Travel by Bullet – by John Scalzi (Review)

The Dispatcher #3

Scifi, Thriller, Novella

Subterranean Press; April 30, 2023

224 pages (ebook)

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7 / 10 ✪

I was kindly granted a copy of this book in return for an honest review. Many thanks to Subterranean Press (@SubPress) and NetGalley for the eARC! All opinions are my own.

• The Dispatcher Review • Murder by Other Means Review •

Please beware minor spoilers for previous Dispatcher books. Or check out my reviews above.

Sometime in the near future, the world will change. When someone is murdered, they come back; returning to a place of personal safety, naked as the day they were born. Nowadays, society has created a new role to exploit this quirk of creation—a killer for hire, but in order to save lives, rather than steal them.

Tony Valdez is a dispatcher, and life has never been busier. The pandemic has ravaged the world, and people are dying. Most of the time dispatching those that are near death does nothing—sometimes even helping quicken their demise. But the public is scared, and the scared often do stupid things.

When Tony is summoned to a Chicago ER, he is confronted by a familiar face: a fellow dispatcher. But Mason isn’t looking too hot. He’s been cut and bled, hit by a car and is suffering internal bleeding, hemorrhaging, and organ failure. In short—without dispatching, he’ll die.

But Mason is resisting being dispatched, saying he’d die first. And it’s up to Tony to convince him otherwise.

All Tony wants to do is keep his friend safe, but to do that he’s forced into a conspiracy involving billions of dollars in cryptocurrency, murder, betrayal, and a new and innovative form of travel—by bullet.

—

“How much money?”
It occurred to me that I hadn’t actually thought about how much money to ask for. I went for the first number I could think of. “I want three point one four million dollars.”
Williamson thought about this for a second. “You want pi million dollars.”
“Yes,” I said.
“Why pi?”
“It’s a nice round number.”
“It’s literally not.”

—

For a series set in the “near future”, I certainly didn’t expect the Dispatcher to return us to the not-so-distant past. But that’s the problem with a book set in the near future—when something like the pandemic happens, you can’t just write it into all your books without at least one of them reducing the timeline to nonsense. Now, the bad news is that I was pretty annoyed by this obvious mistake that’s completely central to the plot. The good news is that that’s really my main complaint.

All in all, I actually quite enjoyed this one.

That said… I mean, yeah, most of the plot revolves around issues that are topical to the near PAST, but that doesn’t mean that they ruin the story itself. Pandemic and cryptocurrencies aside, the conspiracy of corruption and greed reads about how one would suspect. It’s generally straightforward—something I’d expect from Scalzi, to be honest—but with some nice twists thrown in, particularly those from the world of the Dispatcher itself, particularly the concept of “travel by bullet”. But, to be fair, this installment neither pioneers the concept nor leans into it nearly as much as I’d’ve suspected. There’s really only one instance, and it’s pretty close to the beginning.

As for the rest of it, well, there’s not a whole lot of the dispatcher world involved in the conspiracy. There’s some (as I’ve previously noted), but I’d’ve liked to see more science fiction in this supposed science fiction novella. Don’t get me wrong—I actually quite enjoyed the story, especially at the time, but looking back on it… there were a decent amount of world-building points that annoyed me. In the end these all kind of evened-out. I’d definitely recommend Travel by Bullet—it progresses the Dispatcher story, and indicates that Scalzi likely will return to the world again (both things that I’d be a fan of)—but not without a few caveats. The “near-future” set in the recent past is a big one, but so is the lack of a wholly Dispatcher world. Overall… it’s a good read, just try not to read too much into it.

Wormhole – by Eric Brown & Keith Brooke (Review)

standalone

Scifi, Mystery

Angry Robot; November 22, 2022

433 pages (ebook)

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5.5 / 10 ✪

I was kindly granted an advance copy in exchange for an honest review. Many thanks to Angry Robot for the eARC! All opinions are my own.

The world has changed. A combination of climate change, overpopulation, and resource shortage has led to mass migration of humanity and the need to explore outside the bounds of Earth’s gravity well. Thus an expedition has been launched to Mu Arae, an earth-like planet and trip of about 80 years. The crew are to be kept in suspended animation for the duration, and expected to investigate the planet before deploying a highly experimental contraption as a means of creating a stable wormhole back to Earth.

London, 2190

Gordon Kemp is a former homicide detective, stuck investigating cold-cases as his career winds down. Assigned to a high-profile case named top priority, he and his partner Danni Bellini are surprised to discover that the main suspect—long since departed on the Mu Arae expedition—is not as out of range as they once believed. In fact, with the wormhole expected to be opened within the week, the Kemp’s superiors have instructed him to be ready to depart and retrieve the suspect at first convenience.

The suspect: Rima Cagnac, wife of the illustrious Sebastien White—one of the richest and most influential people on Earth. Accused of killing her husband, she was somehow allowed to leave Earth on the expedition, having been cleared of suspicion. For roughly a century, at least.

While what Kemp and his partner uncover while investigating this case may well change the course of history, what Rima Cagnac discovers on the distant Mu Arae will well shape the future.

—

Let’s start with the investigation. A cold-case into one of the most prolific unsolved murders in history, dismissed due to lack of evidence, the main suspect allowed to walk (to another planet no less)—and pretty much assumed off-limits afterwards. But instead of focusing on solving (or framing up) the crime that they had eighty years to perfect, they decide to half-ass it on the spot a week before the wormhole is set to open. The conspiracy—because obviously the new evidence is bogus—is so thin that it can be picked apart by two down-on-their-luck detectives and their hacker friend in about a week.

Despite this, the story is actually not terrible. Engaging, interesting (if not deep), and at least somewhat mysterious and immersive. While I developed issues with the plot somewhere around the three-quarters mark—and while I was never absolutely in love with every aspect of the story—it wasn’t a hard book to get into. A decent plot; there were problems with it, but they could be overlooked (early on). The characters, at least those of Danni and Gordon and Rima, were interesting and relatable. But when we stray from the main cast… the depth peters out in a hurry.

Enter Edouard Bryce: key story element and unrepentant chauvinistic ass. Unveiled as Danni’s love interest halfway through the story, he doesn’t change to attract the independent, modern professional that she’s portrayed as. Instead, she changes to suit him. I know it’s very much possible and realistic, but it was still frustrating. He’s probably likable to someone, but that someone was never me.

Okay, now let’s address the twist. It’s… well, it’s too much.

