Category: Book Reviews

  • Trinity Works Alone

    Trinity Works Alone

    In the 1980s, Frank Trinity cruises around Tucson looking for a rich man’s missing daughter. Meanwhile, a Native American bull rider searches for the man who killed his brother. Are the two cases related? Is the Pope Catholic?

    “Trinity Works Alone” lured me in with the author’s terse, staccato prose. I love it when authors cut every word to the bone. Crime fiction works well when it is brisk and matter of fact. Too bad writer Trevor Holliday went overboard and stripped out all of the personality.

    Frank is cool, dispassionate, and annoyingly hollow. A week after finishing the book, I struggle to find words to describe him. Stoic? Stern? There isn’t even enough there to call him a cliche. The most memorable thing he does is con a guy out of a hundred bucks while playing tennis. So, there’s that.

    Oh! I remembered something: Every woman he meets wants to jump his bones. Don’t ask me why. The book never makes it clear. It certainly isn’t his personality. Maybe he looks like George Clooney.

    Good detective fiction is as much about the detective as it is about the case and why they pursue it. Entire dissertations have been written about Philip Marlowe and Sam Spade. I’m struggling to write a paragraph about Frank Trinity.

    I could ignore the question mark of a protagonist if the mystery was at least decent. Frank’s investigation is about as straightforward as it gets. Someone early on warns him that the girl was last seen with a no-good thug. When Frank finds the thug, he finds the girl. Presto, mystery solved.

    Look, if you need something to read on the plane or to take your mind off how much it sucks to be at the beach, then this will occupy your attention for an afternoon. It’s a fine, brisk read. Just don’t expect it to stick with you afterward.

  • The Lost City of Z

    The Lost City of Z

    A century ago, famed British explorer Percy Fawcett led an expedition into the Amazon looking for a mythical lost city. The group disappeared without a trace. In the years that followed, dozens-or-maybe-hundreds of people made their way to Brazil to search for the lost explorers. Most would return without answers. Some wouldn’t return at all.

    The mystery endures today. The book’s author, David Grann, found himself going down the Fawcett rabbit hole and trekked into the jungle himself. The Lost City of Z tells his story and recounts what is known about Fawcett’s doomed venture.

    I picked this up on a whim. I don’t read much non-fiction. After a decade as a journalist, I prefer to spend my leisure time reading fantasy. Not swords and dragons and maidens. I want fictionsloppy, trashy, dime-store, paperback fiction. I want high stakes, high adventure, high drama.

    Holy cow, the jungle delivers. It’s hard to tell on a map, but that large green smudge in South America is a merciless killing machine that will chew you up and spit out your bones. I think I understood this, deep down in some instinctual lizard portion of my brain. The Lost City of Z makes you feel it. It’s like a horror story. Those lucky few who make it out of the jungle emerge sick, starving, and infected with two-inch-long maggots under their skin. It’s amazing that anyone goes into the Amazon at all. I think I would turn to ash if I even looked at the jungle wrong.

    That being said, I’m glad I read this book. The author does a fantastic job writing about a mystery that, really, has no answer, and perhaps never will. He uncovers some information and reaches a conclusion about what happened. You can believe it or not. It’s a little underwhelming, but that’s history for you. Not everything comes to a happy or exciting end.

    What really stood out to me was the information about the lost city. Many people believe Fawcett was chasing a mirage through the jungle. The author tackles this idea, comparing his own findings with the early accounts by conquistadors that sparked Fawcett’s obsession with the place he called Z. I wouldn’t dream of spoiling those answers here, but they paint a fascinating picture of what may have once been hidden within the “green hell.”

  • Crimson Lake

    Crimson Lake

    Wrongly accused of a heinous crime he didn’t commit, ex-cop Ted Conkaffey is trying to lay low in the fringes of rural Australia. When he begins talking to his old service pistol, Ted suspects it is time to get out of the house. Enter Amanda Pharrell, a local private investigator in need of a partner. She’s also the town pariah after murdering her classmate as a teenager.

    An accused child rapist teaming up with a convicted killer? Sounds like a match made in heaven.

