Review: The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien

“In a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit.” J.R.R. Tolkien first scribbled down the opening line of this book on an extra sheet of paper.

And years before “Lord of the Rings” was seen by anyone outside Tolkien’s circle, Middle Earth was first introduced to readers. “The Hobbit” is simpler and less epic than the trilogy that followed it, but Tolkien’s brilliant writing, magical world and pleasantly stodgy hero bring a special life to this early fantasy classic. And with the first “Hobbit” movie coming out in a few months, it deserves revisiting.

Bilbo Baggins lives a pleasantly stodgy and dull life, in a luxurious hobbit hole under a hill (“it was a hobbit hole, and that means comfort”). He’s the picture of dull respectability. But his life is turned upside-down by the arrival of the wizard Gandalf and thirteen dwarves, led by the exiled king-in-waiting Thorin Oakenshield. They want to reclaim the Lonely Mountain (and a lot of treasure) from the dragon Smaug. Why do they want Bilbo? Because Gandalf has told them that he’d make a good burglar, even though Bilbo has never burgled in his life.

So before Bilbo is entirely sure what is going on, he is being swept off on a very unrespectable — and dangerous — adventure. The quirky little band ends up battling goblins and spiders, nearly getting eaten, and imprisoned by Elves, while Bilbo finds himself in possession of a magic Ring from the treacherous Gollum. But even with a magic Ring, can he defeat a monstrous dragon and win a war against multiple enemies?

Tolkien had been crafting his mythos of Elves, Dwarves, Wizards and ancient Men for years before he ever came up with Bilbo’s quest. But it’s fortunately that he did, because while “The Hobbit” is overshadowed by the epic sweep of “Lord of the Rings” and the “Silmarillion,” it’s still an entertaining story that lays the groundwork for his more famous works — especially the magical Ring that Bilbo finds in Gollum’s cavern.

Tolkien’s writing is swift, light and full of songs and poetry-laden descriptions, such as interludes in the shimmering, ethereal Rivendell and the cold, terrible Lonely Mountain. The pace in this is much faster than in most of his other works — not surprising, when you consider it was originally a bedtime story for his children.

Most of the book’s action is about Bilbo trying to keep himself and the dwarves from getting eaten, torn apart, or rotting in elf dungeons, but with some quiet interludes like a night at Beorn’s mountain home. And the last chapters hint at the epic majesty that Tolkien was capable of, as well as the idea that even little people — like a mild-mannered hobbit or a bird — can change the world.

This book also first came up with hobbits — the peaceful fuzzy-footed countryfolk — in the form of Bilbo Baggins. He’s a likable little guy, if the last person you’d ever expect to be a hero — initially he seems weak and kind of boring, but his hidden strengths and wits come up to the surface when he needs to. By the end, he’s almost a different person.

The dwarves are more comical, and the elves more whimsical in this book, but the supporting characters are still impressive — the crotchety, mysterious wizard Gandalf, the dignified, flawed Dwarf king Thorin Oakenshield, and a Guardsman who becomes a king. Even minor characters like Beorn, Elrond and the menacing Smaug are given plenty of dimension.

“The Hobbit” started as a fluke, grew into a bedtime story, and became one of the best fantasy stories in literary history — a charming adventure in the time that never was. Brilliant.

Review: Shards of Glass by Michelle Sagara

Disclaimer: “Shards of Glass” is the first volume of a new series by Michelle Sagara, but it takes place in the same universe as her Elantra series, and harkens back to events from that series. So if you haven’t read that series, you’re going to be confused.

And it seemed to open with a lot of promise, since a magic school opens the doors for a lot of exploration of a fantasy world. And considering the magic school is actually alive, has a dragon for a chancellor and a giant spider for a librarian, “Shards of Glass” seems like it has a good basis for a fantasy whodunnit – but it feels like it gets tangled up in its own mysteries and doesn’t explore the Academia itself very much.

