years to finish this book from start to finish. 

Two. Years.

In contrast, it took me about two weeks to finish (all of) Books 1-3 in George R. R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire series.

That alone should sum up my feelings for A Feast for Crows, but, lest I one day forget why I dislike this book so much and decide to give it another read-through, I'm going to put the issues I had with it into detail here.

For those of you that enjoy the ASoIaF series, like I do (did?), you may remember that A Storm of Swords ended with a bang. 

Naturally, the main thing I wanted to know going into A Feast for Crows is, what's going to happen to Tyrion? And, being the fan-favorite character that he is, I'm sure I wasn't the only one.

So, what does Martin do? Write a book that contains absolutely no Tyrion. Zero. Nada. None. And, beyond that, it's also lacking chapters about other main characters, such as Jon Snow, Daenerys, and Bran. Somehow, Martin couldn't seem to fit these characters into the 1,000+ pages he produced, because he had to make room for a bunch of slog instead.

Essentially, in A Feast for Crows, you follow the stories of:
-Samwell Tarly (zzzzzzz…)
-Cersei Lannister (urge… to kill… rising…)
-Sansa Stark (aka Alayne, aka zzzzzzz...)
-Jaime Lannister
-Brienne of Tarth
-Arya Stark
-A bunch of people from the Iron Islands (zzzzzzz...)
-Some folks from Dorne (okay, I admit, I actually kind of enjoyed these chapters)
-Occasional other random people (zzzzzzz...)

In writing, there's something known as the "Iceberg Theory," in which the author only presents you with a glimpse of the world (s)he has created - this being the 1/8 of the iceberg that's above water - while there's a lot of story and world-building beneath the surface that the author knows, which is omitted from the reader. 

I've come to appreciate the necessity of the Iceberg Theory after reading A Feast for Crows, in which Martin finds it necessary to substitute chapters about characters that we actually care for with chapters about everything else going on in Westeros. There's just so much stuff in this book that we really don't need to see first-hand. For example, are you curious about what's going on in the Iron Islands? No? Well, too bad, because instead of finding out what happened to Tyrion, you'll be getting a lot of krakenny antics shoved down your throat! Fun, right?

In addition to suffering through the entire iceberg of Westeros, you get chapters about total snooze-worthy characters, such as Sam Tarly and Sansa, as well as sooooooo many chapters from the point of view of Cersei. The Cersei chapters alternate between mind-numbingly boring small council discussions, to testing the reader's patience on just how much they can tolerate a loathsome character such as Cersei.

Then, when it came to the characters I actually do like (Arya, Jaime, and kind of Brienne), I honestly didn't find their chapters to be much more compelling. They just seemed so aimless. Really, for a 1,000+ page book, it seems that nothing interesting or significant happens until you get close to the very end.

The only thing that got me through this book was the urge to keep ahead of the HBO show, and encouragement from other ASoIaF fans, telling me that A Dance with Dragons (the next book in the series) gets the series back to its earlier glory. Spoiler alert: 

If you can find a way to avoid this book (you can find out what happens on the HBO show, you can read the chapter summaries in the ASoIaF wiki, you can quit on the series altogether), then great. If you're going to force yourself to read it anyway… well, then, good luck. You're going to need it.

Note: This was a buddy read with the ever-wonderful Me Grimlock King!. She was nice enough to let me choose the book for our BR, and for that reason, I think it was more up my alley than hers (*understatement*). Regardless, thanks for reading with me, Grim!

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I went into my read of The Martian with pretty high expectations. Everyone I know who has read it has had some pretty lofty opinions of it.

As I started it, I could immediately see why. This book, which tells the (fictional) tale of a stranded astronaut on Mars named Mark Watney, sucks you in immediately. I mean, here's how it starts:

I’m pretty much fucked.

That’s my considered opinion.

Fucked.

However, as I was reading The Martian, I started to become a little wary. Yes, Mark's plight and his efforts to survive were interesting, but it started feeling a little one-note. All of the hard science included was cool, but it didn't necessarily help the book with regard to the "riveting" factor. I started to think that this was a book that I would end up being the "odd man out" on, enjoying it to a degree but not understanding why it's so beloved.

