Lieutenant Joel Gilmore is part of a multi-species space observation team stationed in a distant solar system, who find themselves attacked by the very aliens they were supposed to be watching. Now Joel and his allies, the enigmatic Rusties, explore the parameters of trust in a lethal confrontation with a deeply alien third species: one with a nasty predilection for mass murder on a planetary scale.

This book was marketed as a YA science fiction, but I had no trouble getting fully engrossed in the story which started with a bang and kept going right to the end, despite the fact that I hadn't read the first book, 'His Majesty's Starship'. The story is told in multiple viewpoint - and Jeapes joins that select handful of science fiction writers who are brave enough to have a serious stab at writing from an alien point of view. In fact, there are two major alien species in this adventure. The vicious variety with teeth, talons and a propensity for ripping apart anyone who seriously upsets them - and the Rusties, who have formed a coalition with humans. So, the question has to be - does Jeapes pull it off?

As far as the bad guys, known as Xenocides, are concerned, the depiction is excellent. We get a really good slice of their political and cultural life without any info-dumps silting up the narrative pace, which is always a lot harder to achieve than it looks. There is even some humour in there and I particularly enjoyed Oomoing, who had the job of evaluating the captured human. The twist near the end of the story was one I didn't see coming and thoroughly enjoyed. By the end of the novel, I had a really good sense of what they looked like and how their society ran. But the overall impression of how the other species - the First Breed - operated, their appearance, and their relationship with the humans was a lot less sharp.

As far as the main human story running through the book, Joel makes a solidly convincing hero as someone who reacts quickly and selflessly when the unthinkable happened - and then finds himself up to his neck in trouble as a consequence. He manages to care about issues like honour, duty and loyalty without coming across as some lantern-jawed dummy, which also demonstrates Jeapes' skill as an able, technically gifted writer. His relationship with Boon Round, the First Breed also caught up alongside him, is nicely sharp.

The ending is well executed, with all the lose threads across all three main species satisfyingly tied up. Overall, this slickly convincing multi-species adventure story is a really good read - and I'm going to be looking out for more of Jeapes' writing.

I'll be honest, I've tended to avoid Swords and Sorcery tales - especially those set at sea. Having in a former life owned a yacht, I have very limited tolerance for tales that get the sailing wrong... So when my husband kept on recommending this book, I rather grumpily decided that I'd better read a couple of chapters to shut him up before returning to the next cool space opera beckoning. And then became hooked...

Twenty years ago, a barmaid in a harbour town fell for a young sailor who turned pirate to make his fortune. But what truly became of Black Edward Tew remains a mystery - one that has just fallen into the lap of freelance sword jockey Eddie LaCrosse
For years, Eddie has kept his office above Angelina's tavern, so when Angelina herself asks him to find out what happened to the dashing pirate who stole her heart, he can hardly say no - even though the trail is two decades old. Some say Black Edward and his ship, The Bloody Angel, went to the bottom of the sea, taking with it a king's fortune in treasure. Others say he rules a wealthy, secret pirate kingdom. And a few believe he still sails under a ghostly flag with a crew of the damned.

To find the truth, and earn his twenty-five gold pieces a day, Eddie must go to sea in the company of a sexy former pirate queen in search of the infamous Black Edward Tew... and his even more legendary treasure.

If that sounds like a really cracking plot with plenty of opportunity for swashbuckling characters, a hatful of exciting adventures, plenty of humour and more than a slice of real heartbreak and horror - you'd be right. Bledsoe manages to weave all of that into this accomplished story. Told in first person viewpoint, Eddie LaCrosse is an excellent protagonist whose skill and experience take him into all sorts of unexpected and dangerous settings - but whose intelligent and humorous asides give the book a deft, light touch that brings to mind The Black Pearl, before the Pirates of the Caribbean franchise started taking itself too seriously. In fact, I'd love to see someone turn this book into a film - the twists and turns in the plot would make a superb screenplay and there are a cast of strong, eccentric characters that leap off the page.

As for the final showdown - I was fully expecting it to be something of a disappointment after all the excitement we'd encountered earlier and couldn't see how Bledsoe would manage to equal or better it. He did. It is terrible and poignant and shocking - and I know that along with a small handful of books, this will be one that will stick in my memory.

This interesting, near-future technology-based novel initially came out in 2009 in serial form as an ebook, before being released by Voyager as a printed version. I've been interested to read a variety of responses to the book, many of them hostile...