    Ted and Amanda are hired to investigate the death of a local author. The case appears cut and dry. A crocodile coughed up the man’s wedding ring. Could it be suicide by croc? Or something more nefarious? A note hidden in a cigar box sends them down a trail of secret liaisons, obsessive fans, vigilante teenagers, and cold-blooded killers.

    As they dig deeper into the case, author Candice Fox delves into Ted’s emotional turmoil. He’s a broken man, haunted by his time in prison, terrified of being recognized on the street. Since the case was dropped due to lack of evidence, Ted’s been found guilty in the court of public opinion. He’s heard so many different versions of what may have happened on that fateful day, his memories have started to warp into a twisted “What If?” nightmare.

    It’s harrowing stuff, and the author captures it with a deft hand. It would have been easy for the story to descend into an all-out misery fest: Ted drinking his life away while dodging bricks thrown through his windows. But the little glimpses of his humanity — tending to wayward geese, poking holes in the case that put his new partner away, rebuilding his home and a sense of normality when rogue cops smash everything he owns — really make you root for the guy. It’s almost enough to stand alone as its own story, but Fox balances it and the core mystery like a seasoned pro.

    Really, my only complaint about the book is that the resolution to Ted and Amanda’s investigation is a bit jarring. It ends up making sense once the author lays it out, but it felt like a stretch for our characters to get there. But hey, even greats like Raymond Chandler couldn’t always tell you who-killed-who in his own books. No reason to let a little Sherlock Holmesian leap in logic ruin the fun.

  • Han Solo’s Revenge

    Han Solo’s Revenge

    The intergalactic smuggler with a heart of gold returns in the 1979 novel, “Han Solo’s Revenge.” Which of course begs the question, “What is he so mad about?”

    Well, after his latest get-rich-quick scheme sparks a minor uprising, Han and Chewie strike out for the Corporate Sector. It’s a few years before “A New Hope” and the pair need a quick score to keep the creditors at bay. Against his better judgement, Han signs on to haul some cargo without knowing what he’s transporting.

    It turns out to be slaves.

    Unwilling to traffic in sentient freight, Han turns on his employers and sets out to make them pay. Specifically, the ten thousand credits he was promised for the job.

    Um, Mr. Solo? I think you have to complete the job to be owed payment. But never mind.

    Instead, he begins working his way up the criminal hierarchy, demanding his money like a Star Wars riff on Richard Stark’s The Hunter. The story rips along as Han follows the trail to low level thugs, corpo goon squads, space pirates, squabbling clan leaders, shadowy poisoners, and the secret beating heart of the conspiracy.

    Along the way he picks up a couple fun partners, including a mismatched pair of droids, a skip tracer determined to repo the Millenium Falcon, and a spunky junior executive who wants to expose the conspiracy to get a boost up the corporate ladder.

    Author Brian Daley may not get the acclaim of Timothy Zahn, but his Han Solo novels are consistently fun and entertaining romps. He imbues his characters with enough wit and compassion to bring them alive on the page in a way you rarely see in commercial tie-in fiction. It’s a shame we only got three of these novels from Daley. In a better world, we’d have dozens.

    Oh well. Han Solo’s Revenge is great action adventure in the wider world of Star Wars. I loved this book. It’s good, pulpy fun.

  • Han Solo at Stars’ End

    Han Solo at Stars’ End

    It’s hard to think back to a time when Star Wars was just a single movie. Maybe because I hadn’t been born yet.

    Before the Disney streaming shows, the sequel trilogy, the prequel trilogy, Clone Wars crap, the roleplaying games, the video games, the board games, the Disney rides, and a metric mountain-load of toys, there was just one film; A simple story about a farm boy with a laser sword who blows up a space station with his friends.

    Then, in 1979, that world expanded. We got our first look at what would become the Star Wars Extended Universe before The Empire Strikes back hit theaters. It was in a little book called Han Solo at Star’s End.