The main issue with Wormhole is that it tries to do too much. A detective story quickly becomes a space exploration—a planet exploration event with potential first contact. With a wormhole added as an afterthought. With a conspiracy that draws secrets from the plot that it can’t even know. There’s just too much going on, too much continually competing to be the center of attention, especially as we approach the latter half of the novel.

TL;DR

Wormhole is a mystery, exploration, adventure, thriller, that tries to appeal to all genres equally yet ultimately manages to succeed in none of them. The reason? It continually tries to do too much. A mystery becomes a space exploration, which becomes a scientific wonder, which begets conspiracy, revolution, dystopia, thriller, aliens, romance, memoir, philosophy… yeah, you get the idea. It’s a bit like Great North Road—the Peter F. Hamilton novel, only crammed into about one-third of the space. Too much, too hectic, not well-enough thought out or built or explained. While there is a decent story within, it’s not going to appeal to everyone. Think about any one element for too long and everything breaks down. All in all, a disappointment for sure.

The Dark Between the Trees – by Fiona Barnett (Review)

standalone

Horror, Gothic

Solaris/Rebellion; October 11, 2022

304 pages (ebook)

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6 / 10 ✪

Please beware minor spoilers for the Dark Between the Trees.

I was kindly granted an advance copy in exchange for an honest review. Many thanks to Solaris/Rebellion, and NetGalley for the eARC! All opinions are my own.

In 1643, two soldiers from the Roundhead company—a unit of Parliamentarian soldiers—stumble into the small village of Tapford, wounded and shaken. Here, the men are taken and gaoled for desertion. Only one man, Thomas Edgeworth, sees the sunrise the following day, his companion, Josiah Moody, having succumbed to his injuries during the night. Upon asking to speak with a local priest, he tells his tale, the one that eventually drew Dr. Alice Christopher to him—and to the Corrigal.

Onto the present day, which finds five women heading into the confines of Moresby Wood in an effort to trace the footsteps of the Roundhead company, as provided by Edgeworth, the sole survivor of the incident. In addition to the stories and legends passed down by locals over the years, the history of Roundhead company remains one of the most promising pieces of the puzzle—a tale that Alice has staked her entire career on.

And so, while Dr. Christopher leads her team of wardens and grad students into the Wood, some 350 years prior, Captain Alexander Davies leads his company of seventeen men into Moresby as well. Neither know what they’ll find here—though one has a much better idea.

Something dark lurks in Moresby Wood. Something ancient, something unnatural.

The Corrigal.

—

I was surprised by just how much of this book wasn’t about the Corrigal. I mean, the starring, almost titular villain, and it plays just a footnote to the real mystery of Moresby: that of the… what exactly?

There’s a witch in there—or so it’s said, as we never see one. Like the Corrigal, after a time it’s just abandoned in place of… a mystery.

But let’s not get too far ahead.

The Dark Between the Trees starts out as a gothic, atmospheric horror story, set in the disorientating and often claustrophobic confines of Moresby Wood—a place that might’ve been lightened up somewhat had anyone had the idea of climbing a tree. Plastered by rain and often choked by mist, the two groups follow more or less the same pathways along their journey to the center of the mystery—one to find what has befallen the other. There are two main POVs: that of Dr. Christopher’s group, and that of Captain Davies. They are told in alternating form, with the two groups progressing at around the same rate. It actually works quite well, for a time, as the tension and atmosphere of the tale plays well in the confines of the Wood.

The dueling legends of the Corrigal and the Witch wreak havoc with each group, albeit for different reasons. The scientists are divided in two on the legend—between skeptics and believers. The soldiers, on the other hand, are divided into three—those that fear the Witch (and through her the Devil), those that fear the Corrigal (an ancient beast predating religion), and those that scoff at both notions. It’s honestly hard for me to pick which group I related to more, as I think they’re all a bit disillusioned. The Witch never really materializes into anything. The Corrigal does, but likewise is dropped in favor of the more mysterious mystery. A mystery which I still don’t really understand even though it was the center of the last handful of chapters.

Okay, so what am I saying here? I realize it’s a bit confusing, as even I’m a bit confused. The story was good until it wasn’t. The atmosphere, the tension, the plot all start off strong, but wither long before the end. I experienced some genuinely terrifying moments when we are at last confronted by the Corrigal, but then it’s whisked away and never really holds the same place in the story again. The end was confusing. And a letdown. Not to mention a complete departure from the rest of the book. The pacing—again, which started off quite well, and continued that way for most of the tale—went to pieces near the close. The characters followed its lead.

So… pretty much what I’m saying is that the Dark Between the Trees is 50-80% of a good book. After that it’s a book, and after that it’s just confusing and dark. I… wouldn’t recommend it, but I’d keep an eye on the author, as this was her debut, and there’s a lot to like in this story. Just maybe not enough.

Death in the East – by Abir Mukherjee (Review)

Wyndham & Banerjee Investigations #4

Mystery, Historical Fiction

Pegasus Books; November 14, 2019

414 pages (hardcover)

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8 / 10 ✪

‘ Where there are witches, should we not hunt them? ‘

Please beware spoilers for the Wyndham and Banerjee Investigations Books #1-3.

• Review of A Rising Man •
• Review of A Necessary Evil •
• Review of Smoke and Ashes •

London, 1905

As a young constable, Sam Wyndham walks the streets of the Jewish quarter, his assigned beat, only to come across an assault. Two men assailing one woman. Only after chasing the men from the scene does Wyndham recognize her—Bessie Drummond, a former flame, brutally beaten and left for dead. He hails a cab and rushes her to the hospital, where Bessie recovers.

But only days later, Bessie is attacked again, this time in her own rooms. And this time, she is not so lucky.

The resultant investigation goes far deeper than Wyndham could possibly imagine, and will test his desire to see it through to the end.

India, 1922

Death in the East finds Sam Wyndham departing Calcutta, hopping a train bound for the jungle interior of Assam, seeking out an ashram in the hopes of curing him of his long-standing opium addiction. The monastery takes all; natives and Europeans, young and old, rich and poor. But there’s a catch. The monks of this ashram seek to cure men of their addiction, but should any relapse, they are turned away. In short: there are no repeat customers.

The Harvill Secker cover of Death in the East

The trial is hell, that much is certain, but it’s a worthy price in escaping addiction. Only amidst the throes of withdrawal and hallucination, Wyndham sees a ghost from long before. A man he assumed dead, one he thought he’d never see again, and hoped he wouldn’t. But when Wyndham recovers from the episode, there is no sign of the man. He pushes it to the recesses of his mind, trying to tell himself it was all a dream. But doubt gnaws at him.

