Tag Archives: fantasy

Reviews: Red Sonja

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Red Sonja,
Directed by MJ Bassett,
Starring Matilda Lutz, Wallis Day, Robert Sheehan, Luca Pasqualino, Michael Bisping, Martyn Ford, Rhona Mitra

I really wasn’t sure what to expect with this latest take on the iconic, flame-hared warrior woman. Let’s face it, Red Sonja is a much-loved character; since Roy Thomas and the legendary Barry Windsor-Smith created her for Marvel Comics (inspired by Robert E Howard, of course) back in the 1970s, she has undergone many variations and reboots in film, but mostly in comics and prose. But despite the large fan-base over decades, there’s a problem with how to depict her – that “chain mail bikini” may be iconic, and yes, very sexy, but it does come across as eye-candy for fan service, just another example of “the male gaze”, but at the same time she is also a powerful female figure, not just eye-candy.

It’s a problem with this kind of character – Xena had the same problem, if the character looks too visually sexy, does it cheapen them, or are they allowed to be both powerful women and sexually attractive at the same time? Numerous other female action figures are often drawn into the same debate, which is long and complex and is a bit outside the scope of a simple film review, but I think is also worth bearing in mind whenever considering a character like this (also worth considering how we rarely have these discussions about male action figures, which speaks volumes). I’d also note that, like the aforementioned Xena (a show I loved, not least for its dynamic between the two female leads), Sonja also boasts a significant female fan-base too, not least acclaimed comics scribe Gail Simone, who has written the character herself.

Okay, moving on from those considerations, let’s have a wee look at the film. Here we get early scenes of a very young Sonja’s village, an almost idyllic, peaceful, nature goddess worshipping community in the deep forest, being savagely attacked by a barbarian warlord. The young girl escapes, barely, but loses everyone in the process, spending years growing up in the forest alone, seeking any remnants of her people, her only companion a beloved horse.

We discover later that the warlord was in turn overthrown by a former slave he captured on one of those raids, a young lad who found half of a secret book of knowledge from that raid, and with a whip-smart brain, used it to free himself and then overthrow the warlord before installing himself as emperor, expanding his lands using new technology inspired by the texts he decoded, now searching for the remaining part of the book, which will bring him into conflict with Sonja.

The result is fairly predictable, but enjoyable for those of us who have waited ages for a swords and barbarians fantasy flick (I think Spine of Night, the rotoscope animated film a couple of years ago was the last one I enjoyed – you can read that review here). But despite being fairly straightforward on the narrative front, there are a few nice twists and turns thrown in there, using flashbacks to flesh out present day motivations, which means neither the hero or the villain come across as too one-dimensional. Sonja (Matilda Lutz) is powerful and angry, yes, but she’s no superhuman, she is not unstoppable.

Lutz gives her a melancholy and vulnerability that deepens her, while Sheehan’s emperor Draygan is not a simple power-hungry maniac, he genuinely believes he is building a better world, and we later learn some interesting facts about his youth that drove him into this direction. Even Draygan’s partner, the formidable Annisia (Wallis Day), a platinum-haired warrior woman, is given some depth, a woman literally haunted by the faces and voices of those she has killed, making her more than simply a foil to Sonja.

There are problems – apart from being a bit predictable, other than some of those interesting character twists, the lack of budget does show in places. When we have an emperor shouting about ruling the world, we really need something much bigger and more expansive, while this feels more like a small-scale war by a local warlord than a world-conquering empire, and it also feels like some of the blood and gore levels have been dialled down a bit, perhaps to get a lower censor rating. That said, if the makers didn’t get the budget they really needed, that’s not really their fault, so I’m minded to forgive that weakness, and it looks very much like the main characters really do throw themselves into the action scenes they have, while making both the heroes and villains less straight and more nuanced makes it much more emotionally interesting.

Even that issue of eye-candy is addressed in a scene in a gladiator-style school where a captive Sonja is handed the metallic garments by a leering armourer, who is clearly enjoying the idea of her being a sexual spectacle for the crowd – but even this character also gets a little more depth later, when Sonja makes him cry because “she’s the first one to remember his name”, which is a tiny moment, but a nice touch.

In conclusion, yes, plenty of problems, not least it really needed much more budget to realise itself a bit better, and perhaps a less predictable narrative, but I enjoyed the way Lutz managed to give us a Sonja who is both vulnerable, emotionally, and also at the same time powerful and vengeful, but without being some simple, unstoppable killing machine (she can, and does fail at some points). Sheehan looked like he was really enjoying his role as the emperor, and later revelations about his origins take the character – and also Sonja – in a different direction than I thought, which I appreciated. So, yes, problems, but overall it’s a guilty-pleasure, barbarian sword and action flick – it won’t set the critics or awards panels alight, but for those of us who enjoy that kind of flick, it’s a fun-enough, bucket of popcorn watch.

Red Sonja is distributed by Signature Entertainment, and available to stream on Prime from December 22nd

This review was originally penned for Live For Films

Reviews: The Pearl Comb

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The Pearl Comb,
Directed by Ali Cook,
Starring Beatie Edney, Clara Paget, Ali Cook, Simon Armstrong

Writer, director and actor Ali Cook’s intriguing short film arrives with a most-impressive list of awards garnered at forty international film festivals, including the Méliès d’Argent, as well as qualifying for the 2026 Academy Awards. Set in 1893, on the rugged coastline of the West Country, we see a middle-aged lady, Betty Lutey (Highlander’s Beatie Edney), fussing nervously with her hair and clothing as she awaits a visitor at her remote, coastal cottage.

It transpires her visitor is a young man, a doctor, who also happens to be related to her. Betty, it appears, has acquired something of a local reputation as a folk-healer, the sort of thing not unknown in rural areas of the period, and which would likely have remained just a local story, until it is widely reported that she cured a young lad of tuberculosis. The medical establishment (which in Victorian England means a lot of influential, wealthy, white, middle and upper class men, with, let us say, a pretty guarded interest in being the gatekeepers in regards to curing people), have sent Doctor Gregory Lutey (Ali Cook) to investigate.

The tale that Beatie spins is a fantastical one – she claims she didn’t so much cure the case of tuberculosis, at least not in the normal medical sense, she “healed” it, using her gift, which in turn was a gift from her late husband, Lutey (Simon Armstrong). Upright, Victorian medical man that he is, Gregory is rather sceptical of this claim. Betty recounts to him a tale of her late husband, how Lutey had gone foraging for medicinal plants but not come home one evening. Assuming he was drunk on local home-brew, she tracks him down a day later, sleeping in a barn, surrounded by bottles, but claiming not to have touched a drop. Instead he seems badly shaken, and recounts an incredible tale to his disbelieving wife.

Old Lutey tells her of hearing a strange singing from the rocky shoreline as he was foraging, and on following the sound finds the remarkable sight of a mermaid (Clara Paget suitably ethereal), sitting by a rock pool, fish tail and all. After being initially startled by the appearance of a human, the mermaid begins to speak to him, and then requests his help, offering gifts and wishes in return, such a riches, which she assumes all men want, but Lutey is happy to simply help her and doesn’t care about vast wealth. In fact the only thing that he can think of he’d like as a wish, is the ability to heal people of illness, especially his wife.

Of course, as any of us know, offers of services and wishes from any residents of the Otherworld should always be taken with caution – they always come attached with terms, not all of which are good for you. And that’s assuming he’s telling the truth – Betty is, understandably, not convinced, until he produces the pearl comb from the mermaid’s hair and demonstrates his healing ability.