    Han, years before he meets up with Luke and Obi-Wan, is cooling his heels in the Corporate Sector. Think of it like the Empire, but with more red tape and business suits. He runs afoul of the law for not having his car, I mean starship, registration renewed and books it to one of his underworld contacts. She agrees to give him new fake credentials in exchange for pulling a dangerous job: Breaking some folks out of their work contract on a corpo-controlled agriworld. Without any other options, Han takes the job, and adventure ensues.

    Unlike a lot of Star Wars material, Star’s End captures the pulp serial action-adventure vibe that runs through the original film. There’s no bold, operatic battle between good and evil here. Just a fun adventure that sees Han and Chewie shooting it out with company goons, dealing with traitors in their midst, and leading an escape from an impregnable space prison.

    My favorite stuff in Star Wars has always been the little hints about the criminal underworld hiding in the corners of the frame, so this was catnip for me. I had a great time reading this. Author Brian Daley captures Han Solo’s voice so effortlessly that you can just hear Harrison Ford speaking the lines in your head.

    When I reviewed the Han Solo books by A. C. Crispin, one of my biggest complaints was that the stories failed to offer any insights into how he became the character we know. Chips on the table: This book fails to hit that mark, too. But the story was so vibrantly told with breathless excitement and energy that I didn’t have time to stop and care. Han Solo at Star’s End is a solid, entertaining slice of sci-fi adventure that makes me wish that Daley had written dozens of these books instead of just three.

    Sometimes, you just want to read about a guy with a laser gun committing crimes with his shaggy dog friend.

  • Star Wars: Rebel Dawn

    Star Wars: Rebel Dawn

    Who would have thought the best book in the Han Solo trilogy would also have the least amount of Han Solo in it?

    I’m getting ahead of myself. “Rebel Dawn” opens with Han down to his last credits after losing his ship, the Bria, in the battle of Nar Shaddaa. Never one for subtlety, Han decides to wager it all and enters a Sabacc gambling tournament.

    Elsewhere, Bria Tharen — the namesake of Han’s lost ship — is now a commander in the Rebel Alliance. She wants to attack Ylesia, the slave colony Han rescued her from two books ago. Taking over the illegal spice mining operation would give the Alliance money and troops to use in their fight against the Empire.

    Opposing her is Teroenza, the fake priest who runs Ylesia. He’s still annoyed that Han and Bria escaped all those years ago and stole treasures from his prized collection. He’s hired Boba Fett to capture them. Also, as a side hustle, he’s plotting against Durga the Hutt, who bankrolls the drug operation, because who doesn’t want to be their own boss?

    But wait, there’s more. Durga is obsessed with finding out who poisoned his father. Readers of the last book will know it was Jabba the Hutt and his uncle, Jiliac, who were plotting with Teroenza to overthrow the rival Hutt clan. Durga’s fixation draws the attention of Black Sun, a rival criminal syndicate which would love to get a foothold in Hutt space. Jabba, meanwhile, is bristling under his uncle’s stewardship, and seeks a way to become the new head of his clan.

    Whew! As you can see, there’s a lot going on in this book. Where the last two novels kept the stakes low and the focus limited, “Rebel Dawn” is epic in scale, shifting between a variety of vivid characters as the story barrels toward “Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope.” As the capper to a trilogy, it’s a doozy.

    What amazed me was how neatly the story beats all clicked into place. A. C. Crispin ends the book about one minute before Han meets Luke and Obi-Wan in the Mos Eisley Cantina. It never feels rushed or forced, but a natural progression of the story that just happens to end right before the movies begin. It’s deftly done and a credit to the author’s ability (for the opposite effect, just watch “Solo: A Star Wars Story,” which is about as subtle as a rocket propelled grenade).

    Best of all, we see the events that harden Han’s heart and turn him into the “mercenary” of the films. As George Carlin famously said, “Inside every cynic is a disappointed idealist.” Seeing how this plays out adds a great layer to an already great character. Even though we spend less time with him, we learn more, and that makes for a better read.