Well, after finishing it, I'm happy to say that I was wrong. Turns out, this was a great damn book.

Now, with that said, it's not for everyone. You probably have to enjoy survival stories, and you have to at least be able to tolerate, if not like, hard science. It would also help to have at least some interest in sci-fi, space, astronauts, and that sort of thing.

But, when it comes down to it, I'm pretty sure that I've never wanted a fictional character to live as much as I wanted Mark Watney to live. Following the story to find out whether he ultimately makes it or not is completely nail-biting. It's stressful. I'm not kidding - I had stress dreams about this book (it probably didn't help that I had a fever at the time, but I digress).

Initially, as stated above, I thought the story was going to be one-note, but once it ventures away from the diary-style writing and shows what's happening on Earth, the change of pace is refreshing. I still loved the stuff from Mark's point-of-view of course, but it was nice for that to not be the whole book.

I'm also super impressed by Andy Weir's knowledge of the subject matter, and the research it must have taken to write this book. (Then again, he could have made 95% of it up and I'd be none the wiser, but hey, at least it sounded really impressive!)

As I got about 50% into this book, I couldn't put it down. I needed to know what was going to happen to Mark. The things he did in the story to try to survive were amazing (I'm sure if I were in Mark's position, I would have given up and taken the morphine shots), and I had to find out what it all amounted to.

So yes, great book. Riveting. Compelling. Suspenseful. Go read it.

What can I say, this book just didn't do it for me. Although the ending was pretty exciting, the majority of On Basilisk Station was just too slow-paced and dull for my liking. It took me a while to make myself finish this.

On Basilisk Station is a space opera that follows the command of Honor Harrington on the HMS Fearless in the Royal Manticoran Navy. The HMS Fearless has been exiled to Basilisk Station, a humiliating post which Honor's crew holds against her, despite the assignment being no real fault of her own. Honor must find a way to rally her crew, deal with the situations arising from the only habitable planet in the system, put a stop to the prevalent smuggling going on under the RMN's nose, and figure out what the star-conquering Republic of Haven is up to.

The best thing about this book is Honor Harrington herself. She's a strong, capable, and competent female character, and despite the number of issues she has to deal with, she's not a complainer - she's a problem solver. As great as she is, though, her character isn't enough to carry the book.

I thought that On Basilisk Station had a lot of potential, especially as I was reading the early chapters, but it just seemed to fizzle. For one, there's Weber's luxurious writing style, which seems to go into exquisite detail on every little thing. For example, here's a passage from a battle scene:

The missile belched from Fearless's number two missile tube and sped ahead at an acceleration of 417 KPS2, building on Fearless's own velocity of just over eighteen thousand kilometers per second. It could have accelerated twice as fast, but reducing its acceleration to 42,500 g raised its small impeller's burnout time from one minute to three, which not only gave it three times the maneuvering time but increased its terminal velocity from rest by almost fifty percent.

Is there a more boring way to write about a missile being fired?

Weber also has a tendency to start chapters in the points-of-view of entirely new secondary characters, most of whom hadn't even been mentioned in the book previously, some of whom would never be mentioned in the book again. I always found myself groaning when a chapter would yet again start this way, as I got extremely bored having to suffer through the POVs of these characters.

There were also a lot of shifts in POVs within chapters, and sometimes (in my Kindle ebook version at least), there was no space between paragraphs to denote the change. I found this especially confusing at the end, when the POV was continually shifting between people on different ships. One second we are seeing things through Honor's eyes, while in the next we are seeing them through the eyes of a captain of an entirely different ship, with no visual queues to mark that this was happening.

I also wish there had been a glossary included, or at least an appendix with a who's who of characters. There were so many secondary characters (for example, all the officers on Honor's crew), and it was impossible to remember which character was responsible for what on her ship, so I eventually gave up even trying. Furthermore, the majority of these secondary characters had no personalities or differentiating characteristics, making it even more difficult to tell them apart.

All in all, I think this book had a lot of potential that it didn't quite live up to. After reading On Basilisk Station, I personally have no desire to continue on in the Honor Harrington series.