At this point, Gregory is not exactly taken with this story – a fine yarn for the grandchildren, of course, but not a serious explanation for her supposed healing abilities that he, as a doctor, chosen to investigate this case, can accept seriously, even though he is related to her. In fact he’s quite dismissive of her, and of women in general, with all the scorn of a patriarchal Victorian man, sure of his place in the world and acknowledging nothing that science cannot explain (and certainly sure that there are strict places for what women can and cannot do).

While interesting, and very well-made, this could easily have moved into a predictable third act, but instead – well, no spoilers, of course, but suffice to say Cook brought together a satisfying conclusion, drawing on aspects of science, of folklore, and drawing inspiration from real history (such as the early women medical pioneers who had to fight to be recognised). The Pearl Comb packs a whole lot into such a short run time – it sets up its premise swiftly but assuredly, introduces its characters and then mixes elements of drama, horror and fantasy into a piece with some social commentary thrown in too, all in about twenty minutes – impressive.

This review was originally penned for Live For Films

EIFF 2025 – The Toxic Avenger

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More from this year’s Edinburgh International Film Festival:

EIFF 2025 – The Toxic Avenger,
Directed by Macon Blair
Staring Peter Dinklage, Kevin Bacon, Jacob Tremblay, Taylour Paige, Luisa Guerrero, David Yow, Annette Badland Elijah Wood, Julia Davis

We live in an age of constant reboots – or “it’s not a reboot, it’s a re-imagining!” – but I must admit I was very surprised when I first heard that a new version of 1980s schlock classic The Toxic Avenger was in the works. Like many of you reading this, I suspect, I grew up raiding the video rental store at the weekend (ah, the pre-internet, pre-streaming days!), and my chums and I delighted in the “so bad it’s good style of film”. Indeed something I still delight in (see my recent review of the Japanese flick Hot Spring Shark Attack here!).

So I have history with Troma’s oeuvre, and Lloyd Kaufman is up there for me as an even schlockier (in the good way!) Roger Corman. But much as I loved Toxie, I was still surprised – this didn’t strike me as the usual IP to plunder for a reboot. And then I heard it was starring Peter Dinklage, Kevin Bacon and Elijah Wood among others, and I found myself intrigued. I strongly suspected those actors too had fond memories of watching the originals on VHS back in the day, and so when the film cropped up in the final Midnight Madness screening of this year’s Edinburgh International Film Festival, well of course I was going.

In the broadest strokes, this pretty much follows the simple formula from the 1980s: mild-mannered, put-upon everyman, now a janitor, Winston Gooze (Dinklage, using his hangdog expression perfectly here) has been dealt a series of bows, one after the other. He lies in St Romaville (the letters on the sign are faded so mostly the “T” and “ROMA” are visible, Geddit?), a rough, urban wasteland, run-down, polluted (by the very company he works for), run by corrupt politicians and gangsters in cahoots. He lost his wife,partner a year before, is now stepfather to a young boy with mental health difficulties, who doesn’t connect with him, despite him trying his best to look after him, then he discovers he has an inoperable brain condition, with only months to live.

But hey, fear not, there is a new experimental medicine! And his polluting company’s health insurance will totally cover it, right? Right?? Ah, no. An almost comical-tragical attempt to beg for help from the CEO (Kevin Bacon, clearly having fun here as a thoroughly despicable and preening villain) sees yet more rejection and disappointment, forcing him into a desperate attempt to break into his own workplace to steal money from the vault for his treatment.

Which of course goes wrong – he intersects with Taylor Paige’s environmentalist, J.J., who has been working with a crusading journalist to expose all the pollution and illnesses caused by the company, while Bob Harbinger (Bacon) has his minions, a metal group of psychopathic killers, commanded by his brother Fritz, a superbly creepy Elijah Wood chasing her. When their paths cross, she gets away, he is shot in the head and dumped into a tank of Toxic waste and… Well, I think most of you know what happens next!

Since most folks who are going to be interested in this new version are more than likely existing fans of the earlier films, comics and other media, I’m not going to rehash the plot here, you pretty much know what it is going to be: dunked in chemicals, mutations, new powers, coming to terms with it, using those powers to defend the town (with Luisa Guerrero donning the suit, having worked closely with Dinklage to match his mannerisms through the latex). The important question is, with modern resources and better budget than dear old Troma could ever have managed, does this still feel like a Toxie flick?

Well, of course it is a bit different, but overall this plays a lot of the familiar beats you both expect and want. Gags, puerile sexual references, ridiculously OTT splatter-gore (arms will be ripped off, heads removed by the glowing, Toxic mop, acidic pee will be deployed, toilet bowls are weapons!). It’s Grand Guignol, it’s messy, but it is also delightfully, knowingly silly, and all that violence and gore is so cartoonish that it is funny rather than horrifying. Kaufman himself makes a cameo, and according to a recent interview is delighted with the result.

The Toxic Avenger goes on general release at the end of August, and it is the sort of film best seen with a group of friends. Grab some drinks, some popcorn and sit in a group and laugh and cheer, and just enjoy some OTT fun (with an environmental message!).

This review was originally penned for Live For Films

Cymera time!

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This weekend sees the return of the annual Cymera Festival, Scotland’s festival of literary science fiction, fantasy and horror. As usual I will be there all weekend (there are author panels, workshops, gaming rooms, dealer’s rooms and even theatre!), and again I am also fortunate enough to be chairing againg this year. On Sunday 8th I’ll be in conversation with Gareth Powell, E.M. Faulds and Stark Holborn about their latest works. Many of the events are also available to view online if you can’t make it to Edinburgh.

Reviews: The Great When

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The Great When,
Alan Moore,
Bloomsbury

The great, bearded Magus of Albion commences a new prose series of fantasy works from Bloomsbury, the Long London series, following last year’s collection of short stories, Illuminations, from the same publisher. I’ll confess I was a bit wary when I was sent an advance copy of The Great When – much as I love Moore’s comics work and much of his other media creations, his previous prose novels like Voice of the Fire, and the enormous Jerusalem, really didn’t work for me at all (I’m sure I can hear my friend Padraig grinding his teeth at my temerity in not liking everything Alan writes, as I type!). However, I found this to be more accessible to my tastes and rather enjoyed it.

The wonderfully-monikered Dennis Knuckleyard is a young orphan in post-war London, struggling to make even a meagre existence in the grey, bombed-out streets of a city and country worn out by the Second World War. He’s an interesting choice for a main character – of course having a character who is fairly lacking in experience and knowledge at the start of a fantasy work is hardly unusual, but poor Dennis really is limited, not just in abilities, he really doesn’t even have much in the way of any drive to improve himself (other than a vague notion of being a “secret agent”, mostly because of the old Dick Barton radio show).

Scraping a living in a very down-at-heels bookshop, in an even more worn-down street (or what’s left of that street, after years of Luftwaffe visits rearranging the architecture, such as it was), run by the formidable and terrifying Ada, who may, or may not, have dispatched someone who wronged her years before and buried them in the dead soil that passes for a garden, with both of them living above the shop.

It’s when Ada sends Dennis on an errand across town to pick up a consignment of old books from a seller that his dismal and hopeless teenage life starts to take a very peculiar turn. He makes his pick-up okay, even makes the transaction for a better than expected price, saving money, which may make Ada slightly less grumpy (happy is unlikely). Except among the books in his box, there is an unusual one. Very unusual. It shouldn’t exist. At least, not in our reality…

This ties back to a very effective prologue, in which Moore brilliantly describes the child version of Dennis, caught outside during an air raid a few years earlier, the prose bringing forward the horror of entire neighbourhoods vanishing into flame, smoke and rubble, and a child amid it all, with nowhere safe to hide, catching a glimpse of something very strange, but later dismissing it as fevered imagination and trick of the light, brought on by the fires and explosions and trauma to his young mind.