An ancient magic school called the Academia has been brought out of hibernation, and contains new students for the first time in centuries. A young homeless girl named Raven is brought there to find her best friend Robin, who is now a student at the Academia and who thought she would be happy and safe there. Unfortunately, she arrives just in time for a murder – and discovers a piece of glass under the body. In case you’re wondering, Raven collects pieces of glass, metal, and whatever other “treasures” catch her fancy.

But this is no ordinary glass – not only was it invisible before Raven picked it up, but it burns the hands of the Academia’s avatar, Killian. And as more mysterious murders pile up, Robin and the faculty of the Academia discover more mysterious, extremely dangerous glass and metal. They also have more questions about exactly who Raven is and what powers she has, as she might be the key to figuring out exactly what is trying to destroy the Academia.

The Academia itself is perhaps the weakest element of “Shards of Glass” – precisely because we don’t know much about it. Despite being a school of magic, we only meet a few students, don’t know much about what they teach, and don’t know much about daily life there. Michelle Sagara seems more intrigued by the idea of a living campus and immortal library being infiltrated by inexplicable powers. Fair enough, it is interesting. But it feels like we don’t know the Academia enough to worry about its possible destruction.

Instead, Sagara focuses on the whodunnit aspects of the plot, both the murderous and the magical. Her writing is solid and fairly atmospheric, although the characters tend to repeat things a lot (such as the glass not being visible until Raven got it). It’s only at the two-thirds mark that things start to coalesce and the many oddities – both with Raven and the attacks – are given some kind of answers, and the tension amps up as we find out more about what’s going on.

Raven herself is an interesting character – she has some traits in common with autistic people like highly individual priorities, issues with communication and single-minded focus. Yet it becomes clear soon after that her traits are the result of something else, and she herself isn’t what she seems. Robin seems like a fairly generic character, but similarly we learn that he’s not what he seems. Then there’s the eccentric Barrani Terrano, the draconic chancellor, the temperamental professor Larrantin, and the giant spider-librarian Starrante.

“Shards of Glass” takes a while to pull itself together, but once it does, Michelle Sagara’s spinoff book has some truly gripping twists and developments. For fans of her Chronicles of Elantra series, this would be a treat.

Review: Sky’s End by Marc J. Gregson

Note: I received a free copy from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

The Skylands make for some interesting world-building – vast floating islands, vast metal-plated sky-dragons, and seeming nothing below. 

But the biggest danger might come from your fellow trainees and/or friends in “Sky’s End,” the first book in a new sci-fi series by Marc J. Gregson. It’s reminiscent of books like Pierce Brown’s “Red Rising,” where tragedy hardens and propels a young man into seeking power, even as Gregson’s spare but evocative prose propels the story into a more epic, suspenseful territory.

After his uncle murdered his father, Conrad and his mother were reduced to Lows, living in grinding poverty while he tried to scheme a way to get his sister back from their uncle. But when his mother is killed in a gorgontaun attack, he decides to do the unthinkable: he will become his uncle’s heir by entering the Selection of the Twelve Trades, attain greatness in the Meritocracy, and be able to get in contact with his sister.

Turns out, Conrad is Selected for the most dangerous Trade: Hunter. Hunters dedicate themselves to hunting and killing gorgontauns, then harvesting what they need from the corpses. To make things even worse, his large, violent arch-nemesis Pound has also been Selected, and he’s just as hungry to Rise as Conrad is.

The first big challenge of these Hunters-in-training is the Gauntlet, a rigorous gorgontaun-hunting expedition that puts the noobs in command of their own vessels. Conrad quickly finds himself the lowest on the totem pole, serving first Pound and then the vicious, manipulative Sebastian. But he quickly discovers that Rising may not be the biggest problem he’ll face, as a new threat looms over the Gauntlet – one from a place he never dreamed existed.