Emperor Mollusk versus The Sinister Brain is a charming and humorous read. The story centers around Emperor Mollusk, a native of Neptune, who's a supervillain (but not really the overly evil type), mad genius, and the former Warlord of Earth. Now that he's already accomplished world domination, though, he's finding himself somewhat bored and unchallenged in his life. Fortunately (or, unfortunately, depending on how you look at it), an up-and-coming megalomaniac doesn't plan to let Mollusk have an easy, boring retirement.

In its essence, Emperor Mollusk versus The Sinister Brain is smart, clever, and ridiculous, which of course makes for a great combination.

"So you admit it then. Deep down, in your heart-"

"Neptunons don't have hearts. We circulate our blood via a system not unlike osmosis. Even if we had hearts, we'd avoid assigning them any functions outside of a strict biological design. So you are probably trying to appeal to my basal ganglia."

This book is a fun ride, I'll give it that. I particularly loved that nothing seemed "too ludicrous" to be out of reach in this book, and it was never afraid to stretch the limits of ridiculousness.

The main issue here, though, is that it's kind of one-note. That doesn't matter as much when you're enjoying the particular note, as I was, but the result is that the book isn't as memorable as it should have been. Even though it's funny, all of the humor is derived from Mollusk's sarcastic, clever, and/or condescending thoughts and remarks. For most of the story, his unwilling Venusian bodyguard Zala plays "the straight man" character, and even though the dynamic between Mollusk and Zala is humorous, it eventually starts to feel a bit formulaic. This book doesn't have the comedic depth, say, of something like The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. Even the plot seems a bit formulaic, with Mollusk consistently getting himself into and out of perilous jams.

Regardless, deep down in my basal ganglia, I think that this is a fun read that I'd recommend to anyone looking for something light and humorous in the sci-fi genre.

I really struggled with myself over whether to go with 3.5 or 4.0 stars on this one - 3.5 somehow seems to be too few, while 4.0 seems to be too much. I finally settled on 3.5 because I felt that this book, while great, had a few glaring issues, which I think are more accurately reflected by the 3.5 star value.

Ahem. Anyway.

Warbreaker takes place in a city of gods, the city of T'Telir, which is the capital of the kingdom of Hallandren. Siri, who is a princess from the kingdom of Idris, has been sent to Hallandren to wed its God King (Susebron). Despite the marriage, tensions of war are brewing between Hallandren and Idris, as the two kingdoms are like oil and water, with a lot of religious/political/historical factors dividing them. Meanwhile, Vivenna (Siri's sister) goes to Hallandren to try and rescue Siri from her fate.

Now, let's talk about the world-building. Those of you familiar with Sanderson's works will know that the man always shines in world-building, and Warbreaker is no exception. The book features a complex magic system, as well as a fascinating religious structure (both of which are closely intertwined to each other). Politics, religion, history, life in the city, and everything else you could need or want to know were comprehensively detailed throughout the story. By the way, I thought that one of the coolest (and strangest) things about this world was the sentient, talking sword, Nightblood. It makes me insanely happy that the sequel to this book (which we probably won't see for like, 5 years at least, with all the projects Sanderson has lined up) is called Nightblood.

Speaking of, the book sets itself up wonderfully for a sequel, while at the same time tying up most of its loose ends. I always appreciate when an author does this - that is, leaves me wanting more, without making me dependent on it for closure.

The book also had some amazing characters, my absolute favorite being one of the "Returned" gods of T'Telir, Lightsong. [He might take the crown from Kelsier (from the Mistborn series) as being my all-time favorite Sanderson character, but really, it's so hard to choose!] The main reason that Lightsong is so beloved by readers is his witty sense of humor, which Sanderson pens wonderfully.

“I swear, my dear. Sometimes our conversations remind me of a broken sword."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Sharp as hell," Lightsong said, "but lacking a point.”

(Hmmm... sounds kind of like my reviews! Well, at least the "lacking a point" part.)

Lightsong's story arc, though, is also brilliantly done, and was (in my opinion) the only story arc in the book to be handled completely perfectly.