Except, of course, it wasn’t imagination, he’s glimpsed a doorway into another realm, another version of the city, the Great When. And this book, it appears, comes from that fantastical and frequently disturbing version of the city. It is mentioned in a novel from our own version of reality, but it is a fictional work mentioned in a work of fiction… And yet here it is, a real book. Ada’s highly alarmed reaction scares Dennis, and it should – she knows enough to realise nothing from the Great When should be in our world, and it will attract some very unwelcome attention. She effectively kicks out a totally lost Dennis to try and either sink or swim, guessing the sink option is the more likely outcome for the unfortunate youth.

I don’t want to go into too much more of the plot for fear of spoilers; suffice to say Dennis has to find a way of having the book returned to where it belongs, preferably without being maimed or killed first, either by all-too-worldly people from our world (noticeably some East End gangsters, vaguely aware of its potential power), or from emissaries from that other realm, who won’t really care that none of this is his fault.

Moore takes us around locations in 1940s London, mixing in allusions to real events with the fictional (for example, the famous street battle against the black-shirted fascists), gangsters who hint at the celebrity mobsters to come, like the Krays, and most of all he uses the places and their histories, adding depth to the story. More than a few times you can feel the influence of his friend, Iain Sinclair and his psychogeography, and this really adds to to both the story, and to the feel of both this historic period of the London we know, but also the other London, because they reflect qualities of one another, old stories, characters, events.

Fears that an alternate city may be too similar to the likes of Gaiman’s Neverwhere, or Mieville’s City and the City prove unfounded – of course Moore is far too experienced a storyteller for that. His Great When has recognisable London elements, but so distorted and disturbing to our eyes, sometimes like a Surrealist acid trip. It’s unusual and fascinating, and although this is the first in a series, it felt very much like it also worked perfectly as a stand-alone novel.

Reviews: I Saw the TV Glow

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I Saw the TV Glow,
Directed by Jane Schoenbrun,
Starring Justice Smith, Brigette Lundy-Paine, Ian Foreman, Fred Durst, Amber Benson, Helena Howard

Owen (played by Ian Foreman as a boy, and Justice Smith when older) is an awkward schoolboy in small-town America in the 1990s – he seems to have no friends, he doesn’t even make eye contact with others (it may be that he has an undiagnosed condition), and home-life isn’t much better – his mother has a serious illness, which will claim her life fairly soon, and his father is a remote presence at best, but his few interactions are not encouraging (when Owen mentions wanting to be allowed to stay up to watch a show he has heard of, The Pink Opaque, his father gruffly proclaims “isn’t that a show for girls?”)

He first spots the Emo-esque Maddy (Bill and Ted Face the Music’s Brigette Lundy-Paine), sitting by herself, reading a book which he notices is an episode guide to The Pink Opaque (remember those? Pre-internet those paperback books of episode guides were our main way of finding out details of favourite series), and he later makes a shy, tentative approach to her. Maddy is also a misfit, playing the loner style card, but something about Owen causes her to slowly start reaching out to him, allowing him to come over to watch the show with her, while he tells his parents he’s having a sleepover at another friend’s house, and she starts sending him VHS copies of episodes she’s recorded.

The show itself features two main female characters, each with powers they are still exploring, and learning to work together to fight various preternatural monsters sent by the Big Bad of the series, Mister Melancholy, with echoes of actual 90s shows like Buffy or Charmed. And as with those real series, this becomes more than just a show to these two awkward, isolated kids – it’s not even that it is an obsession in watching it and talking about it, it starts to feel like elements of the show are real, more real and vibrant and important than their own lives.

When Maddy vanishes – she previously told Owen she needed to get out of this town, but he wouldn’t go after panicking – he continues with his life, a succession of boring, menial jobs, unable to even brighten these by befriending colleagues (he still can’t even meet their eyes), feeling trapped, not just in that life, but that life, meagre though it is, is flipping by faster and faster as he gets older (he likens it to skipping chapters on a DVD). Even rewatching the show, years later (now on streaming – he doesn’t even need to buy a tape now, he comments), it isn’t as he remembers, instead is it a cheap, cheesy show that he can’t relate to, totally different from his memories of it. When Maddy, long since considered missing and dead, returns, and claims to have seen into the “real” Pink Opaque, he’s unsure how to react.

I found this to be a fascinating piece – one of those films that comes along every now and then which doesn’t fit into an easy category (hurrah!). It’s part horror, part reality-bending drama, part coming-of-age tale, while the asexual nature of the relationship between the two leads (Maddy tells him early on she’s not into boys, Owen replies he’s just into TV shows, really), aided by having a non-binary actor in Lundy-Paine is refreshing, no forced romance, just two damaged souls who find a connection.

It is beautifully filmed, filled with some wonderful visuals (for instance, glimpses of Mister Melancholy show a “man in the moon” face, a more disturbing version of the famous one from Voyage Dans La Lune). It’s beautiful and dreamlike, and doesn’t spoon-feed easy answers, leaving much of it to the audience to interpret (again, rather refreshing, I thought), with elements sometimes feeling a little like an episode of Stranger Things if filmed by David Lynch.

Unusual, beautiful, and touching in its own way, and one of the more unusual films you can catch this year.

I Saw the TV Glow is available to buy on digital from September 30th from A24.

This review was originally penned for Live For Films

Edinburgh International Film Festival – Timestalker

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EIFF 2024 – Timestalker,
Directed by Alice Lowe
Starring Alice Lowe, Aneurin Barnard, Jacob Anderson, Nick Frost, Kate Dickie, Tanya Reynolds

Written, directed by and starring Alice Lowe (no mean achievement in itself), Timestalker turned out to be a total delight of a film, mixing science fiction, romance and a lot of humour (often very dark), as you may expect from the woman who brought us the brilliant comedy-horror-slasher Prevenge, which featured a pregnant woman sure her unborn child is telling her to deal violently with the people in her life, and her co-writing credit and role in the brilliant dark comedy-horror Sightseers.

We meet Agnes (Lowe) spinning yarn in a small croft, the spinning reel of thread perhaps a nod to the Fates of Classical myth, and if it is such a metaphor, it probably doesn’t bode well when the dog grabs the ball of yarn and runs off with it. It’s the late 1600s in Scotland, near Edinburgh, a time of great religious strife and upheaval. Agnes attends a secret religious meeting by an enigmatic young preacher, given as they often were in that period, in the countryside, because the crown had branded such preachers heretics.

Unfortunately they have been betrayed, and the preacher is captured by a local militia, and scheduled to be executed in public. Joining some woman friends at the town cross, there to see the execution (the others are delighted – this is entertainment!), she is horrified, not least because on gazing into the eyes of the preacher, Alex (Aneurin Barnard) she is besotted, and on trying to intervene Agnes accidentally falls against the scaffold, directly onto the sharp pike of one of the militia, killing her, while Alex, seeing his chance, makes off while the crowd is distracted.

This starts a pattern through the film – Agnes is reincarnated again and again in different periods. Each time , even if she has a comfortable position in her new existence, she has an ache, a longing for something, something missing from her life, but she doesn’t know what… Until she spies Alex again, also reincarnated, and suddenly it comes back to her, the memories of the previous lives, and the gruesome ends she comes to each time (“it hurts” she comments at one point on describing dying repeatedly).

We skip through historical periods, including a particularly memorable segment set in the more recent past – the 1980s – which allows for a lot of fun. Princess Di hairstyles, big shoulder pads, aerobics, people talking about “therapy”. In this era Alex is now a vacuous rock star, shining in the new MTV age (which allows for some delightful parodies of the music video styles of that period).