“Sky’s End” uncoils its world-building as the story unfolds – at first we’re just introduced to floating islands and a society based rigidly on one’s ruthless ability to “rise” at all costs. But as the story unfolds, Gregson scatters in elements that raise questions about how this world came to be, such as the matter of how the islands float and whether the gorgontauns and other metal-plated predators are a natural part of the ecosystem.

All this is woven through a well-paced, brisk story with leanly-muscled writing reminiscent of Pierce Brown for a younger audience. Gregson also juggles various subplots and shifting character relationships, with people becoming hostile or friendly based on circumstances. At the same time, he spatters it with some solid action scenes, usually involving gorgontaun attacks on a wooden airship, and weaves in a brewing conspiracy that threatens the Skylands.

Conrad is a pretty complex hero as well. After his mother’s death, he’s a hardened, coldly-determined lone wolf who sees everyone else as obstacles to his rise to the top, but some of his fellow trainees and choice criticisms by one of the older Hunters forces him to see that nobody can rise if they isolate themselves. He doesn’t instantly become a “friendship is magic” type, but he does begin balancing human friendships with necessary political alliances and plots. And the supporting cast is pretty well-developed, including the brutish Pound, the mysterious Bryce, quiet mastermind Sebastian, and so on.

“Sky’s End” is a clever, complex skypunk novel that weaves solid world-building into a complex, well-written thriller – and it leaves plenty of space for further adventures. Definitely a good read.

Review: The Dark Is Rising Sequence

The fantasy genre has always had a strong connection to Celtic mythology and British folklore, especially if you can somehow weave Arthurian lore into it. And nowhere are those bonds more evident than in Susan Cooper’s “The Dark Is Rising Sequence,” five timelessly lovely books about an ancient war between good and evil that centers on a small group of children. It sounds simplistic, but Cooper’s haunting writing and masterful command of atmosphere is unparalleled.

In “Over Sea, Under Stone,” the three Drew children come to stay with family friend Merriman Lyon. While messing around in his attic, they discover an ancient treasure map that leads to a hidden grail… if they can figure out what the map’s writing and symbols mean. However, they soon discover that they are not the only ones looking for the grail – three sinister people are also in pursuit, and they will do whatever it takes to claim the prize.

“The Dark Is Rising” shifts its focus to Will Stanton, whose wintry eleventh birthday brings about a terrible and beautiful change. He learns from Merriman that he is the last of the immortal Old Ones who are fighting the evil Dark, and as the power of the Dark grows, Will must gather the six Signs that can stop them. But he soon learns that he is not the only one in danger – the Dark is threatening his beloved family as well.

“Greenwitch” brings together the Drews and Will Stanton at a seaside town in Cornwall, where the grail from the first book has been stolen. Will and Merriman work on Old Ones stuff, Jane is haunted by nightmares about the Greenwitch, a symbolic weaving of branches and leaves cast into the sea, and a sinister artist captures Barney. But the Greenwitch is not just a tangle of sticks – it’s alive with wild magic that neither Old Ones nor the Dark can control.

Then there’s “The Grey King,” which won a Newbury Award. An amnesiac Will is sent to Wales to recover from a severe illness, where he meets the “raven boy” – an albino boy named Bran – and a dog with “eyes that see the wind.” Will must lead Bran into a closer connection with the Old Ones, and uncover a hidden treasure for the Old Ones. But when an accident befalls the dog, Bran is angry with the Old Ones – until the truth of his past comes to light.

Finally, the battle between good and evil climaxes with “Silver On The Tree,” in which Will receives visions and messages from Merriman, telling him that the final clash between the Dark and the Light is nigh. But while the Old Ones are almost ready, they don’t have the power of the Lady. For the sake of the world, he must join forces with the Drew children and Bran, and make their final stand against their mortal enemies.

Susan Cooper’s writing in “The Dark Is Rising Sequence” is the kind that comes around once in a generation – it’s lyrical, subtle, elegant and nuanced, able to switch effortlessly between family squabbles and hauntingly eerie glimpses of a whole other world. She’s at her weakest in “Over Sea, Under Stone,” but even then the book isn’t actually bad – just not as brilliant as the other books. It’s an enjoyable treasure-hunt/fantasy adventure.