The doubt reasserts itself when another addict from the ashram turns up dead, one that looks very much like Wyndham. Now Sam must pursue this spectre in the hopes of preventing another murder—and to finally put his own ghosts to rest.

—

“I have noticed,” said Surrender-not as we walked back up the hill towards the club, “that wherever you go, people tend to die.”
“That’s nonsense.”
“What about that railway sub-inspector out near Bandel last year? You ask him for a railway timetable and twenty minutes later he’s dead.”
“He was hit by a train,” I said. “I don’t see how that was my fault.”
“I didn’t say it was your fault. Just that people seem to die around you. Remember my paternal grandmother? She died two days after she met you.”
“She was eighty-nine years old.”
“You have to admit, it’s curious. I’m thinking I should introduce you to my uncle Pankaj. I’ve never liked him.”

—

And so we come to the novel that every detective/mystery author must write: that with a pair of interconnected mysteries, happening at different time periods. I swear, there are so many of these there should really be an easier way of defining them. Pastbacks? Dual timeline mysteries? Overlapping post-time cases? I dunno—I’m really hoping that someone will just tell me what they’re called. Although I kinda liked “pastbacks”.

Anyway, despite the cliché that these types of mysteries have become, we enter Death in the East, the fourth Wyndham and Banerjee, and the second outside the city of Kolkata. While Wyndham enters the story alone, don’t fret—Banerjee will join him before its end. After the crowded, chaotic beauty that is Calcutta, the countryside ashram is a whole new setting entirely. And unlike A Necessary Evil, England still rules this corner of India; the local natives cowed, despite whatever sway Gandhi has elsewhere.

It’s a new setting, one that the author brings to life just as effectively as the choked and diverse streets of Colonial India. Out here the Europeans have taken to the countryside, only to find it wanting. Instead of adapting, they’ve carved out their own little England, while duly complaining about how it’s not the same. It’s quite a different backdrop to the tale, though one equally as enthralling as any that preceded it.

The mystery itself—of course—takes place in two parts. One set in 1905 London, the other in 1922 India. The two alternate chapters for a time, though each begins to repeat as we come to both the meat of their respective tales. I found that this worked quite well, and was relieved to see that the book didn’t just stick to the alternating style the whole way through, as some novels do. In general, I’m not a fan of the dual timeline kinda mystery. Again, I find it overdone and cliché, but Death in the East was at least told and constructed well—not getting into any of the nitty gritty details of what went on. Both mysteries were entertaining, and when they came together, the resulting conclusion was well done.

The book has a good sense of humor, while still maintaining the atmosphere of a good murder mystery. The series continues to poke fun at all things England while underlining some of the positives of the Empire, and its many underlying failures with racism, bigotry, and colonialism. My favorite such point was made somewhere in the middle and complains that what “godforsaken place” would see the sun rise in the middle of the night—poking fun at the fact that for quite a while, the entire Empire was managed by one timezone. That’s India, Fiji, the Bahamas, and England—all on Greenwich time.

TL;DR

Honestly, the main complaint I have with Death in the East is the whole dual timeline mystery thing—they’re overdone and overused to the point that everyone and their sitcom has to have at least one. Otherwise, it was a good entry to the series, one that sees Wyndham address his long-running opium problem, while still managing to get some work done. Banerjee joins him, of course, but we are left with out some fantastic running characters from Calcutta, and provided with a few throwaways that probably won’t feature in any additional tales. The mystery—BOTH mysteries—were solid, interesting, entertaining, deep. Even though there aren’t any compelling new additions to the series (character-wise), those replacements we do get are unique and interesting enough to see us through this entry. Plus, it’s good to get out of the city once in a while and stretch your legs, right? Go to an ashram in the jungle to puke your guts out and take in a lovely murder. It’s almost as though you never really left.

The Half Life of Valery K – by Natasha Pulley (Review)

Standalone

Mystery, Historical Fiction

Bloomsbury Publishing; July 26, 2022

384 pages (ebook)

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7.75 / 10 ✪

I was kindly granted an advance copy in exchange for an honest review. Many thanks to Bloomsbury & NetGalley for the eARC! All opinions are my own.

In Soviet Russia, the government monitored everything, but especially its own citizens. In 1937, Valery Kolkhanov was sent to Germany by the government to study biochemistry and radiology so that he could use what he learned for the benefit of his motherland. It was an educational and cultural experience that Valery never forgot, though it exposed him to more than he bargained for.

And then, in 1956, it got him arrested.

Jump forward to 1963, where we find Valery in a Siberian gulag, a Zek (a political prisoner) interred for that fateful time spent abroad. Time, if you remember, that the government sponsored. Serving his sixth year of a ten-year sentence, Valery’s priorities are food, warmth, avoiding frostbite, and keeping his head down—though he’s under no illusions regarding his future. He will die here; it’s just a matter of when.

Only the government still has use for him, it seems. Scooped up from Siberia, Valery is transported thousands of kilometers only to be dropped in another site, albeit a much different one. There are townsfolk and apartments, a lake and a reactor, scientists and guards. This, is Chelyabinsk 40.

Chelyabinsk 40, or simply City 40, is a radioecological research facility established to study the longterm effects of radiation on the environment, so that it might one day benefit humanity (i.e. the Soviet Union). Valery is but one of a growing population of scientists stationed at the Lighthouse, a scientific facility built to study the effects of the Event that occurred in the Techa River basin in 1957. An event that is never spoken of, but that left the lake and forest in a 40km radius heavily irradiated. But from what, no one is saying.

Even as Valery begins his research, he’s struck by so many more questions than solutions. In part due to the faulty data he’s been provided. Intentionally faulty, it seems. More than that, why is there so much radiation in the region? Or even, how?

Even more mysteries emerge the more he looks into it. Where is the radiation coming from, and why aren’t the citizens informed about it? Who are the mysterious people living in the forest, and why are they disappearing? What happened in 1957, and how does it relate to the present?

And if he’s to go fishing for answers to these questions Valery might not even live as long as he had had they just left him in Siberia.

—

That peculiar thing was happening, the one that had happened in Leningrad when Valery was young; everyone knew one thing to be true, but everyone was obliged to keep insisting it wasn’t. Gosh, of course everyone who’s arrested is guilty. Of course Truth only prints the honest-to-god truth, it’s in the name.

Of course the radiation is fine.

—

It was Sunday, and Valery was still curled up in a ball in bed, watching Albert turn his tank heater right up. On the reasoning that an octopus was the best person to know how warm or cold an octopus wanted to be, Valery had shown him how to use it and put an octopus-friendly lever on the dish, in case dripping shorted the electronics. It seemed to work, and it saved him from worrying that Albert would freeze in the night.