So yes, there were a lot of really spiffy things about Warbreaker, and predominantly it was a great book, but, let's face it - this book also had a lot of issues.

One being, the characters. Wait, what?!? But I just said earlier that the characters were amazing! What I actually said, though, was that there were some amazing characters. At the same time, I thought there were some not-so-great characters. Susebron (the God King), for example - I felt that so much more could have been done with his character, but he was basically a snoozefest. I also found myself PO'd with Siri, who started off with so much potential, but didn't turn into the kickass female character that I wanted her to be. Instead, she seemed much more concerned about her own happiness than about the happiness and wellbeing of her people (*both* of her peoples, actually, since she was both a Queen of Hallandren and a Princess of Idris). I mean, that's only human of course, but there was no "growth" out of this way of thinking or internal agonizing about it - this just bugged me, and I expected more from her.

Furthermore, I felt that Warbreaker had a relatively weak over-arching plot. All the Sanderson books I've read (with the exception of The Well of Ascension, maybe) have had strong, clear plotlines. In Warbreaker, though, it just felt like a bunch of stuff was happening, without there being a clear sense of what the "main story" was.

And, finally, here is my biggest gripe about Warbreaker: I had to read the annotations to understand and/or find out things that I think should have been explained more clearly (or in some cases, explained at all) *in the book* itself. While I absolutely love that Sanderson provides chapter-by-chapter annotations for his books, I don't think that the reader should need to read them in order to grasp everything.

There were also some questions I had that didn't seem to be explained by the book *or* the annotations.

Overall, there just seemed to be a lot of gaping holes in Warbreaker. While this didn't ruin my enjoyment of the story, as I still thoroughly liked it, the holes left me from really, truly, loving it like I do with most of the other Sanderson works that I have read.

(Random Note: Way to pick the blandest cover for this book in existence, Booklikes! Normally that wouldn't bother me, but that cover is like the complete antithesis to the spirit of this book!)

Okay. I wish that this book hadn't pushed all of my big, red, ragey buttons (to be detailed below), because there was a lot of engaging stuff in here. With that said, rage issues aside, I'd still think that these comics are quite a bit overrated. But yes, they're generally commendable, with some excellent commentary on the true nature of mankind.

Let's start with the good, then.

Like many people, prior to watching the show or reading the comics, I had always thought that the term "The Walking Dead" referred to the zombies. Truly, though? It's the survivors of the zombie apocalypse that are "The Walking Dead."



It's hard to imagine how any of us would act if put into a zombie apocalypse-type situation. If we were thrown into that situation, however, we would have to adapt to survive, and The Walking Dead is a story about humanity's adaptation.

The commentary on this is dark, and let's just say, the results aren't pretty. At some point, it even becomes difficult to tell the difference between the zombies and the monsters that some of the survivors have become. But, are humans and zombies really all the different to begin with?

"We can learn so much from them, y'know -- just by watching them. They've been at it all night. They just don't stop -- they're resilient. They eat until it's gone and then they're content.

I almost admire them.

The thing you have to realize is that they're just us -- they're no different. They want what they want, they take what they want, and after they get what they want -- they're only content for the briefest span of time.

Then they want more."

The questions that these comics pose are fascinating. Is this what humanity would become in a zombie apocalypse? Is it necessary to become a monster to survive? Can evil actions be considered evil when they're necessary to survival? And, once you cross that line, where do you stop?

I feel like the comics press these issues even more than the television show. In the show, I feel like Rick (the main character) tries to hold on to his morality, and struggles greatly over the tough, morally questionable decisions that he's forced to make. In the comics, however, I think that Rick is more of a pragmatist, and although he may not be happy with what he's become, he doesn't anguish over it.

Even though the message posed by the comics is compelling and thought-provoking, there are quite a few dull moments throughout the book. The pacing is just very slow, and while that works sometimes to set the eerie survival-horror mood and atmosphere, it's also sometimes just downright boring. It took me ten months to finish this compendium because I was never dying with need to know what was going to happen next.

I also have some issues with the art - mainly, that a lot of the female characters look too similar. I often had a tough time telling who was who, and had to make a point to remember hairstyles since the facial features looked the same.

Finally, let's get ragey.