As she goes from life to life, and death to death, Agnes is convinced that her destiny is to be with Alex, why else would Fate keep bringing them back together each lifetime? But how does she get to be with him without, you know, having her head removed or otherwise brutally killed each and every time? The character of Scipio (Jacob Anderson, underplaying brilliantly (and almost stealing the show when he does so) also recurs repeatedly (as do her female friends from the 1600s), and offers advice; it seems as if he has some knowledge of what is going on, but can he help her? Will he, even if he can? And will love-blinded Agnes listen to him anyway? Imagine Aronofsky’s The Fountain, but with much more dark humour and a tongue often firmly in its cheek.

To say anymore would be to spoil it, but suffice to say while this has elements of a time-hopping Romeo and Juliet with reincarnation, it isn’t just as it appears (as Agnes herself will need to learn), and while it has great fun playing with the periods and the ideas of pursuing unrequited love across the centuries, the film is also taking a cheeky, humorous look at life and love, how we think it is (or should be), how it often actually is, about being blinded sometimes to what we should see because we’re too busy seeing what we think we want.

Given the very stringent budget limitations on this Indy film, it does amazingly well with the period pieces (we all know how expensive those are to create), wisely giving us glimpses of some periods to give us the idea quickly, and then concentrating mostly on a couple of periods, a good use of limited film-making resources which also, I think, helps the structure of the narrative (necessity really is the mother of invention, especially for Indy creators in any medium).

It’s funny, sometimes bawdy, sometimes swooningly romantic, but throughout each lifetime it is always dancing around the issues we all think about – why are we here, who is my soulmate, do I even need a soulmate, how do I live a good life without getting my head cut off every time? Timestalker is an absolute delight that left me leaving the festival screening with a huge smile. It is hopefully getting a general release in the autumn, so I hope more of you get a chance to enjoy it.

This review was originally penned for Live For Films

Reviews: Someone You Can Build a Nest In

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Someone You Can Build a Nest In,
John Wiswell,
Published Jo Fletcher Books,
Hardback, Published April 2024
ISBN 9781529431339

I’ve heard of Nebula-winning John Wiswell before, but not actually had a chance to read him, until Jo Fletcher books spotted me talking about another book and sendt me an advance copy, thinking if I liked that one I might like this. They were correct, and I am delighted that they sent it to me out of the blue like that, as this was one of those rather lovely reads that you don’t just enjoy for good story and characters, but come away sporting a big smile and a warm feeling inside.

It’s your classic love story – monster is feared and hunted by locals, convinced she is devouring people (well, okay, she does sometimes, mostly bad people, or people trying to hurt her though, to be fair), hides in ruins in a remote, dank area (shades of Shrek’s swamp home) where she can have privacy and safety, and also because, although she can shape-shift into human form, she hates having to talk to people and doesn’t quite understand how interpersonal relationships work. And then, injured in her human guise, she is found and tended to by Homily, one of those kind-hearted people who tries to help others.

This has never happened before, and Shesheshen – going under the name Siobhan here – finds herself at first alarmed and wondering what is going on, preparing to defend herself, then slowly realising that Homily helps because, well, that’s just who she is. And as she finds out more about Homily, how her good nature is a reaction to the awful behaviour of most of her family, and how they treat her, the more Shesheshen, still not understanding fully these relationships, finds herself becoming very attached to Homily, and protective of her, in a way a monster really shouldn’t with a human…

As I said, it is the old love story – monster falls for kind-hearted human, who doesn’t know they are really a monster, both have their vulnerabilities and foibles that they share, as they slowly fall for each other in a queer, cross-species fantasy romance, but will it survive when the truth is revealed? Romeo and Juliet, but with monster hunters, people eating and psychotic, aristocratic relatives. And running through it, a delicious sense of dark humour – Shesheshen, hearing monster hunters mutter that they should have brought priests with them thinks, oh, yes, I like priests, they taste so righteous, or having warm memories of being an infant monster, kept warm in the next by being surrounded by her late father’s intestines (he was a very good father, she thinks nostalgically).

It’s about identity, not fitting in, but sometimes finding there are others you can not fit in with in a way you never expected, and how that can really change your life in the most unexpected of ways (although still with people eating – a monster girl has to eat, after all). An absolute delight.

If you are ordering this book, please buy from your local, Indy bookshop if you can – Jeff Bezos does not need more of your money! If you don’t live near a local bookshop, you can order directly from the website of many of them, or go through Bookshop Dot Org, which allows you to support independent bookshops of your choice.

This review was originally penned for The Shoreline of Infinity, Scotland’s leading journal of Science Fiction and Fantasy.

Books: Best of the Year for 2023

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It’s that time again when I cast my eye back over some of my favourite reads of the year just gone, from science fiction to espionage history to biography to children’s picture books, and of course my beloved graphic novels (I don’t read quite as many as I did when I edited the Forbidden Planet Blog, but my comics DNA remains!). As usual, I am sure I will realise I’ve forgotten someone after I have posted this, but that’s usually the way!

And if you fancy trying any of these, please do consider buying from your local, Indy bookshop if you can, rather than the chains or the Giant Website That Shall Not Be Named (if you don’t have a local independent bookshop in your area, but would still like to support one, you can buy online via Bookshop.org)

Fiction

Lords of Uncreation, Adrian Tchaikovsky, Tor / PanMacmillan

The third and final part of Adrian’s gripping Final Architecture series, dealing with a future where the human diaspora is spread across the galaxy after the destruction of the Earth by the Architects, a mysterious, unknowable, unspeakably powerful race appears from hyperspace and “reshapes” planets, as if making celestial sculptures. Along with other races the survivors on other colonies live in constant fear of their return, and desperate measures are taken, exploring the very fabric of the reality of the universe. Again we see this from the eyes not of great heroes, but our mismatched crew of an old salvage vessel, caught up in politics, crime and galactic destruction.

Despite the size of the book, this is a fairly quick read, as it is so damned gripping and rides along at a terrific pace. Said it before and I will say it again, Adrian is one of the UK’s SF writers to add to your shelves, if you haven’t already, I recommend him regularly in our bookshop.

Starter Villain, John Scalzi, Tor / PanMacmillan

This was an utter delight to read – Scalzi is in his “let’s have fun” mode here. Charlie has had a run of bad luck – he’s relying on a temp job after losing his other work while looking after his ailing father, his marriage broke up, he is back living in the old family home with nowhere else to go, and his siblings want to sell it now their father has passed on. It’s just him and his cats against the world. Then he learns his estranged uncle has passed on, a billionaire and corporate titan, who fell out with his father after his mother’s death, and has never been in touch since.

Now Charlie has inherited his uncle’s business and must arrange the funeral, at which a succession of odd character appear, including some who take to attacking the corpse to ensure he is really dead. It turns out his uncle’s business as just one side of his life, the other was, well, supervillain, complete with a volcano lair on an island (waters patrolled by smart dolphins who want to form a union to get better working conditions). Oh, and his cats are genetically engineered spy cats his uncle slipped into his life to keep an eye on him. And his uncle’s many rivals now scent opportunity as Charlie has to learn the business. Along the way Scalzi manages potshots at the “tech bro” mentality and the idiocy of many of the super-rich (who all assume they must be incredibly clever if they are so rich, of course). This left me smiling.

Dragonfall, L.R. Lam, Hodderscape

I’ve known L for a while as one of our Edinburgh writers, so I was looking forward to this (she had me at the promise of “sexy dragons”!), and as a bonus we had a triple-header of women writers for an evening event at our bookshop, with L, Hannah Kaner and Anya Bergman (see next choices), which I had the pleasure of chairing (great event). This is the start if a new “romantasy” (romantic fantasy, a growing subgenre), which does something interesting and different with one of the most fabulous of mythological creatures, the dragon, and also gives us a compellingly-crafted bit of world-building, including a society with a different take on gender norms.