—

I’ll admit that I mostly just skimmed the prompt for this one before requesting it. An epic from the Cold War set in a mysterious town in the USSR. It got classed as science fiction and fantasy, so it was a shoe-in. Vibes of Wayward Pines and various Cold War spy thrillers. Therefore upon starting it I was curious about exactly how fast and loose it was going to play with history.

It turns out not very much.

Before reading this I was at least familiar with the Malak incident in Russia, which was at the time the worst nuclear disaster in history (it has since been moved to third—behind Chernobyl and Fukushima), despite the wider world not knowing much about it. Like, for example, what the hell happened, or how. Or why. But this book—despite being a work of fiction—fills in many of the blanks. Now, the story is still fantasy; Valery and Shenkov, Resovskaya, the octopus, pretty much the entire plot. But that doesn’t mean that a lot of what happened in it was real. The gulag may not have homed a chemist named Valery Kolkhanov, but it held thousands of political prisoners (and millions more), sent for the very real crimes of speaking English, have visited Europe, getting drunk and vocally disagreeing with the government, or getting outed by people they’d never met on charges that couldn’t possibly have been real. City 40 may not have been the scene of a thrilling plot like this, but it was the scene of a very real and very secretive nuclear incident, a radioecological research zone, and a real laboratory know as “the Lighthouse”. Sufficient that I was wondering how much would be real and how much would be fiction: the setting was entirely real; the history was entirely real; the plot was entirely plausible, but just as much fiction.

Natasha Pulley totally nailed the USSR vibe. Pretending everything’s fine even when everything points to the contrary. Paranoia is rampant. Everyone overanalyzing everything they say with the fear of being sent off to Siberia. Optimism also being a trip to Siberia rather than a bullet in the head. Women actually being contributing members of society, except where science is concerned. Communism and Russia seem to go hand in hand, except that the two together is almost completely nonsensical.

This was a slow build, one that took me longer than I’d’ve liked to get into. For the first third/half of it I had it pegged as a six star (out of 10) read. But as the mystery stretched, the story dug its hooks into me, and there was an octopus introduced—it gradually ranked higher and higher. So much so that I’d class this at about an 8—quite enjoyable and entertaining, but just ever so unfeasible.

This part, however, was easy for me to peg. For as much as I appreciated the romance, it was just hard to sell as anything more than a friendship. Yes, it was plausible, but not in a way that felt very real to me. Now, this might’ve been because I’d been immersed in the plot and the romance felt like a distraction from it, or it might have been that it felt like something inane—a budding friendship that just kept pushing the bounds of belief. Whatever the case, it was mostly this that I objected to. Sure, there were a few little things in the story as well—some of the language, the flashbacks—but the science seemed on point (I’m a physicist, not a chemist), and the story was wickedly entertaining, so who am I to argue?

TL;DR

A story set around the mysterious Malak incident in Russian USSR, the Half Life of Valery K takes place in a secret Soviet city where everyone is expendable and no one is safe. Radiation has crippled the countryside and permeated its citizens. And it’s up to the scientists of City 40 to stop it from happening again. An entertaining and immersive mystery once it gets going, the Half Life features strong characters and an interesting story, if a weak romance that only really takes over on its back half—like it was added as an afterthought to everything else. With vibes of Wayward Pines and every spy thriller set in the Cold War, this was definitely a book I’ve no trouble recommending, and an author I’d very much like to see more of!

Upgrade – by Blake Crouch (Review)

Standalone

Scifi, Thriller

Ballantine Books; July 12, 2022

352 pages (ebook)

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8 / 10 ✪

I was kindly granted an advance copy in exchange for an honest review. Many thanks to Ballantine, Penguin & NetGalley for the eARC! All opinions are my own.

When Logan Ramsay was young, his mother was engaged in the greatest mass gene-editing in history. If successful, it had the power to save millions from famine and starvation. Miriam Ramsay was one of the greatest minds of her generation; her son’s hero and idol. Until she failed.

And instead of saving billions, the project killed millions.

Miriam Ramsay didn’t survive that failure, taking her own life some months later. Logan did a stint in jail, imprisoned due to his mother’s mistake. The only reason he wasn’t put away for life was that he couldn’t’ve known what his mother was engaged in. For you see, Logan was the son of a genius cursed with an average mind.

Now Logan is an agent with the GPA (the Gene Protection Agency), an organization devoted to keep history from repeating itself, and the son of the most famed mass-murderer in history is trying desperately to atone for his past.

Until his past catches up with him.

A typical day for the GPA: an informant, a threat, a raid. Only this one goes awry, and Logan is caught in the crossfire. He awakens in the ER—confused, feverish, infected with an unknown virus. But as soon as the fever comes it dissipates, but Logan is kept under observation. Only then is he told the truth: the virus was not intended to make him sick, but to alter his genetic structure.

And Logan begins to notice a difference.

He’s faster, stronger. Smarter. The very definition of upgraded. But he’s also the GPA’s greatest threat. And that’s just the start.

—

I didn’t live in a world where any of my dreams were possible anymore.
And the hardest truth—the one that had been eating me slowly from the inside for most of my adult life—was that even if it was, I didn’t possess a fraction of the raw intelligence of an Anthony Romero or a Miriam Ramsay.
I had extraordinary dreams and an ordinary mind.

—

It is a supremely cruel thing to have your mind conjure a desire which it is functionally unable to realize.
No one teaches you how to handle the death of a dream.

—

Upgrade is the typical Blake Crouch thriller—immersive, plausible, addictive. A great read, start to finish. It has the same grasp of science featured in Dark Matter (plausible and streamlined) but without all of the muddy time-travel issues. It’s the same post-humanism of some of his shorter fiction (a world in flux, a new era looming), only in a longer format. It takes a similar approach to Wayward Pines (mystery on the run, a lone wolf mentality), but without all the messiness in the following books.

Simply said, Upgrade is the distilled version of all Crouch’s books to date. In a word: perfection.

Except, no. It isn’t.

While the story is strong on its own and the plot deep and often mysterious, the story takes place in a bubble. While world events are relayed through Logan, I never really got a feel for the outside world—how the world was before its fall, and after it; how it was dealing with the events of the present, where the chips fell in relation to the future—it just seemed… muted. Like the story was taking place in a bubble, everything else is viewed through the swirling haze of the waters around it. This certainly works—to a point. But with the bubble comes a disconnect: an uneven pace, a disconnect from reality, a lack of importance. Instead of banking the tension when it comes, Crouch ups the pace instead, and we go from a slower, technical build to an all-out race to the finish.