She also weaves in a lot of Celtic mythology – primarily Welsh, such as the legend of the Grey King – and Arthurian legend, which add a depth and richness to the story beyond a simple good versus evil conflict. It really gives the story the feeling that it is the natural capstone to countless millennia of magical war, between the starkly evil Dark and the powerful but still very human Old Ones, who are able to make errors and feel sorrow despite their age.

The Drew children initially feel like E. Nesbit characters who somehow stumbled into a late twentieth-century book, but they grow more layered and complicated as the series winds on. Will Stanton is a seamless blend of a clever young boy and a timeless immortal that is both wise and ancient in mind. Overseeing them all is Merriman, an all-seeing guardian who can be alternately dignified and forbidding, or kind and grandfatherly.

With its majestic prose and entrancing, otherworldly characters, the “Dark is Rising Sequence” is a remarkable piece of work, and one that deserves many re-readings. Absolutely captivating, and deserving of its classic status.

Review: Solo Leveling Volume 1 (novel)

In the world of “Solo Leveling,” inter-dimensional gates regularly open up to “dungeons” crawling with strange and dangerous creatures. The only ones who can kill the creatures are hunters, who have awakened powers that let them take down the big bosses.

And out of all those hunters… Jinwoo is the weakest.

Needless to say, there’s plenty of room for improvement for the protagonist of Chugong’s “Solo Leveling” – and even in the brief space of the first volume, he makes quite a bit of improvement. The story thus far is bloody, harrowing, but also somewhat wryly funny – especially when the System intervenes to make life more complicated for the hero.

As mentioned before, Jinwoo Sung is the weakest of the lowest-ranked hunters, able to tag along on only the least threatening missions – and even then, he gets badly hurt. But he has no choice, because he needs the money for his family. When the party he’s with finds a rare double dungeon, Jin-woo is determined to explore the vast, eerie stone chamber filled with statues – and ends up in a nightmare that leaves him alone and dying.

Which is when the System intervenes, healing his body and saving his life. While he recovers, the System gives Jinwoo daily quests (mostly exercise) and the opportunity to level up and acquire new items. Just like a video game. He’s achieving the impossible: becoming steadily stronger, with apparently no limits.

Unfortunately, he soon discovers that even his increased power won’t keep him safe from potential harm in a dog-eat-dog profession, especially when he and another young hunter, Jinho Yoo, sign up for a freelance job posting. The problem is, the guy who’s hiring them, Dongsuk Hwang, is not the genial figure he pretends to be, and the biggest danger may be the other hunters rather than anything inside the dungeon.

The world of “Solo Leveling” is a pretty standard urban fantasy setting. It’s the modern world as we know it, except some people have magical powers and inter-dimensional gates allow them to hunt goblins, giant spiders and snakes, statue-gods, and so on. The most interesting aspect of it is the System that effectively turns Jinwoo into the protagonist of his own personal video game, with all the problems and benefits of that status.

The writing is pretty standard for a light-novel/webnovel’s style, spare and lean with lots of onomatopeia. It feels like Chugong is still building up the plot threads in this volume, since the majority of the story is just devoted to Jinwoo ending up in a nightmarish and life-threatening situation, and then spending a lot of time grinding (which is a bit tedious) and building up his strength. But Chugong has some talent at depicting the raw, wild, desperate interiors of the dungeons, and the monsters in them.

Jinwoo is kind of a mixed hero – at the story’s beginning, he’s courageous, unselfish and quick-witted, but still petrified of dying and acutely aware of his almost comical weakness. However, he becomes a lot colder and less likable as the first volume winds on, after he comes to the conclusion that all people are cowardly backstabbers. Hopefully the presence of Jinho – a golden retriever of a rich boy who constantly addresses him as “boss” – will mellow him out in subsequent volumes.