Perry and Lester invent things. All sorts of things. Seashell robots that can make toast, Boogie Woogie Elmo dolls that drive cars. They also invent an entirely new economic system. `New Work' is a New Deal for the technological era, and together Perry and Lester transform the country, with journalist Suzanne Church there to document their progress.

For the record, that's half the blurb published on the inside of the cover - and the reason why I'm not continuing any further, is that the next paragraph proceeds to give away at least half the major plot points of the book. Which is the reason, I reckon, that one of the recurring complaints I've encountered about this book is that the story is slow and predictable. If the reviewers knew in advance what was coming up, no wonder they felt the book dragged. That's the only explanation I can come up with - because although it's a long book, at no time did I find my attention wandering. Doctorow's gleeful enthusiasm for the new toys he's envisioned for the near future didn't stop him paying attention to providing an entertaining storyline and likeable, interesting characters. I was also impressed at the clarity of the writing - at no point was I scratching my head or having to backtrack and reread any sections in order to understand exactly what all these cool, techie gismos did. And while I enjoy browsing through the New Scientist, I'm no science specialist.

Doctorow has all sorts of interesting observations to make in this thoughtful look at the near future and how technology may shape the outlook for sections of American society. I thoroughly enjoyed the story of Lester, Perry and Suzanne and found the epilogue poignant and memorable.

Tricia Sullivan is a wonderful talent - I was absolutely blown away by 'Dreaming of Smoke' and 'Maul', but am disappointed - and shocked - to learn that only her latest book, Lightborn, is still in print. Hopefully, some farsighted epublishing company will be importuning her about releasing her back catalogue very soon.

Lightborn is a revolutionary new technology that has transformed the modern world. Better known as `shine', it is the ultimate in education, self-improvement and entertainment - beamed directly into the mind of anyone who can meet the asking price. But what do you do if the shine in question has a mind of its own...?

Yipee! At last - a blurb that actually does what it should - give the reader a brief insight into the book's theme and subject matter WITHOUT blurting out a whole tranche of spoilers along the way. Gold star for Orbit.

We follow the fortunes of two youngsters, Roksana and Xavia as they struggle to cope when life in the Arizona town of La Sombre falls apart as the adults all go mad. This being Sullivan, don't expect classic dystopian, `Oh my God, the world is falling apart, isn't this awful?' What marks her out as such a joy to read, is that she is an author who assumes her readers are intelligent enough to keep up without having everything spelt out. So as we watch both Roksana and Xavia's characters mature throughout the catastrophe and follow their personal griefs and coping strategies, their personal stories steadily unfold. They are both complex and interestingly three-dimensional - and Sullivan isn't afraid to show their less likeable traits.

The role of parenthood and caring is examined as the children are forced to become responsible for their mentally damaged parents - and this being a Sullivan novel, there are no slick, tailor-made answers served up. Roksana's father, a shine guru, is an inadequate parent who refuses to engage with her on an emotional level, despite his ability to provide protection against the lightborn. As people battle to rebuild their lives after the initial catastrophe, Sullivan also looks at what constitutes a functioning community by providing two quite distinct models - those survivors in La Sombre scraping together a functioning existence from the wreckage, while also dodging the Government forces; and the community that the local Indian tribe have fostered on a ranch in the wilderness, as far away from the influence of the shine that they can get.

I am conscious that in teasing out these strands, I may have given the impression that the actual storyline is a worthy attempt to dissect these issues - and Lightborn is nothing of the sort. The books starts with a bang, whisking the reader immediately into the narrative and as there is no limited omniscient info-dump silting up the action, you need to pay attention, because this is a fast-paced book. The worldbuilding is absolutely fit for purpose - and if we would like more insights to the overarching political role of the near-future America in which this all plays out, then we fill in the blanks ourselves. As Xavier and Roksana aren't concerned with how American interests mesh with the rest of the world, this isn't an aspect that figures in the novel - and that's fine with me.

Her writing, as ever, is wonderful. Dialogue is pitch perfect and the passages describing the sentient lightborn as it interacts with the human brain is brutal and beautiful. As you may have gathered, I highly rate this book. Any niggles? Nope. Not a single one. But don't take my word for it - go find a copy and read it yourself.

This was a poor product that is not fot for purp. But for £4 what do you expect. Two Words.