Despite this, Upgrade is still a good read. It just works—on the same level that all of the author’s thrillers work. It was quite readable throughout, even when the pacing was strange or the scientific terms and jargon threatened to overwhelm. The story never loses its way, always manages to stay front and center. The post-humanism drank me in and kept me, even through the end. The ending itself was good, twists and turns at all the requisite times.

TL;DR

Overall, Upgrade is an enjoyable thriller, perfect for those summer nights you just don’t want to end. And when the night turns to day and the moon sits high and pale in the morning light, you find that you’re still hooked—lost on the prospect of what happens next. Upgrade is like that; a lovely thriller that makes you think, but keeps on so that you don’t get lost in your own mind. While the plot kept going on and on, the pacing and informationism did its best to keep out of its own way. Something that it… more or less manages. I never felt overwhelmed by information, though sometimes it was a near thing. The story always keeps rolling just in the nick of time, so that nothing ever gets to dry or dull. And while it delivers in the way that all Crouch’s thrillers manage—Upgrade just doesn’t seem as polished, despite the name.

Friend of the Devil – by Stephen Lloyd (Review)

Standalone

Thriller, Horror, Mystery

G.P. Putnam’s Sons; May 10, 2022

240 pages (ebook)

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6 / 10 ✪

I was kindly granted an advance copy in exchange for an honest review. Many thanks to NetGalley and Penguin for the eARC! All opinions are my own.

Please beware minor spoilers (and major spoilers—in one paragraph that’s marked as spoilery).

1980’s New England. An 11th century manuscript of untold value and much deeper worth has gone missing from haut monde boarding school Danforth Putnam, where the elite intermingle with the destitute. Sam Gregory—insurance investigator and scarred war vet—sets forth to the isle to investigate.

Upon landing Sam finds more cause for concern than just a lost manuscript. There are students missing—not that anyone seems too concerned. Danforth Putnam has an interesting system on the books to balance its aristocratic pedigree. Namely, granting orphans a full tuition at the school so long as they help out with some of the more unsavory labor, below the status of the rich and famous. The students that have gone missing, of course, belong to the lower class—motherless urchins that no one will miss. And indeed no one seems to.

But Sam is only here for the book. And while the missing students worry him—he really can’t do anything about them.

But the longer he spends at Danforth Putnam, the more Sam worries that the missing students might tie-in to the absence of the book. Confronted with wild rumors of witchcraft and murders, he must navigate the warren of gossip and lies that exist at any school, at least so long as he hopes to find the book. But Sam is tireless and ardent in his duty, which is good—for one never knows just how deep the rabbit hole might go.

—

“Cops know how much the book’s worth?”

Thomas Arundel sighed. “Danforth Putnam is technically in West Cabot County. Last year, West Cabot County had three murders, two dozen rapes, nearly four hundred aggravated assaults and eighteen arsons. I called about a stolen book. Trust me, Mr. Gregory, they don’t care what it’s worth. As far as anyone own that side of the Atlantic is concerned, this is an island full of spoiled rich kids with spoiled-rich-kid problems, and a stolen book, even a valuable one, fits firmly in that category.”

—

The story is entertaining, exciting, and immersive. The mystery itself is interesting and fast-paced, so I never had any trouble reading it. Sam Gregory is a little bit of a cliché—a Vietnam vet who uses cigarettes and a wise-ass routine to mask his PTSD, while refusing to play by the rules. Good thing he’s a PI and not a detective, or it would’ve been an unacceptable level of cliché. But I guess my tolerance for freelance or third-party gumshoes is a lot more lenient than beat cop. I actually quite enjoyed his renegade persona and sarcasm, though I still feel like it’s the default state for any 80’s cop. Don’t get me started on the reporter angle. If there are two POVs in any mystery/thriller nowadays, odds are they’re a reporter and some kinda detective.

The character development in this was about as deep and intricate as the characters themselves. As in, they weren’t. Everyone—even Sam and Harriet—were one-sided and shallow. Only one character showed anything even remotely like growth, and yet I really wouldn’t’ve called it that.

While Friend of the Devil doesn’t try anything new at the outset, the more you dig into the story, the more it threatens to exploit these clichés in unexpected ways. Overall, the story was interesting, immersive, and thrilling. An 11th century manuscript missing, a wayward teen obsessed with magic and power, missing students, terrible secrets, a plot that refused to slow down once it got rolling. And then comes the end.

And the main issue I had with it. The scene comes close to the end and is the lynchpin for everything that follows. And it’s… ridiculous. It’s clear that the author had an ending in mind, and had written up a thrilling conclusion to match, but was having trouble connecting the two. And instead of reworking one or the other—they forced it.

°°

Beware spoilers for the following paragraph
The scene in question takes place between a teenage girl and a grown man. The girl is noted as being undersized, appearing much like a twelve-year old instead of her actual sixteen. The man is described as strong, 6’3, 220, built a bit like a boxer. Additionally, the teenager has no history or interest in martial arts or dedicated exercise (yes, I know one can be physically fit without an interest in such things—that’s not the point I’m trying to make—just give me a minute here). She also suffers from none-too-rare epileptic seizures. The lynchpin exchange has her suffering a seizure just after taking the man’s hand. She proceeds to judo-throw him over her shoulder ten feet. While seizing up. No, he’s not off-balance. Yes, this is vital to the plot. If it were reversed, and it were a 200+ pound man seizing up and throwing a girl over his shoulder teen feet, I’d still be calling bullshit, so it makes perfect sense that I’m equally incensed about it the other way around.

°°

And forcing it—particularly in this manner, in this case—just doesn’t work. Like, at all. It soured me on the ending, and a bit on the plot to this point. Which just had (I’ll point out) dropped another bombshell on us, which I was still working through, deciding if it made any more sense (it DID, but only just, not that that mattered for very long). I’m not saying that this was the intent, but it just struck me as lazy: you’ve written a thrilling and entertaining story; you dropped your big twist; and now see fit to ruin it with some uncooked scenario just so you wouldn’t have to rewrite a conclusion that actually makes sense.

Two weeks out, and I still find myself looking back on the tale: the immersion of the setting, the story; the way the tense atmosphere slowly devolves into horror and terror; the mystery that’s there to solve, that has you looking one way for so long and then suddenly opening your mind to a dozen new possibilities—and then I remember the ending. And it’s mostly soured.