“Solo Leveling Volume 1” has some growing pains, but it’s an entertaining foray into a series with plenty of promise, solid writing, and a hero who wobbles on the edge of antihero. At the very least, it inspires me to check out volume two.

Review: Solo Leveling Volume 1 (manhwa)

In the world of “Solo Leveling,” inter-dimensional gates regularly open up to “dungeons” crawling with strange and dangerous creatures. The only ones who can kill the creatures are hunters, who have awakened powers that let them take down the big bosses.

And out of all those hunters… Jin-woo is the weakest.

Needless to say, there’s plenty of room for improvement for the protagonist of the manhwa adaptation of Chugong’s “Solo Leveling.” The first volume mostly devotes itself to introducing us to the world of hunters and the hideous events that lead to Jin-woo’s chances to improve himself, with a terrifying and bloody series of challenges at the center of the story. The artwork is half the reason to see this – dark, gloomy and beautifully detailed.

As mentioned before, Sung Jin-woo is the weakest of the lowest-ranked hunters, able to tag along on only the least threatening missions – and even then, he gets badly hurt. But he has no choice, because he needs the money for his family. When the party he’s with finds a rare double dungeon, Jin-woo is determined to explore the vast, eerie stone chamber filled with statues, in the hopes that he can scrounge up a little money.

But then the statues come to life and start killing the party members, including a vast “god” statue that has a very specific list of demands. Unfortunately, those commandments are difficult to decipher, and more and more hunters lose their nerve – leading to them being vaporized or squashed into red smears. To survive this nightmarish scenario, Jin-woo will need more than his wits. He’ll need a System, and he’ll start grinding like a pro if he ever wants to get stronger.

The first volume of “Solo Leveling” is dominated by the adventure in the double dungeon, and the entire eerie, bloody adventure is explored in great detail. It’s genuinely nerve-wracking to watch the hunters dwindle as the adventure goes on – especially as some of them turn on each other, lose limbs or panic and try to escape on foot. The fact that it’s overseen by a creepy, sadistic stone “god” with a toothy grin makes the whole thing even more eerie.

And the story is brought to life by the artwork of Jang Sung-rak (aka Dubu), who used color exceptionally, painting the god’s chamber in stark, ghostly, cold blues and the regular world in warm, sunlit tones. The artwork is also very detailed and expressive, lingering on the characters’ faces to show their terror, tension, eagerness and apprehension, and even brief bursts of action (like the murder centipedes in the desert) are wonderfully dynamic.

We also have a good introduction to Jin-woo, who seems like a vividly realistic character – he’s courageous, unselfish and quick-thinking (he unravels all three commandments without help), but still petrified of dying and acutely aware of his almost comical weakness. But after the System accepts him as a player, we see him starting to branch out into becoming stronger, whether it’s racing laps around the hospital or venturing alone into a new dungeon.

The first volume of “Solo Leveling”‘s manhwa adaptation is a nail-biting experience that flies by quickly, before introducing you to the central conceit of the series – and it promises to get more interesting as Jin-woo levels up.

Review: Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio

The year 2022 was a weird one. For some reason, there were three different Pinocchio movies released to the public: one so bad it was unintentionally funny (the Russian one), one so bad it was just painfully bad (the Disney one) and one that was… sublime.

The last one – the one that people actually wanted to see – was the Oscar-winning stop-motion adaptation by the magnificent Guillermo del Toro, which reimagines the tale during the rise of Italian fascism. Despite the grimness of that setting, it’s the “Pinocchio” that you would expect from del Toro – darkly exquisite, whimsical in an disarmingly alien way, and bittersweet in nature.

During World War I, talented woodcarver Geppetto loses his beloved son Carlo to a bomb. After many years of loneliness and grief, he drunkenly chops down the tree that grew over Carlo’s grave, and carves it into a wooden puppet that looks like a young boy. Then a blue, winged forest spirit decides to grant life to the puppet, and enlists Sebastian, the memoir-writing cricket living in his chest cavity, to guide and help the wooden boy.