    Speaking of spending little time with someone: One final note. Han and Chewie visit Kashyyyk, where the Wookiee gets married, leaves, comes back, discovers he has a son, then leaves again. So, I guess Chewbacca is a deadbeat dad? Or his wife is just one understanding lady. “But,” I imagine him growling, “I owe the guy a life debt.”

    Yeah, nice try. That excuse never worked for me, either.

  • Star Wars: The Hutt Gambit

    Star Wars: The Hutt Gambit

    For my first Star Wars extended universe book in 25 years, I thought it would be fun to explore the origins of Han Solo. Disney dropped the ball when they made “Solo,” so I was eager to see what someone else would do with the material.

    The story opens with Han drinking alone in a bar, drowning his sorrows. His dreams are crushed. He’s lamenting a decision that would have made for a much better novel: While serving in the Imperial Navy, Han defied orders and saved the life of a Wookiee slave. His actions saw him stripped of rank and blacklisted from ever working as a commercial pilot.

    A character sacrificing their hopes and dreams to confront a grave injustice would be rich soil for a story to explore, but never mind. Han flies to Nar Shaddaa, the “Smuggler’s Moon,” to find work. He’s joined by the slave he rescued, a Wookiee named Chewbacca who claims to owe him a life-debt. Having seen the movies, we know he means it.

    Han reconnects with an old buddy from the academy and begins his career as a smuggler. This is a lot less exciting than it sounds. We mostly bum around with Han and Chewie as they haul cargo from one place to the next. Later, Han petitions Jabba the Hutt for work, and becomes his chauffer. Then he saves the gangster’s life during a pirate attack, which isn’t very exciting, but it goes on for a while.

    If you squint, you can see the shape of a story here. Han is rebuilding himself after a fall from grace. We witness his rise through the criminal underworld. But it feels like we are reading our way through a sequence that would be a two-minute montage in a feature film. Han meets Lando and teaches him how to fly. Han gets abducted by Boba Fett, then immediately rescued. Han dates a magician, then gets dumped. Han sees the Millenium Falcon for the first time and instantly falls in love with it, because the author has seen the movies.

    There is never an obstacle or setback that isn’t resolved three pages later.

    I complained that the first novel, “The Paradise Snare,” skipped the moments that would have really explored Han’s character. “The Hutt Gambit” has the same problem. It’s very much “tell, don’t show” kind of writing. But “Paradise Snare” at least maintained interest by pivoting in interesting directions—who would have guessed Han spent some formative years running drugs for a religious cult? “The Hutt Gambit” doesn’t have anywhere meaningful to go.

    It culminates in an epic space battle where Han rallies an army of smugglers against the Imperial Navy. It’s meant to be a showstopper. But A. C. Crispin has a hard time conveying the logistics. First, she spends an obscene amount of time with characters announcing their plans to an audience (and the readers). Then the battle itself becomes a slurry of throwaway characters and relentless pew-pew without any real stakes because we know who survives and the rest are thinly-sketched plot contrivances.

    There’s some truly terrible writing in here. Sample dialog: “Mako here. You ready?” “We’re ready!” “Go for it!” Or how about: “We’re being drawn by the moon’s gravity! In about a minute, we’re going to hit Nar Shaddaa’s energy shield! And what an explosion that would be!” Oof.

    It’s a testament to the author’s ability that the book ends up being tolerable. She captures the feeling of Han, Chewie, and Lando well enough to elevate this above bad fan fiction. But only just.

    You can tell this is intended as the middle chapter of a trilogy. We get several asides with other characters that have no relevance on the story we are reading. They are just setting the table for a payoff in the third book.

    I’m hoping that one will be better. “The Hutt Gambit” isn’t bad. But just days after finishing, I had to look up a synopsis online to even remember what happened. That’s probably not what the author intended.

  • Star Wars: The Paradise Snare

    Star Wars: The Paradise Snare

    Long before he gut-shot Greedo in a dimly lit bar and tossed a few credits to the owner to apologize for the mess, Han Solo was a young thief on the streets of Corellia. “The Paradise Snare” is his origin story — or, at least, it was. Then Disney acquired Star Wars and tossed everything from the Extended Universe into the Sarlacc pit. But never mind.