TL;DR

If you happened to read the entire review—welcome to the end! If you didn’t, that’s okay too, I guess. But only one of you will understand just how hard it is for me to rate this book. I mean, you’ve seen my star-rating above, but that doesn’t tell the whole story. I thoroughly enjoyed this book—or around 90% of it. Around the 80% mark things started to get a little weird, but that’s to be expected with these horror titles. 9/10ths of the way down, Friend of the Devil was sailing towards an 8 star rating, with little that could derail its bright, bright future. But at the close, everything fell apart. An impossibility; a ridiculous moment that should’ve been laughed off and rewritten, but instead went down as a major plot-point, something the entire ending hinged on. And it soured everything for me. And yet… I guess I’m still going to recommend this. Maybe it won’t be as big an issue for you. Maybe you’ll be willing to overlook a few clichés, a few shallow characters, a few stumbles.

After skimming the other reviews of this, it seems I’m hardly alone in my disappointment. So, maybe… wait for it to go on sale. Or look for it at your local library. Or go in with an open mind, but temper your expectations.

The Harbor – by Katrine Engberg (Review)

Kørner & Werner #3

Mystery, Nordic Noir

Gallery/Scout Press; February 22, 2022

352 pages (ebook)
9hr 38m (audiobook)

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8 / 10 ✪

I was kindly granted an advance copy in exchange for an honest review. Many thanks to Scout/Gallery Books for the eARC! All opinions are my own.

He looked around and saw the knife that had stabbed Basil Hallward. He had cleaned it many times, till there was no stain left upon it. It was bright and glistened. As it had killed the painter, so it would kill the painter’s work, and all that that meant. It would kill the past, and when that was dead, he would be free.

So ends the first and only clue in the disappearance of fifteen year-old Oscar Dreyer-Hoff. As clues go, this one’s shit, but Anette Werner and Jeppe Kørner are used to much worse. Odds are the missing teen is no more than a runaway, but as he’s from an influential family—one used to kidnapping and threats before—the Copenhagen Police are taking it seriously. Thus the inclusion of detectives Kørner and Werner.

But as each hour passes, and the potential for finding the boy alive grows ever more slim, the case itself changes to match. Patterns form and fade, relationships appear and vanish, and the mindset of a trouble teen slowly begins to reveal itself. But rather than helping the case, these revelations instead push the search into murkier waters still.

A possible sexual relationship between Oscar’s brother Viktor and his only real friend, Iben. A family bed. Something shared between Oscar and his teacher. A banished sister, a middle child, a shared secret. Another disappearance. A love of boating, of the water. Everyone has something to hide, everyone has something to lose—though some more than others. Clues come and go—but which relate to the disappearance and which are just there to distract? Will Kørner and Werner be able to locate the missing teen while he yet lives, or will the inevitable finally come to pass?

—
‘ Eroticism has many faces. ‘
—

This was an intricate, murky case set on the Øresund between Zealand and Scania, between Copenhagen and Sweden. The Sound gives the whole book an overcast, grey feel—much like the cover itself. Though not all the case and its avenues take place or have anything to do with the waters, they certainly feel like the focus for the book.

I want to make this clear up front: I really enjoyed this one. The murky, grey, confusing feel to the case, with all the clues that may or may not relate, the leads that sped off on tangents or eventually wormed their way back to the heart of it all—it all worked quite well for me. And when everything came together in the end: oh, it was magnificent! The thing is, however, that when you have a story with so many false-starts, with so much deception, it doesn’t help to add other, less… related aspects to an already twisting tale.

While I enjoyed the initial release, the Tenant, I definitely liked the second book better due in no small part to its inclusion of the detectives’ lives. Anette and her baby; Jeppe and his search for love. Both main characters return in the Harbor and once again their personal lives take center stage, but this time it’s all about love. Jeppe and Sarah have taken their relationship to the next level (Sarah has introduced her boyfriend to her daughters, Jeppe has pretty much moved in with the three), but things could be going better. Anette is having problems of her own at home, as her husband Sven hasn’t appeared interested in her anymore. And so she’s been letting her mind wander at work, envisioning sex with all kinds—colleague or suspect alike. Jeppe’s best friend Johannes returns to play a bit part, and while I loved having him (after not seeing him at all in the Butterfly House), I would’ve liked even more from him still. Well, maybe next time. The thing I still cannot fathom is Esther de Laurenti’s (and Gregor’s) inclusion. I complained about it in Book #2—as it didn’t really feel tied to any part of the story, or the main characters within—and I’m going to roast it even more now. Esther, a literature major, is consulted briefly about the opening quote, which is apparently a passage by Oscar Wilde. Full stop. Nevertheless, despite being out of the story after this brief interlude, we continue to share her POVs. In a book of false-leads and tangents, where the story toes an ever-murky line, her inclusion does little other than to distract from an already confusing story, something that is as nonsensical as it is infuriating. “So, we’re going to take a break from this twisting, confusing, but immersive case to go check in on Esther, who really has nothing to do with anything.” While I love developing more backstory on the leads, visiting their lives and seeing their problems and how it all affects their jobs—I don’t understand checking in on someone who barely relates at all to the case, to the detectives, or to the story at all.

As with other Engberg mysteries, or some Nordic Noir, don’t expect a happy ending. Now, I’m not saying there isn’t one. Just that Nordic Noir is so-named for a reason. It’s not grimdark, but it’s not “and they all lived happily ever after”. I mean, there’s certainly a conclusion—which I quite liked, in fact—and it’s definitely enjoyable to the reader, as it ties up any loose ends quite nicely, just: it might not be the happiest. Think of it as “some of them lived, some were happy, and there was some measure of after”.

TL;DR

All in all, the Harbor is probably Katrine Engberg’s most ambitious mystery to date. It’s certainly the most intricate, thrilling, and entirely plausible one. Reality aside, not every mystery can end with a mountain of corpses and a serial killer behind bars. A murky, twisting tale set out over the Øresund and its isles in the Copenhagen harbor, the Harbor chooses an already dark and overcast setting to stage its latest tale, one that replaces a world of greys with that of blues instead. And while it delves even more into the lives of its characters than any release before it, the inclusion of previous characters and their lives—which don’t seem to relate to the case at all—is a mystifying choice, and one that holds the story back from being something truly special. Because at no time during your already twisting and intricate, highly immersive investigation should you take a break to visit someone who has nothing to do with anything, and talk for a while about their lives. This aside, I’d thoroughly recommend the Harbor, and I can’t wait to see what the future has in store for Kørner and Werner, and where the series goes from here!

Audio Note: Once again, I loved Graeme Malcolm’s narration! It brought the story to life and helped sell the characters not just as individuals, but as part of a whole, interconnected to each other and the world around them A great read, all around. Thoroughly recommended!