This is set in the same world - and the same backdrop - as Griffin's highly successful Midnight Mayor series, featuring Matthew Swift as her conflicted and very powerful protagonist and is definitely one for the adults. Sammy the Elbow, the world's second best shaman, sprinkles his dialogue with language almost as foul as his smell...

This book is written in multiple viewpoint, with no first person narrative, so we get a ringside seat to witness the struggles of Rhys, a druid forced to shelter from Nature due to his chronic hay fever; Gretel the troll, who wants to cook; Sally the banshee, who writes everything down on a whiteboard so that her magically-enhanced voice doesn't drive men mad; Kevin, the vampire who has major issues with blood - along with any other fluids that may pose a risk of infection... Even Matthew Swift, the Midnight Mayor isn't particularly effective - his specialty being to blow things up in a messy destructive manner, whereas this job requires finesse. I've enjoyed all the Midnight Mayor books and come to admire Griffin's writing talent - however my misgiving was that with such a very powerful main character, the forces ranged against him also had to be equally huge, or there was no real plot. But, the motley crew surrounding Sharon certainly don't fall into that category.
I expected an action-packed plot wound full of tension and vivid descriptions of some of the less wholesome parts of London, which I certainly got - but what was a delightful surprise were the laugh-aloud moments. And this book is full of them. Griffin's humour is pitch-perfect and a wonderful counterpoint to the full-on action and pathos. A book that leaves me with a lump in my throat while making me laugh always has a special place in my heart - it doesn't happen all that often. Matt Haig's 'The Radleys' was the last time I read one of these rare novels...

And if Griffin's descriptions leap off the page, then her dialogue is a joy - pin-sharp, funny and perceptive. With such a strong cast of interesting characters, Sharon's slightly desperate flailings to discover just exactly what she should be doing could have been completely eclipsed by the likes of Rhys and Kevin. Yet Griffin avoids that pitfall with the same deftness that she handles the issue of how to neutralise a magically potent protagonist such as Matthew Swift.

Her simmering anger at social injustice that produced the King of Rats, the tribe and the Bag Lady is still apparent in Griffin's character, Greydawn. As for the ending, it was beautifully handled - both satisfying and poignant. All in all, while Griffin's books have always been excellent, Stray Souls is outstanding and the best urban fantasy book I've read this year.

This collection of four standalone stories, with a foreword by Alistair Reynolds, features some of characters from Fenn's debut novel, Principles of Angels. It isn't a surprise that someone has jumped at the opportunity to publish further stories in this fascinating world, where the Angels are augmented female assassins principally employed to kill politicians that the electorate have judged to be inadequate. One of the ironies in Fenn's world is that the Angels are taken from the feral underclass who eke out a living on the underside of the floating Kesh City, most of whom are far too busy trying to survive to bother with voting...

I read 'Principles of Angels' after meeting Jaine Fenn at Bristolcon last year and while I enjoyed the story, it is her world that has lodged in my head ever since. Her clean, unfussy writing style belies the layered intricacy of her worldbuilding, where her protagonists are completely ringfenced by their extraordinary environment which Fenn manages to depict as entirely normal. It's a neat trick to pull off and a whole lot harder than Fenn makes it look. The slightest sense of flourish by the author immediately undermines the gritty edge of reality confronting the characters.

This collection can be read without having ever picked up a Jaine Fenn book - in fact provides an excellent introduction to Fenn's writing and the world.

Collateral Damage - When Vanna Agriet accidentally spills her drink over an Angel it could spell death, but instead it leads to a rather peculiar friendship. This story provides an insight into the life of an Angel, and their unique role within society is explored from an enjoyably oblique angle, compared to the political machinations that drove the plot in 'Principles of Angels'. I particularly enjoyed the twist at the end.

Death on Elsewhere Street - The downsider Geal hopes for a better life topside, only to find herself embroiled in a `removal' by the Angel Thiera. This is another story that explores the role of Angels - and what the consequences of becoming society's official assassins can be for those involved. I found it all the more powerful that it was told from the viewpoint of someone else caught up in the action.

Angel Dust - Downside, Isha's brother Rakul brings a little black box home with him, and sets Isha on a journey that takes her to a meeting with the most powerful man in Kesh City. This story is the one in the collection that highlights the grim conditions in Downside as Isha struggles to deal with the fallout when her brother becomes embroiled in one of the gangs. I particularly enjoyed the incident where Isha narrowly avoids death when she's drawn to the ornamental fountain playing Topside, only to receive an urgent warning that it is poisoned to prevent citizens from drinking free water...