    We open with Han planning his escape from Garris Shrike, a Fagin-like crime lord who presses young orphans into service as grifters and pickpockets. Han has been scamming Corellian noblemen under Shrike’s orders for years. But he aspires to a life where he isn’t forced to commit crimes to make a living. He dreams of joining the Imperial Academy to become a real pilot. Yet he’s already an accomplished racer on his home world, and he masters any spacecraft he’s given with a deft hand. What’s left for him to learn? Is he looking to pad his resume?

    To pay his tuition, he needs to earn some money that doesn’t end up in Shrike’s pocket. So he stows away aboard a shuttle and travels to the planet Ylesia, run by a secretive religious sect in desperate need of pilots. The sect fills their coffers by selling black market spice and conscripting their pilgrims to mine it. While touring the facility, Han meets and falls for a beautiful young pilgrim. We imagine this will end poorly, since the girl is not mentioned in the movies. But how will it happen and how will this mold him into the character we know? The mystery holds our interest, but it’s not hard to guess.

    Meanwhile, the priests saddle Han with a bodyguard. It becomes apparent that he is really just there to keep an eye on Solo. Han knows he can earn the money he needs honestly (or as honestly as one can while smuggling drugs), but he could speed up the process by slipping his hand into the till. It raises the question: Does he really want to go straight? Old habits die hard. Eventually, Han discovers that the religious colony is a front for the Hutts, and he comes up with a plan to rob them and escape with the girl.

    Prequels are a hard thing to get right. The audience already knows where the story ends up, so it is up to the author to make the journey worth the trip. When done right, a prequel can cast the original stories in a new light, providing nuance and context to reshape the scenes we already know. “The Paradise Snare” fails at this. Han Solo arrives at the story fully-formed as the character we know—just younger and a bit naive. He hasn’t been struck by life’s great disappointments yet. There are no missing puzzle pieces that unlock a greater understanding of his character.

    Instead, we get a few glimmers into the events that harden Solo’s heart. There’s the death of Dewlanna, a kindly Wookiee and cook to Shrike’s crew who takes Solo under her wing. There’s no indication that she cares about the other children. But, again, never mind. We also get a brief flashback to the time Han ran away to find out what happened to his parents. The episode plays out far differently than we might expect.

    We only get a few brief asides about Solo’s childhood. I was left wondering if we’d be better served going deeper into the past. Dewlanna’s death and Solo’s hatred of Shrike are good ideas that end up carrying little weight because the characters are introduced and disappear in the first chapter. Seeing him develop from a poor street kid into a charming swindler and how his relationship develops with two vastly different parental figures would’ve made this story far more emotionally resonant.

    Instead, “The Paradise Snare” suffers from the same problem that plagues all tie-in fiction: Nothing of great importance can happen, so the story feels like glorified fan-fic. I enjoyed the novel, but it isn’t essential. There’s little here that couldn’t be inferred from reading between the lines in the original films.

    That said, the author tells a decent story that avoids all the rebel vs. empire, light vs. dark side tropes that mire the rest of the series. It feels like a small miracle that no one shows up to wave a lightsaber around. It also manages to fill in the blanks without being trite and asking questions nobody cares about, like “Solo: A Star Wars Story” did (Why is he called Solo? Because he tells an Imperial officer he is alone).

    The book also sticks the landing with a wonderful ending. For Han, it’s a personal triumph. But knowing, as we do, what Han’s future holds, it’s a poignant and bittersweet note.

  • Queen: A Chronicle of the Sibyl’s War

    Queen: A Chronicle of the Sibyl’s War

    “Here we go again,” —C-3PO, Return of the Jedi.

    Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose, and sometimes you plow through three mediocre books in thrall to the sunk cost fallacy.

    Queen is the third and final novel in the Chronicle of the Sibyl’s War trilogy. I have reviewed both of the previous novels, but here is a quick recap:

    Nicole Hammond is fighting for control of the starship Fyrantha. The Shipmasters abduct humans to repair the vessel because some humans, like Nicole, can speak to the ship telepathically to find out what needs fixing. The captured humans have accepted this for decades because the Shipmasters have a side gig selling enslaved aliens to serve as conscripted soldiers. Then Nicole came along and blew the lid off things.