•

Review of The Tenant (Kørner & Werner #1)

Review of the Butterfly House (Kørner & Werner #2)

Stars and Bones – by Gareth L. Powell (Review)

Stars and Bones Universe #1

Scifi, Space Opera

Titan Books; February 15, 2022

352 pages (ebook)
8hr 28m (audiobook)

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Author Website

6.0 / 10 ✪

I was kindly granted an advance copy in exchange for an honest review. Many thanks to Titan Books for the ARC! All opinions are my own.

When worst came to worst, the Angel stepped in to save us. Not an actual Angel mind, but super advanced aliens that stepped in in humanity’s last hour and saved it from destruction. So, kinda an actual Angel. Something that saved humanity. Or, rather, saved the Earth from humanity.

Now, cast out upon the stars, humanity exists on a multitude of great Arkships, where everything is provided and no one is left behind—a true paradise. And so the fleet wanders, knowing that the eye of the Angels will forever remain on them, and knowing that they can never return to Earth.

Eryn is a scout pilot. Together, she and her ship, the Ferocious Ocelot, scout the edges of the Arkships’ path as they wander through space. When her sister Shay disappears while responding to an alien distress call, Eryn insists on being part of the crew to find her.

Candidate-623 is a lonely rock, but harbors something both terrifying and deadly. Something that might spell humanity’s doom should it reach the Arkships. When the crew is attacked, Eryn races to warn the fleet, all the while dreading whether or not this certain something might have followed her home…

—

“Holy shit,” she breathed, “You are not going to fucking believe this.”

And she was right, I didn’t. At least, not at first. Because high above the atmosphere, something vaster and older than the Earth had reached down and snatched every ICBM from the sky, every torpedo from the ocean, and every tank shell, mortar round, and bullet from every battlefield on the planet.

And is was not at all amused.

—

Man, this was a weird one.

First off, if you’re put off by language, LGBTQ+ representation, and/or terribly done romance—maybe skip this one, eh? Otherwise, read on.

It started out like a house on fire: an extraterrestrial attack right out of the gate that quickly transformed into a desperate race against time. That transformed into a… mystery? Whereupon suddenly introducing several new characters and plot-lines around the third- or halfway mark. The last third read a bit like the latest Star Wars movies, where they just ran with whatever thing first came to mind (despite it making little sense in the overall narrative) and made sure to add plenty of action sequences.

Beware spoilers ahead for the romance! If you want to avoid them just skip the next paragraph.

The romance was… cringeworthy. What happens between Eryn and Li isn’t so much a will-they-or-won’t-they as it is a why-is-something-going-on-i-hadn’t-noticed. What starts out as a one-night stand (or, a not-even one-night stand) in the face of a certain-death mission, slowly resolves into… nothing. There are a couple of kisses, interspersed by long gaps where Eryn looks at Li like a guest, but a stranger. Seriously, they talk only a handful of times—and it actually equates to anything meaningful once. And yet I’m supposed to believe that they’re madly in love by the end? That Eryn is so smitten with the person she routinely describes as a stranger that she actually says “I realized that I was always going to love her unconditionally and forever” at the end. Now I realize that some people can go head over heels damn quick but… were they reading the same book I was, or did I just miss something? Because this romance seems so forced it literally made me cringe, and gape when they so unexpectedly ended up in love.

In addition to a truly cringeworthy romance, the conclusion to the story was a bit of a blur. By which I mean confusing. I’m not going to get into it because of spoilers, but… I spent half of the time lost and the other half either experiencing deja vu or wondering how it’d possibly come to this point. But despite all odds when the end actually came, all my questions had been answered. As far as I could tell, all major threads had been tied up. It was extremely odd, but extremely impressive.

Yes, there was a talking cat, no, I don’t want to talk about it.

Despite it all, Stars and Bones wasn’t bad. It had a solid story, so long as you overlooked all the tangents, pseudo-parenting, and the romance (ye gods, don’t get me going on the romance again). A race against the clock as humanity faces extinction. Where Eryn must do everything she can to save the human race, despite the fact that all of it should be so, so far over her pay grade. From an action and adventure stand point: it was a decent read; there was a lot of both action and adventure. As an existential crisis: it wasn’t bad; it tackled several surprising issues like the nature of love and friendship, parenting, existence, and perseverance. As a mystery: it was crap; a bit like playing pin-the-tail while ignoring any and all hints or clues—you’re bound to get it eventually, monkeys and Shakespeare and all. As a book though… Stars and Bones was certainly a mixed bag. It had a lot of strong points, but some weak ones as well. And there was a lot to unpack.

I believe that was the biggest problem I had with Stars and Bones: its identity. This is simply a case of trying to do to much. In its bones, this was a Science Fiction/Space Opera. But with a little bit of thriller thrown in. Political thriller too. Romance, as well. Mystery. Adventure. Allegory for life. Philosophical endeavor.

TL;DR

There’s a lot to love about Stars and Bones, partly due to the fact that there’s just so much going on in it. Too much, I’d argue. A science fiction/space opera by nature, the story tries to hit up every single genre on the way from start to finish. Thriller. Romance. Mystery. Philosophy. Existentialism. The list goes on. And in the end, there was just too much going on. Stars and Bones couldn’t seem to make up its mind on what it wanted to be. And while it pulled some of these transitions off seamlessly, others it definitely didn’t. The mystery and romance, to start. But either way a number was done on the pacing; what started out as a house on fire quickly transformed to a barnburner, then an… allegory for life? A decent read, but one that I just never could get a handle on. I promise you—there’s a good story in here somewhere, even if I could never find it.

Audio Note
I suffered a few burnouts reading this. I started it only to lose interest fairly quickly. Part of this could be down to timing—early March is a busy time of year for me, then I got the flu immediately after. But then these both happened in the early part of the story, when it’s all action all the time in Eryn’s POV, and we’re just learning the fate of Earth in Haruki’s. Eventually, I picked it up as an audiobook and read it to fruition. Rebecca Norfolk did a great job—most of the time. While her reading of Eryn and most other POVs proved excellent, whenever she contrived to do an accent it… just sounded ridiculous. Frank was passable; Sheppard and Ginet were decidedly not. The AIs were night and day; the Ocelot was great, while any others were flat and emotionless, even when they seemed to be expressing emotion.

Curfew – by Jayne Cowie (Review)

Standalone

Mystery, Thriller, Dystopian

Berkley Publishing; March 22, 2022

320 pages (ebook)

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Author Instagram • Twitter

5.5 / 10 ✪

I was kindly granted an advance copy in exchange for an honest review. Many thanks to Berkley for the ARC! All opinions are my own.