The Three Temptations of Larnia Mier - Larnia Mier, a talented Topside musician and instructor, is injured after witnessing a removal first-hand. As her abilities diminish, new possibilities open up. This is the odd one out. Larnia Mier comes from the privileged part of Kesh City - Topside. No gritted, giddying journeys for her to gather sufficient water, hopping over holes in the walkways that could plunge you to your death...

The other interesting difference with this story is that it is told in third person point of view, whereas the others are all narrated in first person viewpoint. Yet, it's my favourite... I'm still trying to figure out why - I'm a sucker for gutsy heroines from hard backgrounds and first person pov is always the one I'm attracted to, both as writer and reader. I found her fascinating in 'Principles of Angels', too. Fenn has her brittle, solitary personality absolutely nailed, and I think she leaps off the page. I also very much enjoyed the ending - initially, I figured this was going somewhere more predictable and less tricky and hats off to Fenn for giving us this less tidy, yet far more convincing conclusion to this story.

As Reynolds mentions in the Foreword, short story writing is demanding in ways that novel writing isn't, and in order to produce an anthology of successful short stories takes a high degree of writing skill. Fenn's 'Downside Girls' not only is a great addition to her list of published books, but also demonstrates her talent.

I met Jaine Fenn at Bristolcon, where she was the sole female science fiction writer speaking on the various panels. I had a chance to chat to her during the evening and made a mental note to get hold of her writing. I'm very glad I did, as her debut novel on my Kindle made a long train journey zip by in a blur of excitement and action.

So... this floating city with the privileged living a vastly better life than the underclass who - literally - struggle for survival under their feet - is it convincing and does it rise above the inevitable clichéd feel of that description? Yes - in my opinion it certainly does. And I've been startled to read some really unpleasant, sneering reviews about this book. What places it outside the norm for this genre is that Principles of Angels is completely character-driven. Perhaps the omission of a limited omniscient info-dump is perplexing some of those reviewing the book. Well, it's fine with me - I happen to think one of the reasons why Fantasy is currently trampling Science Fiction underfoot, is that the majority of best-selling Fantasy authors write punchy, character-led stories which readers find accessible and engrossing. And a large number of Science Fiction writers don't...

Fenn drops her readers right into the middle of the action in Taro's viewpoint as he battles for his life - his character sings off the pages from the start and continues to sparkle right through the book. He survives as a prostitute and while Fenn doesn't flinch from showing us the seamy underbelly of such a trade, at no time does she slide into gratuitous detail. Overall, I felt the world-building was strong and convincing - we see slices of Khesh City from both above and below and I particularly liked Taro's disorientation when he reaches Topside. The other detail in this book that I appreciated was the dialogue - complete with appropriate slang. Stupidity or absentmindedness (lethal when negotiating hanging walkways with holes or climbing nets) is known as being gappy; in comparison anything commendable is bolted.

The other main protagonist is off-world visitor, Elarn, who is on an unexpected singing tour. Her character is far more opaque - though it rapidly becomes clear that her tour is a cover for another mission. Khesh City is further fleshed out as we get to experience it through Elarn's viewpoint as a newcomer with access to all the privilige and luxury the City has to offer. However, her plans quickly go awry when she encounters charismatic politician Salik Vidoran.

The pace sweeps onward from the first page and gets ever faster as we reach the climactic ending, which more or less ties everything up while leaving a couple of major issues dangling for the subsequent books in the series. Which means I've more opportunities to visit Fenn's rich, engrossing world. Yay!

I'll come clean - steampunk isn't my all-time favourite Fantasy genre. However, Dane doesn't depict this particular slice of English history as any rose-tinted version of the burgeoning brutality of the Industrial Revolution - it is all shown in grubby detail with a reasonably clear-sighted view of just what was true the cost of all those steam gismos. Air pollution, dying vegetation and dirt, with a plummeting life expectancy for the poor souls trapped in English cities. Dane even describes a gloriously grandiose scheme to blow the toxic smog engulfing London out to sea.