Godkiller, Hannah Kaner, HarperVoyager

Hannah was also one of our guests at out evening of women fantasy writers event, and I absolutely loved her debut. We have a realm where the royal family outlawed the many gods that existed, which were destabilising society, with gods of all sorts, from the mighty, like fire gods or ocean gods, to tiny, like a god of lost sandals, each with their icon and altars for worship (which fuels their existence), and while many toe the king’s law in public, in private many wish again for their gods. As conspiracies grow across a troubled land, in the best tradition we have a misfit bunch shoved together on a journey.

Hannah brings the characters to rich life, especially on the emotional front – you will really come to care for them. Despite often harsh, brutal elements, there’s also a warm strand of humour woven into it. I’ve just been reading an advance copy of the second volume, Sunbringer, which will be published in February 2024.

The Witches of Vardo, Anya Bergman, Bonnier

We had Anya as part of our trio of women fantasy writers, although this is more historical fiction with a wee smattering of (possible) magic. Drawn from surviving Norwegian court records of witch trials centuries ago, the main characters here are all real people named in those documents, and it will often make your blood boil to read it and realise that, although this is fictionalised, there were women with those names who were treated this disgraceful way by a patriarchal power-base terrified of the idea of women getting ideas above their station.

There’s just enough in there that you could explain some of the more unusual moments away, but equally you could also decide there is indeed some magic involved, the writer leave it to the reader. There have been some great “witchlit” novels in the last year or two, but this one stands out, not least for the historical trial records which underpin it.

The Boys in the Valley, Philip Fracassi, Orbit

I enjoy a good, creepy horror, preferably something that takes the time to build atmosphere, and Philip does that superbly well here – set in a harsh, rural, winter in the US, I was sent this in the middle of the summer, but I still felt those cold winds! The sheriff and his posse seek help at a Catholic orphanage during a snow storm, dragging a hideously injured man they shot earlier, a man covered in arcane tattoos cut into his flesh, a man who should be dead.

He and others had been carrying out some sort of dark ritual, including sacrifices, when the sheriff took them. When the strange man finally dies of his wounds, it is as if the evil in him seeps out into the orphanage and everyone there, like an infection, changing behaviours, unleashing darkness. Delightfully creepy, in the Exorcist vein.

A Haunting on the Hill, Elizabeth Hand, Sphere / LittleBrown

Hand, an acclaimed writer, is, appropriately, a multiple winner of the Shirley Jackson Award; here she is revisiting Jackson’s classic masterpiece, the Haunting of Hill House. Cleverly she side-steps the obvious sequel, instead this is a theatre group hiring the house in the modern era, only to find strange noises and sights and thoughts. Like the original it eschews cheap jump-scare tactics or gore, instead this is psychological terror and atmosphere. I love the original and I have to say I really enjoyed this – ideal for those looking for a creepy, haunting tale on the long, dark nights.

Red River Seven, Anthony Ryan, Orbit

I knew nothing about this book in advance, when the publisher sent me a copy to look at, and within the first few pages Anthony had me hooked right in. A man wakes up on a boat, with no personal memories. He still has knowledge and skills he learned, but nothing about himself – his name, if he had a family, anything of that nature. Others wake up on the ship, save one who appears to have shot himself just before they woke. Each appears to have different skills, as if someone had assembled them as a team, but again no personal memories.

Each bears marks of recent surgery on their skull and torso, and a tattoo with a name (each is given the name of a writer). The boat’s controls are sealed, it is on an automatic course to … somewhere. A radio comes to life, and an artificial voice gives them strict instructions to follow, and will not answer their questions. I won’t say much more because of spoilers, but this has elements of Cube, John Carpenter and even Jeff VanderMeer in its DNA; I found it totally gripping. (full review here)

Infinity Gate, M.R. Carey, Orbit

I’ve been reading Mike’s work since his comics writing days, and here he is doing something new for him – his first foray into Space Opera, with a big, widescreen, multiverse of a setting. In a world very like ours, near future, wars and exhausted natural resources and pollution and environmental collapse, a scientist in Africa has created a portal to parallel Earths – potentially the way to save the world, giving access to near limitless resources.

But there is already a vast confederation out there, of cultures spread across the multiverse, and they really don’t care for anyone else poking their nose into portal technology… Along the way Mike layers in some nice references to racism, bigotry, imperialism and environmental issues across these different but parallel worlds.

Mr Breakfast, Jonathan Carroll, Melville House

I’ve loved Carroll’s works for decades; highly respected by those in the know, and among many other writers, it is a mystery to me why he’s not more widely known. He has a remarkable talent for creating stories that come at you in interesting, different angles than most. Here he has Graham Patterson, a failing stand-up comedian, whose life is falling apart. After one final, poor show, he decides to quit, buy a stupidly large truck, and drive slowly across the US to his family on the opposite coast where he will take up a more mundane job, giving up his dream. On his way he stops overnight in a small town, and is taken with the art on display in the window of a tattoo parlour, prompting him to choose one of their designs.

What he doesn’t know is that this tattoo is special, it gives the wearer a glimpse into alternative versions of their own life, then choose one (or remain in their current life). It doesn’t offer an easy way out – for instance, you may see a version of you that is successful, happy, but that doesn’t mean that life will always be that way, because, well, life. Along the way he starts taking photographs, and these start to weave themselves into the multiple versions of his lives as he attempts to decide who he wants to be.

More Perfect, Temi Oh, Simon & Schuster

Temi gives us a near future in a world very much like ours, but more so, where almost everyone is linked to the Panopticon, a neural net that links not just computers, as we have today with the web, but minds, sharing ideas, even dreams – never be alone! Not everyone loves this idea, and of course it is also wide open to huge abuses, but just as it is seen as odd not to have web access in today’s society, this anti-Panopticon group is viewed as eccentric at best, as a threat to society at worst, and we will experience this world through the eyes of a young woman finally connecting (as was her desire for years) and a young man who has been isolated from it all his life by his dissident father. Shades of the Matrix, Inception and Bill Gibson are woven in with a fresh perspective from Oh (and with a rich seam of diversity too) – she’s a writer to watch, I think.

Ritual of Fire, D.V. Bishop, PanMacmillan

I’ve known David for years through our comics connections (he is a former Tharg, the editor of the legendary 2000 AD comic), and he is also a regular in our bookshop, so when he had the first of his new historical crime novels set in Renaissance era Florence, I had to have a look, and I was hooked. This is the third in the series, and sees our main detective-like character, Aldo, sent out into the surrounding countryside to patrol, sent away from the city, just as a series of gruesome murders of influential Florentines starts, all seemingly linked to an insane religious zealot of a monk who had wreaked havoc a few decades previously, before being put to death.

It’s compelling, with some truly gruesome ends, and David kept me guessing right up to the last few pages as to which way he was going to take it – reading so much I often sense where a story arc is going, but not here, and that was refreshing and welcome. Looking forward to book four this summer.

Viper’s Dream, Jake Lamarr, No Exit Press

When an advance copy of this arrived, I had to have a look – billed as a “jazz noir”, one of my colleague rightly commented, this one must be for you. We follow Viper’s life through a changing Harlem, from the 1930s to the 60s, and the changing scenes around him. Leaving his rural life behind he thinks he will become a great jazz musician, but it turns out he’s terrible, so instead, after a stint working in a jazz club, he becomes a heavy for the owner’s sideline in drugs supplied to the musical fraternity, rising in the ranks, befriending many famous names (people like Duke Ellington and Miles Davis appear as background characters).