    With an uprising looming, the Shipmasters bring in some of their customers to help. The Koffren, big dumb lugs who wear metal masks and carry guns loaded with spider-goo, see an opportunity to take control of the ship for themselves. Meanwhile, Nicole rallies the other slaves together to fight back. But doubt has crept in since Nicole’s plans left a character dead in the last book. I won’t spoil who, because the character was so minor that I forgot his name.

    Author Timothy Zahn has set the stage for this conflict across two books. So how does it play out? Mostly the characters just talk and talk and talk.

    At one point, I almost threw my Kindle across the room. Nicole enters a room and encounters two aliens who want the drone in her possession. The Shipmasters only feed these aliens when they capture a drone for themselves. What follows is about five pages of negotiation. Nicole will not hand over the drone, but her friends will train the aliens how to hunt for one. They explain how to take advantage of the grass and bushes. The aliens can’t follow these instructions. Nicole offers to have her friends capture another drone for them. But the aliens ask what happens if her friends are defeated in combat? Nicole’s friends say they will split up. But what of the water that bisects the room? The aliens can wait on the other side and the friends will throw it across.

    On and on it goes, until the aliens finally just lunge for the drone and the story moves on.

    There are entire conversations in this book that play out like this:

    “I will do the thing.”
    “How will you do the thing?”
    “I will perform the steps.”
    “What steps are those?”
    “I have them in a list here.”
    “Isn’t it dangerous?”
    “Not if we do it carefully.”
    “How will you be careful?”

    I could excuse some leaden dialog if the characters were interesting. Sadly, everyone is straight out of central casting. There’s the angry guy, there’s the sullen gal, there’s the schemer. Half of Nicole’s allies are tough, noble warriors ready to lay down their life for the cause.

    Nicole is supposed to be wise from her time on the streets, but Zahn refuses to give us any insight into what she has seen or done or how that informs her character. Instead, he plays coy with lines like “Not because she was squeamish about watching someone cut off someone else’s head. She’d seen far worse during her time with Trake’s gang.”

    Damn, that implies that Nicole has seen some shit. But she’s so softhearted that Zahn feels the need to remind you, again and again, that Nicole used to be in a gang. Then we we get Philadelphia gang bangers saying things like “crapadoodle” and “freaking butt wipe” and the whole flimsy construction begins to fall apart.

    I normally stay away from online theorizing, but I’ve read some suggestions that this series was a casualty of a tight deadline and publisher meddling. The rumor goes that Macmillan—which only published YA fiction from Zahn in the past—decided to market this to adults and roll the dice. I have no idea if this is true. I mean, I’m just some dweeb on the Internet. But it would explain why the story feels so toothless.

    It’s not a great excuse, though. There are ways to write young adult fiction without pulling your punches. Just look at Joe Abercrombie’s Shattered Sea series.

    Timothy Zahn is a writer of considerable talent and skill, but this time he took the night off.

    There are two back-to-back situations where the heroine seemingly walks into a trap, all is lost, and then — surprise! It was part of her plan all along. Sorry, we just left those details out to drum up some suspense. This kind of narrative trickery works great in a movie like “Ocean’s Eleven” or “Fight Club” where the rug-pull recontextualizes all the scenes that came before it. Here it just smacks of manufactured drama.

    There are even little inconsistencies, like when Nicole says there are still 12 shields that need to be fixed, and a page later, there are still “thirteen gaping holes” in their defenses. Did anybody edit this?

    Never mind.

    Overall, I found all three books underwhelming. I think there is a halfway-decent story here if an editor had condensed them into a single book. I’m left wondering why this had to be a trilogy. Did Zahn sign a contract for three books? Did he stretch his idea to fit? It reads like a draft zero, the early version of a story where an author is still figuring out the characters and plot before tightening it up.

    I’m glad this isn’t my first experience with the author. I know he can do better.