But navigating life is difficult for Pinocchio, since Geppetto isn’t sure what to do with a spontaneous and overly-inquisitive child that causes trouble wherever he goes. The wooden boy becomes a circus performer to earn money for his father, and soon discovers that he is immortal – every time he dies, he comes back from the afterlife, albeit a little later each time. This attracts the attention of the Podestà, who wants him trained as a soldier for the ongoing war with the Allied Forces. But Pinocchio’s only goal is to protect his father.

Guillermo del Toro’s quest to make this film stretches over more than a decade, and unlike Disney’s crassly soulless remake of their own classic property, it overflows with heart, passion and bittersweet beauty. It’s also a story that rings deeply with Guillermo del Toro’s unique style and sensibilities, from the reframing of the narrative against the rise of Italian fascism (Pinocchio personally offends Benito Mussolini) to the mixture of darkness and whimsy (the eccentric designs of Death and the Sprite, who have extra eyes, horns, snake body parts and other such parts).

The darkness/whimsy is due to del Toro and Patrick McHale (responsible for the enchanting “Over The Garden Wall”), weaving together themes of paternal love, mortality, freedom, grief and self-sacrifice. But it also has lighthearted scenes like a newborn Pinocchio wheeling around causing chaos in Geppetto’s home. The entire story is rendered in absolutely beautiful stop-motion, which still manages to have a luminous quality that swings between the ethereal and the grounded.

Gregory Mann is absolutely charming as the titular character, capable of depicting Pinocchio throughout his entire journey. There’s also a superb cast including Ewan McGregor as the erudite insect; David Bradley as Geppetto, who learns to love his new (possibly reincarnated) son; Tilda Swinton as the ancient spirits of death and life; Ron Perlman as the cruel fascist official who wants Pinocchio to be a child soldier; and a number of other like Christoph Waltz, Cate Blanchett, Finn Wolfhard, and so on.

Guillermo del Toro’s “Pinocchio” is not only a charming, timeless stop-motion tale, it is also a heartwarming example of when passion and art triumph. Bittersweet, whimsical and enchanting.

Review: Five Nights At Freddy’s (2023)

Even if you’re not a gamer, you’ve probably heard of “Five Nights At Freddy’s.” Scott Cawthon’s hit video game franchise is about employees (and occasionally children) being pursued by anthropomorphic ghost-robot animals. Also, serial killers.

And it’s not surprising that the “Five Nights At Freddy’s” movie shines the brightest when it dives into mascot horror and the lore of the franchise. It’s substantially weaker when it focuses on the human characters’s familial conflicts and internal turmoil, which means that it rebounds solidly in the final act when the various loosely-wound plot threads are finally tied together. Still, did we need custody drama?

Michael (Josh Hutcherson) is a young mall security guard obsessed with the abduction of his little brother when he was a child. But then he loses his job, and faces the possibility of losing custody of his little sister Abby (Piper Rubio) to his vicious aunt. So he takes the only new career path available: a night security guard at the arcade/pizza restaurant known as Freddy Fazbear’s, where he’s mostly there to guard the animatronics. He also encounters Vanessa (Elizabeth Lail), a friendly cop who seems to be very well-informed about the place.

But he soon realizes that the animatronics are actually “alive,” possessed by the spirits of children murdered many years ago – and they seem to have a special bond with Abby. Unbeknownst to him, they also kill people who break in. As he tries to enlist their help to find out who abducted and murdered his little brother, Michael soon discovers that the animatronics are far more dangerous than he ever expected – and they aren’t alone.

“Five Nights At Freddy’s” is easily at its best when it sticks to being “Five Nights At Freddy’s.” The most gripping and engaging parts of the story are when the animatronics are prowling around chewing people’s faces off or biting them in half. It’s not too bloody or graphic, considering this is a Blumhouse movie (it’s actually rather tame for a horror movie) but it does capture some sense of dread and creepiness, especially in the unnaturalness of the animatronics’ movements.