It’s a short but atmospheric tale, watching the world and the music scene change around him as the decades roll past, while a personal history recurs again to prompt his own story arc through this. You don’t need to know jazz to enjoy this book, it is a solid, period Noir tale, but if you do like jazz, it’s a bonus. (full review here)

The Second Murderer, Denise Mina, Harvill Secker

“The Montgomery’s money was so old there was a rumour that some of it still had Moses’ teeth marks on it”

One of Tartan Noir’s great crime writing queens, Denise Mina, turns to Raymond Chandler, with a brand-new tale of his iconic Philip Marlowe, one of the most legendary gumshoes of all time. I really wasn’t too sure about this at first – normally I am not mad on a writer doing a deceased writer’s characters, but I know Denise wouldn’t try this unless she thought she could do it both well and with respect for the original material, and indeed she does.

I adore the Chandler novels, and yes, I loved this too – it felt exactly like having that character and world again, but maintaining Chandler’s feel while never slavishly copying, bringing something of her own style to it too. One for fellow lovers of Chandler and classic Gumshoe Noirs.

Graphic Novels

The Hard Switch, Owen D Pomery, Avery Hill

Owen’s previous graphic novel, Victory Point (also Avery Hill), was one of my books of that year, so when Avery Hill had their annual Kickstarter for upcoming new releases, this is one I jumped at backing. Very different from his previous book, this is science fiction, set on a run down, working spaceship scavenging wrecks in a universe where the material that allows faster than light travel is running out – when it is totally gone, people will be effectively stuck on the planet and its solar system they are on, so everyone is scrambling to get what they can then settle somewhere before it happens, while law and order is eroding. This has a real Firefly vibe to it, and again the artwork is a beautiful, clear line style.

Why Don’t You Love Me?, Paul B Rainey, Drawn & Quarterly

 

Back when I edited the Forbidden Planet Blog, Paul’s serial Why Don’t You Love Me? Was one we shouted out many times. Fast forward several years and D&Q produced this lovely, big hardback collection of Paul’s fascinating series, a brilliant comic strip that has you thinking it is one thing, then another, then another, slowly revealing layers upon layers – it’s original, unusual and really draws you further and further into it to see where it is really going. It has, rightly, been appearing on best of the year lists all over the UK and US, and I’m delighted that this veteran of the UK Small Press comics scene is getting such wider recognition for his unique style of comics.

Transitions: a Mother’s Journey, Élodie Durand, translated by Evan McGorray, Top Shelf

“I thought I was open-minded… The news of my child’s gender change hit me like a tidal wave, sweeping away all my certainties. Sweeping away the comfort of my tidy little life.”

The ongoing discussions, debates – and sadly sometimes screaming matches – over the issues of Trans identity in our media can sometimes obscure the fact that, when you look past ideologies, social expectations and norms (and often prejudices which many of us probably never even realised we had), much of it boils down to something very, very simple, something that in one form or another we all do: a person trying to figure out who they are, how to live, how to be comfortable in that skin. Durand takes a mother suddenly finding out her girl actually has found herself identifying as a male for some time, now becoming a Trans man.

There is the initial shock and surprise, the mother wondering how this happened, did she do something wrong somehow? But then through a mixture of musings and performing her own research, she does what any good parent does – she tries to understand so she can support her child. A compelling mixture of informative and compassionate.

Alison, Lizzy Stewart, Serpent’s Tail

In lesser hands, this story of a now-famous artist recounting how as a young, naïve woman she met a famous, much older artist and fell into his orbit would be one where it was mostly concerned with the older, more sophisticated, experienced man taking advantage of a younger, less worldly woman, but Alison is far more nuanced. Although it doesn’t shy away from looking at that aspect of the relationship, it also explores a genuine relationship and romance, despite the age and social difference, and the way she is slowly encouraged to learn more about art, then develop her own, part of the path that lead to her later becoming an acclaimed artist in her own right.

It’s a fascinating tale, also an interesting take on that subject of the older artist and younger muse/lover, and one which I am glad to say does not relegate her to just being that, but explores her as an actual person and artist.

Big Ugly, Ellice Weaver, Avery Hill

When we’re younger, especially in our teens, we often think we’re clueless, that everyone else seems to know what they want to do with life, how to act in most situations, unlike us, but hey, when we are older, we’ll have it all figured out. Then, of course, we find out differently, and we realise actually although part of us still thinks others have a handle on life, unlike us, really they’re mostly thinking the same as us. Ellice creates a story of two siblings, sharing a home as adults after one goes through a rough time, that family dynamic of both feeling and wanting to be needed and help while sometimes resenting being needed, of casting back to youthful incidents that somehow you’re convinced are part of what marked your present, adult self, if only this had been different, if someone had done that instead of this your life today would be so much better…

It’s very recognisable stuff to many of us, while Ellice’s unusual art style reminds me (pleasantly) of stills from a cool animated film, with a nice mix of intimate panels and the odd double-page splash, drawing you in.

Non-Fiction

For The Love of Mars, Matthew Shindell, University of Chicago Press

The Red Planet has fascinated humanity for millennia, from deciding it was a sign from the God of War in antiquity, to early science fiction convinced life existed there, to our modern era where we have been mapping and exploring our near-neighbour. While this is a good popular science read, it is also much more – Shindell covers our scientific explorations and knowledge gained of Mars, but he also takes pains to put the planet into a cultural context, what it has represented to humans in our culture as well as our science, which makes this more human and approachable, and all the more interesting.

Making It So, Sir Patrick Stewart, Gallery / Simon & Schuster

I don’t read a lot of biographies, but, well, this is Patrick Stewart… Obviously there is the very important Star Trek element to this, but the other decades of his life are also compelling reading, from a childhood in a small town in rural Yorkshire, on the edge of poverty (outdoor toilet, hiding with his mum when the rent man came to call) through to being bitten by the acting bug, slowly realising that yes, actually working class lads from Yorkshire can go to drama school, not just the posh folks, the Old Vic, landing his dream job at the RSC, starting to get film work and more.

There’s a strong sense of humour running through it all, and he’s not shy of turning that humour on himself at some points (a couple of times it put me slightly in mind of Spike Milligan’s memoirs). Through all of it shines a love of storytelling, especially with Shakespeare, and the sense of a man who realises how fortunate he has been and is enjoying that life. (full review here)

Wise Gals, Nathalia Holt, Icon Books

This is a fascinating book about a fascinating, and often hidden, subject – espionage. The women here all served in the early incarnations of the US Intelligence services, during the scramble to create such departments as WWII raged (some served as spies and resistance leaders behind the enemy lines, risking torture and death), and then helped to set up the new CIA after the war. That in itself would be compelling reading, the tugs and pulls of war, politics and ethics all clashing, and the women themselves ranging from rural, small-town gals to sophisticated society ladies who spoke multiple languages.

What they had in common was a determination to do a good job for their country, and the bravery to see it through – although this also brings them smack into the incredible sexism of the era – they don’t get the pay or promotions or respect male counterparts do, despite often being as good or better at what they do, so they use their intelligence gathering training to construct data on why women are so important to the CIA to campaign for their rights. This is history, politics, culture and feminism all in one, absorbing read.

Camera Man, Dana Stevens, Atria Books

I’ve loved Buster Keaton’s astonishing silent comedy films since I was a child, watching them with my dad (we both still enjoy watching them!), so this was always going to grab my attention. But Stevens hasn’t created just a simple biography, although this does take us through Buster’s life, from childhood on the vaudeville stage, to the new medium of cinema, to his old age, dispelling myths along the way (such as him effectively disappearing into a bottle when his principal movie stardom faded, despite the fact he was very active in a number of fields for decades after this era).