Curfew takes place in a near-future Britain where women dominate the workforce, police, wealthy, important, and government. Where the gender pay gap is a thing of the past. Where motherhood opens doors rather than closing them. Where women are no longer afraid to walk the streets alone after dark, dress how they like, or have a few too many drinks while out with their friends.

A world where—from 7pm to 7am—all men are tagged and kept under a strict curfew.

But while the Curfew has fixed some problems, it has just exacerbated others.

Sarah is a single mother whose life started anew when her husband Greg was sent to prison for breaking curfew. After three-months inside, Sarah isn’t expecting a warm reunion—and doesn’t want one. If it were up to her, neither she nor her daughter would ever see Greg again. Though her daughter Cass doesn’t see it that way. She misses her father terribly—and blames her mother for his arrest. And she hates living in a world that restricts her best friend, Billy, simply because he’s a boy.

Helen works as a teacher at a local school. Secretly desperate for a baby, she’s applied for a Co-hab certificate for her and her boyfriend, Tom, and is terrified they won’t get it. All her friends hate Tom, but to Helen, he’s the most perfect man in the world.

But nothing is ever perfect, and perfection never lasts. The town is shocked when a woman is found violently murdered in the middle of town. Evidence suggests that she died late at night—long after Curfew came into effect. And yet, is Curfew as foolproof a system as they all think, or has a man somehow managed to trick the system and kill one of their own, again?

—

” Women kill in self-defense, or because they have psychiatric problems. Men kill because they can. “

—

Curfew was an interesting read for a number of reasons, but there were a fair amount of issues I had with it as well. I’m a little worried that my review will come off as a bit misogynistic, or dismissive of domestic violence, or how some men treat some women. So let me just say up front that domestic violence and crimes committed by men against women are horrible. OBVIOUSLY horrible. What I objected to was the author’s view of how certain laws would completely change the world. Take out the… shall we say “most dangerous predator” in any system, and a new one is going to rise to fill the gap.

First off (and I know how this is going to sound), I found it a bit misandristic (that’s the opposite of misogynistic, FYI). I mean, women being full equal members of society sounds amazing, but then, equality isn’t really equality at all. Now men are treated as second-class citizens. The pay gap swings the other way. Little boys are commonly aborted before birth while girls are seen as an incredible blessing. I would’ve liked to see more on this side of things, but it really wasn’t addressed. A male perspective would’ve helped us see the story from another angle, and perhaps opened up a more interesting debate on the subject. Furthermore, non-binary genders weren’t addressed at all. By itself though, the premise is definitely intriguing: a society that favors the lives of women over men—in opposition to so many of the historical patriarchies and patrilineal kinship systems favored by cultures around the world. Though it’s interesting to see what might’ve happened if a historically patriarchy flipped to a matriarchy, I would’ve liked to see a bit more done on the history of it. As it was there was mention of one particular murder, a few vague references that aren’t well explored—and nothing else. I realize that some crime—particularly violence against women would be down during the 12 hours that men are under curfew—would be down, but it certainly wouldn’t eliminate most crime. Likewise, I think the idea that murder was “a thing of the past” was a bit ridiculous. Because of course, not only men kill people.

The story itself goes along pretty quick. While I got more and more disillusioned by the male characters—well, by most of the characters—the farther we got into it, Curfew was never a very difficult story to read. It flows quite well, and quite quickly. I think that I finished it in a couple of days. But it wasn’t so much the whodunnit that kept me reading, exactly—more on that later.

Throughout the story, we are confronted by several asshole male characters, as well as a few grey-area ones. The further and further we move into the story itself, the less room for interpretation there is. The male characters are one-sided, have no depth, no development, and are either detestable and forgettable. The female characters honestly aren’t that much better—with only a couple showing any sort of depth or growth. The ending is more than a bit bleak, to be honest. The story itself boils down to the conclusion that most men are just evil—an illation that the author doubles-down on come the her post-note, to the point that I wasn’t actually sure whether she believed it or not. Really. It just… it sure sounded like she did. Even after glancing at the author links above, I still couldn’t tell whether or not she ACTUALLY believed that men are just evil, and to be blamed for all the world’s problems. Which is… worrying.

For so much of the text, especially later on, Curfew boils down to an “Us vs. Them” (men vs. women). It is actually quite the motivator in the big reveal, though I won’t reveal how. It’s also something I found stupid—a poor attempt at tying up a loose end. The murder case itself I found to be clumsy. The police aren’t terribly competent. Or professional. For the most part they bumble around trying to pin the murder on one suspect after another, without paying much attention to, like, evidence. They seem convinced that the Curfew is completely infallible—except for one lone officer, Pamela, who’s on the brink of retirement.

My biggest issue with the mystery is with the body itself. The story takes place in two parts: a flashback starting three weeks earlier and including several POVs (which takes up most of the story), and a present day (and intermittent chapter) following a single POV, Pamela. One of the most important aspects of a whodunnit is to not give too much away at any given point. You really want to parcel information out at increments, let the reader guess and try to puzzle it out for themselves. But Curfew provides contrasting information up front, and it all gets a little muddied come the end. Early on a body is discovered, and it’s noted that the fingerprints of the victim don’t match any in their database. The problem is that all the main characters in Curfew (save one) are police, government employees, or teachers—all professions which require fingerprinting. Which meant that the corpse could really only be one person. Only that it couldn’t be that simple. And so by the time the Big Reveal eventually came, I’d been assuming that the author was going to completely ignore the whole fingerprint thing from earlier. It doesn’t count as a plot twist if you just provide false information up front.

Oh—and this is just a note—at one point a detective visits a woman’s cohab flat and judges that a gaming console is out of place in her place and must therefore belong to man. Thus perpetuating the stereotype that women don’t play video games. Which is ridiculous.

TL;DR

Curfew raises many good points about sexual assault, domestic violence, and unequal pay. But so much of it comes across as misandristic that it’s hard for me to fully untangle the two. Honestly, I’m not convinced that the author doesn’t actually believe that most men are evil. The story itself runs along quite nicely, though there are more than a few holes in the plot and hiccups in the story. It’s a fairly quick read, but profoundly disappointed me with the execution of the mystery and the bleakness of the message such that I never felt that I really enjoyed it. The history and lore could’ve done with a bit of expanding, as I never really felt that enough had been done to steer humanity down this path. And maybe most importantly: I’m not saying that men aren’t assholes. Some of them are, definitely. I’m just saying some people are assholes—there’s no need to be so restrictive about it.