I just could not, could not stomach the sexism in these comics. The Walking Dead promotes the idea that, in this kind of survival situation, mankind would adopt more "natural" gender roles. The offensive part is the implication that having the menfolk be in charge is "natural." For example, the survivors create a committee of four men who are in charge of making decisions for the group. It's not the fact that the committee is all men that's offensive, but rather, the way that the women's reaction to this is described.

Rick: “No women?”

Dale: “No, that’s how they wanted it.

Patricia said something. She wanted Lori [Rick's wife] on the committee instead of you. Of course, as soon as she realized on one else, including Lori, agreed with her — she shut up.

I don’t know how Michonnne really feels about it. She’s just happy to be here. She went through hell out there a lot longer than any of us. Lori, Carol, Andrea, Maggie — they all said they wanted us in charge. They figure the four of us have pretty much been making the decisions anyway — but making it official would lift some of the burden off you. But yeah. They’re fine with us making the decisions. Truth be told, it’s not just the women, Glenn [an Asian-American male] feels the same way.

I think they just want to be protected.”

If you don't find this to be incredibly offensive while reading it, then there's probably nothing that I can say here to convince you otherwise. My personal preference in the books I read, however, derives enjoyment in having strong female characters.

Now, that's not to say that there are no strong female characters in The Walking Dead - Andrea is the group's best shot, and Michonne is a true badass. But, the overall message regarding gender roles is, quite frankly, bullshit. I found this to be incredibly frustrating, and it definitely soured my overall enjoyment of the comics.

I both adored The Emperor's Soul and was frustrated by this book at the same time.

The story revolves around Shai, who has been captured after forging the Emperor's Moon Scepter. "Forging" in this book isn't forging in the sense that you and I understand it in this world (uh, that is to say, the real world). Instead, it's a magic-based process that involves copying, creating, or changing any item by rewriting its history. (It's a bit hard to explain in a synopsis-like fashion, as it's a bit complex, but it's also really cool.) Shai faces execution for her crimes, but is allowed to live under the condition that she forges a new soul for the Emperor, who is alive after an assassination attempt, but lives in a vegetable-like state.

The Emperor's Soul takes place in the same world as Elantris, although honestly, if I hadn't known that before reading it, I might have never made the connection. There are none of the same characters, and the empire/locations in The Emperor's Soul are different than those found in Elantris (although I remember a very brief mention of Svorden and Jindo). The closest connection is the magical system, because like AonDor and Dakhor in Elantris, the Forging in The Emperor's Soul involves using a writing-based technique in order to evoke some sort of extra-normal event.

Although The Emperor's Soul was absolutely beautiful for what it was, I felt that it could have been on another level entirely had it been fleshed out more. Now, keep in mind that this book is only about 175 pages, so it's a short book. It's amazing what Sanderson was able to accomplish given the length of The Emperor's Soul - the story was (more than) aptly told, and the message was powerfully delivered. But yet, there were just some critical things that I felt were missing.

For instance, the books centers around Shai, and we get to know her well by being privy to her thoughts and feelings throughout the story. We never learn much about her past, however, and this vexed me because I was so, so curious! There is one brief scene in which a tiny bit of her past is revealed, and I found it completely fascinating. It just wasn't enough for me. This is just one example, but there's so much more that I wanted to know that I was never able to learn.

With that said, there are a lot of things that I loved about this book. The highlight, for me, was the development of the relationship (*not* romantic) between Shai and Gaotona. I don't want to go into detail on this for spoilerific reasons, but it was just well done and poignant. The nature of Forging was also really cool, and Sanderson used great literary imagery to bring this magic system to life. Finally, the story had the kind of ending that makes you want to take a moment and stop what you're doing, so that you can soak it up and let it ruminate. I don't know if the book's message was particularly strong - at least, it didn't resonate with me, personally - but it certainly felt strong at the time it was delivered.

This also seemed a bit unique in style to the other Sanderson works I've read (Elantris and the Mistborn series), so it was nice to see Sanderson show some versatility.

All in all, this is a wonderful read, but it fell a little short of perfect due to some missing details and it's lack of overall staying power.