What she has done is take his life and career, but also use it as a way to look at how entertainment, culture and society all changed across Buster’s lifetime, from the late Victorian period to the 1960s, how the newly evolving technology of film affected popular culture, how people like Buster innovated in that embryonic medium, through to the rise of the corporate studio systems, and to the emergence in the 50s and 60s of TV, which revived interest in these almost-lost silent classics. It’s as fascinating for those insights as it is for reading about the life of one of the first, great movie stars. (review here)

Children’s & YA Books

Bumble and Snug: the Shy Ghost, Mark Bradley, Hodder Children’s Books

I absolutely loved Mark’s Bumble and Snug series, and have been recommending it constantly in our wee bookshop, and am delighted to say quite a few of our younger readers have been just as delighted with them! In this third volume our bestest friend Bugpops are preparing for a magic show, when they befriend a ghost – but, as the title suggest, the ghost has a crippling shyness, and the thought of trying to do something in front of people is very scary, so of course they try to help them.

As with the previous books, there’s a lovely wee adventure here, a lot of humour, but also again an underlying theme of friendship and trying to be kind to others, to understand feelings, that we have them and so do others around us – it’s a good message for young readers to learn, but mostly as with the first two books, the main thing I took from this is just pure joy.

100 Tales From the Tokyo Ghost Cafe, Julian Sedgwick and Che Kutsuwada, Guppy Books

I had the pleasure of working with Julian and Chie at their event at the Edinburgh International Book Festival last summer, following their previous collaboration, Tsunami Girl, which likes this is an intriguing mixture of both prose and manga. As with Tsunami Girl, the two forms overlap, compliment and indeed enhance the other, the manga performing some storytelling tricks that prose cannot, and vice versa, giving a very rounded view into the characters and the world(s) they explore.

Drawing on famous Yokai tales of Japanese spirits, folklore and myths, our main characters – avatars of the authors – are travelling through Japan to research these tales, each leg of the journey opening up other tales, but with a connecting narrative thread running throughout. There are even some rather lovely nods to characters from Tsunami Girl (you don’t have to read that to get this, but it will add to your experience if you have), in a book which presents rich, Japanese folklore in a very accessible manner, but also in one which is often deeply emotional and personal too.

Mexikid, Pedro Martín, Guppy Books

After chatting to some lovely folks from Guppy Books at the Edinburgh International Book Festival in the summer, they very kindly sent me a copy of their edition of Pedro’s autobiographical graphic novel, Mexikid, and I am so glad they did! We’re back in the 1970s, with his large family (eight kids!) in a busy, busy household, and about to become more crowded as they are packing up for a road trip south of the border, back to Mexico – their abuelito, grandfather, something of a legend in the family, is going to be coming back with them to the US.

What follows is part family history, but also a gentle exploration of both Mexican and American lifestyles and cultures, and events which shape families and individuals, all delivered in a wonderfully warm, engaging and often very funny way, with much of the humour coming from a child’s point of view, and the tangled nature of family dynamics (something anyone from any culture can identify with!).

Sam Francisco, King of the Disco, Sarah Tagholm, Binny, Rocket Bird Books / Barrington Stoke

Oh but this picture book had me smiling and laughing – we finally find out what cats do when they are out all night long, and it turns out it is partying as DJ Sam Franciso spins the most awesome tunes around! Of course this does keep some others awake, including the street’s grump, Buzzkill Bill, who unleashes his dogs on the cat rave. Except the dogs join the party, as does everyone else!

Whose Dog Is This?, Andrew Sanders and Aysha Awwad, Macmillan Children’s Books

I loved Andrew and Aysha’s previous picture book, Where Has All the Cake Gone?, and this features the same father and young son, and a similarly tall tale as the boy seems to be inventing ever-more elaborate excuses to explain his naughty behaviour, which becomes ever more imaginative and convoluted (including stealing top secrets and the intervention of a brilliant spy dog, no less! It builds to a crescendo that, like the previous book, leaves you wondering if it was really all made up as an excuse, or if there was just a bit of truth to it, leaving you with a huge smile. I’ve read both this and the previous books at our regular Under Fives Storytime, and they went down well.

Rose Wolves, Natalie Warner, Top Shelf

This is a deceptively simple, beautiful tale, told entirely without words, the art carrying all of the story here. A young girl finds an unusual flower in the forest, a flower which blooms magically into an unusual creature, the Rose Wolf. The animal is missing a leg, just as the wee girl is missing an arm, and the two quickly bond, leading to an adventure to find out where they belong in the world around them. Reminding me a little of Slade’s Korgi series (also a wordless, all-ages comic), this is an enchanting, gorgeous, warm delight for both younger readers (the wordless nature makes it especially suitable for any with reading problems) and adults.

Ning and the Night Spirits, Adriena Fong, Flying Eye Books

Ning has trouble making friends with the other children in his village, and also wonders why the villagers always light lanterns to scare away night spirits. It isn’t long before he goes exploring and find he can make friends, starting with the night spirits in the forest. This is an utterly beautiful work, part picture book, part graphic novel in style, with the usual high standards from Flying Eye. Colourful, enchanting and gorgeous, this is ideal for those who adore Studio Ghibli.

Monster Support Group, Laura Suarez, Flying Eye Books

Channel some of your inner Addams Family with this gorgeously ghoulish tale of young Lowell – 12 years old and worrying about body changes. No, not just the usual ones, Lowell is turning into a werewolf!! He finds the local Monster Support Group where they “don’t judge witches by their warts, nor ghouls by their groans.” It’s a lovely little comedy-horror about growing up, changing, learning to be comfortable with yourself and finding the people who will accept you as you are, all with that Addams Family / Tim Burton twist to it. Made me chuckle!

Reviews: Wonderful, old-school delights in The Spine of Night

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The Spine of Night,
Directed by Philip Gelatt and Morgan Galen King
Starring (voices of) Lucy Lawless, Richard E Grant, Patton Oswalt, Betty Gabriel, Joe Manganiello

“Look to the stars, Ghal-Sur. Tremble before the immensity of the night!”

Oh, boy, was this a fabulous, old-school treat! I’ll say right off the bat that this is a film with a specific appeal to a certain fandom, and not for everyone, but those of us who love – and indeed miss – that kind of thing, will rejoice in this. Epic, animated, cosmic fantasy with buckets of blood and body parts flying, casual nudity and trippy visuals, all delivered in that arresting mix of rotoscoped animation over live footage, with hand-drawn and CG inserted backgrounds. Yes, this is indeed old-school, and totally rocking that 1970s and 80s vibe from the like of Bakshi’s animated Lord of the Rings or the wonderfully demented Heavy Metal. Not a style we see much of these days, and I suspect some new to it may not take to it, but those of us who grew up on the aforementioned flicks (often watched on dodgy VHS bootlegs!) will be in animation heaven.

Rather than one single, grand quest epic, or a struggle against one tyrant, Spine of Night, while one film, feels almost like several smaller tales linked together (perhaps reflecting the lone period it took to make it, or Gelatt’s background in the excellent Love, Death and Robots anthology series), taking us across centuries of conflict and struggle between different people on the same world, linked by a sacred blue plant, which, with the correct knowledge, has remarkable abilities and powers, powers some serve but others covet and desire to use for their own ends.