But Dane gives herself an even greater challenge - Cyrus Darian is an anti-hero. Greedy, selfish and ambitious, his most constant companion is a fallen angel. This is tricky to really pull off successfully. Joe Abercrombie's crippled torturer, Inquisitor Glokta, in his First Law series is the most convincing anti-hero I've encountered to date. But he is just one amongst a cast of strong, if flawed protagonists. Dane has chosen to construct the whole novel around Darian - so if we are too disgusted with his antics, there is nowhere else to go. We drop the book and find something else to read. Being the shallow, old fashioned sort of reader who enjoys rooting for the main protagonist, I was initially concerned that I wouldn't want to bond with Darian - particularly as Dane chooses to dot around Darian's timeline in the opening scenes. Personally, for me, this is the least successful part of the book. If I hadn't already met and liked the author at Bristolcon, I may have abandoned the book right at the beginning and for those who are a bit underwhelmed at this patchy beginning, my advice is - persevere. It gets better. A lot better.

Because Dane manages to depict Darian as a thorough-going villain with a charismatic streak. And at no point did I feel that she flinched or side-stepped the harder or trickier aspects of this. So we are confronted with a main character who consistently doesn't behave all that well... It could have all been a rather grim read, if the overall tone wasn't briskly breezy with some nicely humorous touches - which isn't to say that there aren't also some genuinely shocking moments. What befalls Athena had my jaw dropping somewhat and I'm still slightly uncomfortable at that particular plotline - especially as we didn't ever get to the bottom of who was exactly responsible for drugging her. However, it further establishes that Dane isn't afraid to take risks as an author - while being capable of pulling them off.

Overall, this is a thoroughly accomplished, riveting read that certainly stands out from the crowd. If it is the start of a series, I'll be looking out for the next instalment - and Dane's other work. If it is as good as this, it'll be worth it.

This winner of the 2010 Costa Biography Award was fervently recommended by my sister-in-law, so I decided to give it a try - although to be honest, the blurb didn't fill me with enthusiasm.

In my humble opinion, the blurb doesn't do the book justice. However, I have a fair amount of sympathy with the publishers. How do you explain or sum up this story that spans three generations of a family caught right in the middle of the most turbulent events of the last two centuries? For de Waal, a noted potter in his own right, just happens to belong to one of the major Jewish banking families who operated out of Vienna, Paris and London at the height of their powers. Fabulously wealthy and highly influential, Charles Ephrussi, the younger son who didn't go into the family banking business, collected and commissioned artworks from the likes of Manet, Degas and Monet. It is this section of the book that really sings off the page as de Waal is clearly entranced by Charles, both as an art collector and person. He charts Charles' life and his collecting habit - including his long-term affair with Louise Cahen d'Anvers, until his collection of netsuke is given as a wedding present to his cousin, Viktor and his beautiful young wife, Emmy.

The special cabinet, known as a vitrine, that houses this collection ends up in the corner of Emmy's dressing room and these small, valuable Japanese pieces become the playthings of the Emmy's children. de Waal is particularly good at describing objects - not just their appearance, but their feel and quality along with the emotions they engender. He produces slices of the family history as Vienna is rocked by a series of world-shaking events.

However, the middle part of the book is the least satisfactory. While we get tantalising details of Emmy's beauty and fashion sense, the candour he displays about Charles' life is lacking. There is a sense that he has edited swathes of detail out of his great-grandparent's lives. His grandmother, Elizabeth, clearly a remarkable woman, is also depicted with a frustrating amount of information omitted. Her persistent refusal to languish in depressed misery in England when the Nazi looting of her family home is airbrushed out of German history by an insultingly low offer of compensation had me initially convinced that she would be a major protagonist in this amazing story. She isn't.

That honour goes to Uncle Iggie, another resourceful and remarkable member of the family, who becomes the custodian of the netsuke and finally takes them with him when he settles in Japan in the mid 1950's. Once more, the narrative picks up and becomes rich with detail and anecdotes as the painful subject of World War II recedes, and de Waal recounts his uncles life and times.

So, given the sketchiness of some of the most catastrophic events in the family's history - does de Waal do justice to his family's unique and remarkable story? The answer has to be - a qualified yes. Using a collection of objects as the nucleus of the narrative was inspired and probably made it possible to consider recounting the trauma caused by the Nazi's aggression and the vicious anti-Sematic comments and open prejudice that winds a dark thread through this account. Overall, though, this book is a testament to the sheer resilience and toughness of a family who have managed to not only endure being ripped apart, stripped of all their property and evicted from their country of birth - but thrive. Along with their collection of Japanese figures.