    Crapadoodle indeed.

  • Knight: A Chronicle of the Sibyl’s War

    Knight: A Chronicle of the Sibyl’s War

    When we last left Nicole Hammond, the former gang member-turned-galactic maintenance worker had just been named the protector of the starship Fyrantha. But now she has a problem. The aptly named Shipmasters suspect that their human slaves may be capable of violence.

    For decades, the captive humans kept a lid on things by pretending to only fight with their words or pool noodles or something. That’s because the Shipmasters, we discover, search the galaxy looking for new species to fight in their arenas. When a species turns out to be particularly adept at war, the Shipmasters enslave their home world and send the hapless creatures out to fight on the frontlines.

    Sadly, no one told Nicole this for plot reasons. Now the cat is out of the bag. The Shipmasters toss the humans into the arena and set them to battle amongst themselves. Their only hope is that Nicole will come up with a convoluted plan to bamboozle their overlords into thinking they made a mistake.

    Nicole heads into the arena to speak to the heads of the human factions. One group is willing to throw the fight, but the other is headed by Nicole’s maybe-ex-boyfriend Bungie, a cheap thug with poor impulse control. He’s convinced that winning the battle will grant him a one-way ticket home. Thinking was never his strong suit. Nicole then learns that there is a drug on board that could render Team Bungie unable to fight. She sets off to find it, with the Shipmasters hot on her heels.

    It begs the question: If the Shipmasters know what Nicole is up to, why even stage this conflict to begin with?

    The answer: Because without it there would be no plot.

    Here we are in book two of what is described as “A Chronicle of the Sibyl’s War.” I find the use of the word “War” to be very generous. With the first book, it felt like the entire novel was setting the table for the conflict to follow. This time, it feels like busywork to delay the inevitable. Maybe I’m just too genre savvy for my own good. It’s hard not to see where the breadcrumb trail is headed. Eventually, this story is going to blossom into a battle for control of the Fyrantha. Timothy Zahn spends much of the book laying the groundwork. There’s nothing wrong with a slow build up to a climactic showdown. But there needs to something to fill the slow march to our conclusion.

    I’d settle for some decent character development. In the 30 minutes since the first novel ended, Nicole has had a change of heart. Now she’s crabby. She spends most of the book being irritated by everyone, even her closest allies. Being likable isn’t necessary in a protagonist. But Nicole just feels petulant. It’s certainly a shift from her passivity in book one, but it doesn’t feel particularly earned or warranted. The supporting cast serve a plot function and little else.

    The biggest missed opportunity—which I touched on in my review of the first book—is that Nicole’s criminal background never feels anything more than superficial. A streetwise gang banger in a space opera is literally the promise that got me to read the first novel. But two books in, and I never really buy her as a street punk. It’s not for a lack of trying. Zahn name drops Nicole’s time in Philly or Trake’s crew about once per page. It just never amounts to much. I guess she learned how to “deal with people.” She could’ve got that as a waitress, or navigating personalities at the rotary club.

    Why did she join a gang? Did she have a choice? How does she feel about that? What did she do in the gang? Did she commit any crimes? Does she feel remorse? There’s a lot of fertile soil here that goes unused. I mean, I don’t expect HBO’s The Wire level of verisimilitude here. Not in a story with space centaurs. But getting a sense of where she came from helps contextualize where she ends up. If Zahn wants us to believe that Nicole’s time navigating gang life has prepared her for dealing with the different factions of the Fyrantha, then we need to see that arc and how it develops. Maybe it is being saved for the conclusion.

    I think sheer inertia will carry me through the final book here. I might as well see the trilogy through. But I’m glad this isn’t my first brush with Timothy Zahn. There isn’t much here that speaks to the mastery he brought to books like Icarus Hunt, Night Train to Rigel, or his Star Wars tie-ins.

    Knight and Pawn exist in that terrible middle ground of benign adequacy. There isn’t enough here to love or hate. It’s just middling. The worst criticism I can make is that days after finishing the book, I struggle to even remember it.

    Let’s hope the third time’s a charm.