We see Tzod (voiced by Xena herself, the fabulous Lucy Lawless), the bare-breasted priestess of a simple tribe of swamp dwellers, who can work magic with the use of the plant and her incantations. Her people are slaughtered by the forces of Lord Pyrantin (voiced by Patton Oswalt), lead by Mongrel (Joe Manganiello), who want her alive for the information – and power. This is the start of a series of struggles that takes place across centuries – the plant has astonishing abilities, but it is so often wanted by the wrong people, for the wrong purposes, bringing death and misery instead of spiritual enlightenment and wonder, with Tzod setting forth on a long journey to a remote, frozen mountain, source of the plant and its Guardian (Richard E Grant, clearly enjoying himself!), on a quest to try to break this centuries-long cycle of misuse and destruction.

Visually, Spine is a total feast, and the obvious love for that now largely bygone era of Rotoscoped adult animated films is very clear. Also very clear on the making-of documentary included among the extras (plus a couple of shorts as well) is that Gelatt is One Of Us. In fact it’s probably fair to say most of those involved in creating this film are also One Of Us – they’re fans, they love those same influences we do, and this really is a labour of love (some seven years to create), and wanted to share in that love one more time, and Spine really does let us wallow in that guilty pleasure!

As I said, this may not be for everyone, but those of us who loved Heavy Metal, or Laloux’s Fantastic Planet, this is just a total gift, bringing back a style of both story and rotoscoped animation that has largely vanished from film-making today, while the extras, especially the making of segments, show just how much of a labour of love this was to make, and that shows in the finished film.

The Spine of Night will bereleased on DVD, Blu-Ray and Digital from October 24th by Acorn Media

This review was originally penned for Live For Films

Reviews: A Declaration of the Rights of Magicians

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A Declaration of the Rights of Magicians,

H.G. Parry,

Orbit,

Paperback, 534 pages

Kiwi author H.G Parry was new to me when I read her utterly delightful The Unlikely Escape of Uriah Heep at the start of this year, in which a young literary academic prodigy has the unusual gift of bringing characters forth from what he is reading, if he gets too lost in the book (seriously, it was a book-lover’s delight, chock full of references to other works and with a wonderful sense of fun, it went down well with my SF Book Group). Orbit planned to release a second book by Parry within just a few months, so I was now primed and looking forward to this one, and while I loved her first novel, I was also pleased to see this next one was taking a very different subject matter and approach, being ostensibly Alternative History.

I must confess I have a real soft-spot for alt-history tales, doubtless driven by my interest in history; anyone who has read a lot of history books is almost certainly aware how many world-changing events could easily have happened differently, and this offers fertile ground for storytellers, from Ward Moore’s classic Bring the Jubilee to the massive and engrossing works of Neal Stephenson. In this instance Parry is focused on the Age of Enlightenment, with the main action taking place in three locations: France as the Revolution approaches and then happens, the Haitian slave rebellion in the Caribbean, and in Britain, the work of Wilberforce and Pitt to create an Abolition bill to outlaw the slave trade.

The book is littered with many actual historical events and figures, from the aforementioned Pitt and Wilberforce to Robespierre in France and Toussaint Louverture in what would become Haiti, but while it follows much of our world’s established history, this is a version of our world in which magic is real. Real, but restrained, however, especially for the Commoners, who are forbidden to use any inherited powers, while the aristocracy has much more leeway in using their gifts to enhance their already privileged lifestyle and opportunities. The threat and promise of power through magical ability – or the restraint of that power – links the events in all three settings, as does the issue of immorality of slavery.

As the monarchy of France falls to Revolution – with a call for “free magic and liberty” replacing the more familiar “liberty, fraternity and equality” – and the Haitian slave rebellion blooms, the Revolutionaries are torn, as the slaves are demanding the same rights and freedoms as they do – but the French coffers need the money coming from that lucrative sugar trade which relied on back-breaking slave labour (the clash between morality and money, a sadly eternal quandary throughout our history, imagined or actual). Magic is also used to bind the slaves in this world – while the brutal treatment of our own shameful slave-owning history is present here, a magical elixir is also used, which effectively imprisons slaves with their own body and will compliant to their masters, while leaving their mind perfectly aware of what is being done to them but unable to react, to even cry out if they want to, another horror on top of horror.

Morality and the struggle to maintain one’s principles is very much at the core of this story – as well as struggling with the notions of equal freedom for the Caribbean slave, the French Revolutionaries, notably Robespierre (whose magical power is Mesmerism, very useful in the debating chamber) who has strong principles, which he increasingly bends then breaks, in the name of securing Liberty (the ends justify the means, even if it means The Terror). In Britain too the fight to end the slave trade is riven by those who insist it is fine in principle but in practice will bankrupt the nation, just as it needs every resource to combat the French in warfare, while in Haiti the slave rebellion leaders debate the merits of trying to be merciful if they do secure a free society on the island, rather than giving in to the (no doubt justified) revenge on those who inflicted years of cruelty upon them.

Into this already engrossing stew of events and philosophical musings there are hints of a wider magical history underpinning this era, including a centuries-ago war against vampire lords, which lead to a bloody campaign to free Europe of dark magics, a pact still enforced by the Knights Templar, even in Protestant countries like Britain. And behind all these world-wide events is a shadow-figure, glimpsed mostly in dreams by Robespierre, Toussaint Louverture and Pitt, who seems to often be offering help and advice, but you just know that any bargain made with this mysterious figure will be a Faustian pact.

This is a richly-detailed alt-history, and arriving with wonderful coincidence as the Black Lives Matter movement has triggered far more serious reconsideration of the slave-owning era in the history of many countries, and its legacy (indeed one of Pitt’s fellow politicians here is Dundas, who delays the attempts to end the slave trade – as I was reading this we are debating in my home-town of Edinburgh how to mark his statue, atop a huge column, to address his shameful legacy, just as memorials to others from that era are also being re-evaluated). You can imagine how this coincidental timing of events and publication added to reading of this book, and acted as a reminder, if any were needed, that history is never just the study of the past (even in imaginary, alt-history), because the present is shaped by that history; it isn’t really past, it’s still with us, affecting all aspects of our civilisation in ways we need to study and comprehend if we are to learn from those events and grow beyond them to a better future.

A beautifully-written tale, which takes in the personal – the close friendship of Pitt and Wilberforce for instance – as much as it does the large-scale, global picture of events, with a strong examination of morality and how power corrupts it, be it money, legislative power or magical abilities, with some lovely turns of phrase (Parry’s descriptions of the walls of the House of Commons reacting musically to a well-written speech is quite wonderful and evocative of the power of well-chosen words, delivered with conviction). I look forward to the next volume.

On a side note: if you enjoy history and are interested in this period, Mike Duncan’s excellent Revolutions podcast series has covered both the French and the Haitian revolutions used in this book in great (but very accessible) details

This review was originally penned for Shoreline of Infinity, Scotland’s leading journal of Science Fiction.

Cymera 2020

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Back in June I was delighted to both attend and also take part in the very first Cymera Festival of literary science fiction, fantasy, YA and Horror here in Edinburgh, at the Pleasance (here’s my report and, of course, photos). It went amazingly well, especially for a first time outing (huge kudos to Anne and the other organisers and volunteers),I caught many panels with a wide variety of authors, some new to me, some old friends I’ve known years, and had the pleasure of chairing a talk with Ken MacLeod, Gareth Powell and Adrian Tchaikovsky about their books.

I’ve known that a second Cymera was being planned for June 2020, and now the festival has started its Crowdfunder appeal. I’ve already backed it as I did last year (which also gets me the weekend pass so I can come and go to any and all events through the whole festival, a bargain and dibs on booking which events I want to catch). If you enjoy good science fiction, fantasy, YA and horror literature then this is an event I highly recommend, and unlike many SF cons I have been to, it is in a nice venue in the city centre, not some out-of-town hotel. The Crowdfunder page is here, and there is a short promotional video (warning, the video does include a little bit of me!):