Unfortunately, you also have to wade through a lot of Michael’s personal problems to reach the “Five Nights”-ness, and… they’re not terribly interesting. Obviously some kind of personal stuff is required for the security guard, but the movie needed fewer custody fights and more spooky nighttime conflicts with the killer animatronics. We also didn’t need a scene where the animatronics build a giant blanket fort with Abby, which was just… awkward.

Fortunately, things improve drastically when the third act rolls around, when the animatronics go back to being homicidal, and the backstory behind their deaths is finally explored. There’s a real sense of dread at the thought of dead children brainwashed into amnesiac killers who don’t even remember what they are, so that you both pity them and want to run away from them at top speed. As for the mastermind of the whole scenario, his arrival gives the story an extra jolt of fizzing energy, and I honestly couldn’t get enough of his villainy.

While Hutcherson’s character spends too much time on non-“Freddy” stuff, he gives a very good performance as a young man who has been fundamentally damaged by loss and guilt. Mary Stuart Masterson and Elizabeth Lail also give solid if uncomplicated performances, and Piper Rubio’s performance is pretty good, even though her character seems like she was written to be several years younger than the actress. Matthew Lillard has little screen time, but he absolutely dominates the screen and has just the right amount of scenery chewing. Chef’s kiss.

“Five Nights At Freddy’s” is weaker when it tries to incorporate more original elements, but is at its best when it sticks to what “Five Nights At Freddy’s” is all about. For those who enjoy tales of killer animatronics and serial killers, it’s a mixed bag but one still worth seeing.

Review: The Warm Hands of Ghosts

Disclaimer: I received a copy of this book from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

Nowhere seems more appropriate for a story about the lost and forsaken than a story set in one of the World Wars, whether it’s a fantasy or straight historical fiction. And the search for one of those lost, forsaken souls sparks off the events of “The Warm Hands Of Ghosts,” Katherine Arden’s historical fantasy about a woman’s search for her brother, and that brother’s fall from grace. It’s not a comfortable or complicated book, but it does have a certain dark, dismal charm.

It’s 1918, World War I is raging, and nurse Laura Iven has little other than her work to occupy her – her parents died in freak accidents, she suffered some nasty injuries in her field work at the front, and her brother Freddy has just been declared missing, presumed dead. Then a seance tells her that Freddie is still alive – and though she doesn’t entirely believe it, she decides to go back to the front with her new friends Pim Shaw and Mary Burton to find out what happened to him.

Soon after arriving, the women take shelter in a strange, dreamlike hotel, where a man named Faland plays the fiddle and tantalizes people with a magic mirror. While Laura searches for some sign of her brother, she is told stories about the Fiddler and the sinister spell he weaves over the people who find him – and she begins to wonder if Freddie’s fate might somehow be connected to this man.

Alternating chapters also show what happened to Freddie the year before – how he was left for dead in an overturned pillbox, with a German soldier named Hans Winter. The two men bond as they try to find a way back to one of their armies, and Freddie goes to extreme lengths to make sure his new friend will survive. But these lengths also put him in the hands of Faland, and a Faustian pact that will steal away what is most precious to him.

“The Warm Hands of Ghosts” is a book that is easier to appreciate than to actually enjoy – it’s a beautifully-written, beautifully-sculpted tale about the horrors of war, the price people will pay to escape them, and the bonds between people facing those horrors. But at the same time, Katherine Arden’s tale has stretches that aren’t exactly gripping, especially in Laura’s part of the story, and while the grey bleakness of the war is well-explored, she doesn’t really fully address the implications or theological aspects of the story that she brings up.

Furthermore, the alternating chapters from Laura and Freddie’s perspectives do start to sap some of the tension, especially when Faland’s true nature reveals itself – you kind of want the story to just stick to Freddie and explore the horror of his situation. Instead, every time something important happens in one of the parallel narratives, it’s cut off and we switch to the other one.

The characters also are a mixed bag – Laura is a character that it’s easier to admire than to like, being a rather cold and prickly woman. It’s entirely understandable, and well-displayed, how she became that way, but it’s hard to warm up to her. Supporting characters like the enchantingly feminine Pim or the bluntly practical American doctor Jones end up feeling more like characters you want to follow. And Freddie is a more raw and dynamic character, since his journey is more horrifying and gripping, as is his relationship with enemy soldier Winter.

“The Warm Hands of Ghosts” is a striking, well-written and well-researched tale of war, loss and the sinister forces that underlie human horrors. However, it needed more fleshing-out of some aspects of the plot, and a heroine who feels less cold and armored.

Review: The Kingdom of Sweets by Erika Johansen

“The Kingdom of Sweets” is a lot like its protagonist: difficult to love.

In fact, the standalone novel based very loosely on E. T. A. Hoffmann’s short story/Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky’s ballet is genuinely hard to read for the first two-thirds of its length. This dark fantasy tinged with horror is expertly put together and cleverly weaves together fantasy with Russian history, but is also graced with characters who are uniformly unlikable.

As newborns, Clara and Natasha were blessed/cursed by the sorcerer Drosselmeyer – Clara was declared “light” and Natasha “dark.” And they grew up accordingly: Clara was beautiful and beloved by everyone, while Natasha was unattractive and ignored, taking her solace in a world of books. Then, at the Christmas party that marks their seventeenth birthday, it’s announced that newly-pregnant Clara is marrying the wealthy boy that Natasha is infatuated with – and both girls are given strange living toys by Drosselmeyer.

Soon Clara is whisked away into a magical Kingdom of Sweets, and Natasha follows her doggedly. But she soon senses that there is something profoundly wrong about this strange sugar-coated dimension, which is ruled over by the Sugarplum Fairy.

And as a bitter, jealous Natasha discovers the depths of her sister’s betrayal, she is offered a Faustian bargain by the Fairy – if she helps the Fairy destroy Drosselmeyer, the Fairy will let her kill Clara and take her appearance and her life. But the life that Clara seizes for herself isn’t as sweet as she hoped it would be – and as the years go by, she discovers that she can’t escape the sins of her own actions. Her only hope is to uncover the ancient magic that Drosselmeyer coveted, which may be her only escape.

Let’s be upfront about this: for the first two-thirds of “Tbe Kingdom of Sweets,” there are absolutely no likable characters. At all. Everybody without exception is a terrible person of one stripe or another, whether they’re a cold unfeeling parent, a murderous sorcerer, sadistic socialites or a shallow selfish sister. This includes Natasha herself, who is a bitter, hate-consumed person who has a heavy dose of Not Like Other Girls Syndrome, and deludes herself into thinking she is smarter and more insightful than everybody else. She would fit in well on social media.

As a result, I had to struggle to get through the first two-thirds of the book, despite Erika Johansen’s skillful writing and some well-written interlacing of Hoffman’s tale with actual Russian history from the turn of the 20th century. It just wasn’t enjoyable to be in Natasha’s head because I was so repulsed by the character, especially since the narrative doesn’t really hint at future growth, and I couldn’t really bring myself to care much about whatever ironic punishment she suffered as a result of her own actions.

However, things started to turn around when Clara reenters the story; the story becomes more streamlined and organic, and Natasha is forced to face the evil that has been brewing inside her for so long. It makes that last third of the book more poignant, more gripping, and more suspenseful as Natasha has to find a way to, if not undo what she’s done, then at least try to make amends while defeating the Fairy. It becomes more a story about redemption and forgiveness, which softens Natasha’s harsh, prickly worldview and how she looks at others, such as the priest.

But to get to that solid final third, you have to slog through the first two-thirds, which are simply not enjoyable to read. If you don’t mind that, then “The Kingdom of Sweets” is a solid dark’n’twisted version of the Nutcracker story.