Dr. Greta Helsing specializes in caring for the undead, and she does it with kindness, respect and good humor. That earns my respect. This is the first in a trilogy about a fantastical world in which the undead live next door, mummies require osteopathic fixes (old bones turn to dust, you know?), and love flourishes willy nilly. Vivian Shaw sprinkles allusions and homages to vampiric and horror canons of old throughout the series, but you don't have to get all the references to enjoy the story, and when you're done with this one, there are two more.
So you've practiced your necromancy with Gideon the Ninth, navigated the Tarot Houses of The Last Sun, and you're looking for the next thing to read. Might I suggest a time warp to The Nevernight by Jay Kristoff? In an assassin's school dedicated to the Lady of Blessed Murder (of course), located on a three sunned world (harsh), Mia Corvere will have her revenge (Yes!). As the ancients say, the brighter the light, the deeper the shadow.
Who is Gideon Nav?
- Badass swordswoman
- Lover of women and smutty magazines
- Hater of wretched old necrotic nuns and skeleton armies
- Bound in servitude to a power-hungry (maybe mad?) necromancer intent on making her life a living hell
- Absolutely f-in hilarious, even when under an oath of silence by aforementioned necromancer
- Looks like she could kill you, could definitely kill you, but is also actually a cinnamon roll
- Love of my life?! (and could be yours too, if you read this AMAZING book)
This is a hilarious whirlwind of a story that follows April May an co. as they fumble their way through first alien contact, deal with unwanted internet fame, and navigate so much more than they knew they were getting into. It's funny as hell, ultimately hopeful, and full of so much heart.
Leave it to Hank Green to bringing humans living on this planet together. You won't easily forget this story.
This is a blossoming romance set among the rubble of incomprehensible destruction. This is not Doctor Who fan-fiction, nor is it the concrete, expository science fiction we're used to. This is for the dreamers who want to look through broken windows into another reality.
I’ve been struggling with how to describe this novel, other than it’s often pensive and irregularly balanced for a “dystopian” story. Finally, I came to the conclusion (after 3 pages of notes) that it needs to be read because of the struggle it shows and invokes in us. That may not be very helpful, but as stubborn and intellectual Cedar says at the start, “...maybe you’ll understand. Or not. I’ll write this anyway…” I mean...what do you record for a possible life in a world unknown to you?
Relentless adventure, extreme weirdness, gorgeous and energetic art, a dash of low humor and gore, and reverence for Things Not Seen--’Creature Tech’ is bizarre and entertaining from first page to last. In a world of increasingly ‘transgressive’ comics, TenNapel is a true subversive: at heart, under everything, a gutsy and radical traditionalist. God bless Doug TenNapel
The aliens have already packed up and left as Roadside Picnic begins, but their brief and apparently pointless visit has left the earth irrevocably altered. And in writing this brief, beguiling novel of first contact, the Strugatsky brothers forever altered the terrain of science fiction; their book has gone on to inspire successive generations of artists and writers, most famously Andrei Tarkovsky and Jeff VanderMeer.
In my mind, the thing that really makes this edition essential for science fiction readers is the forward provided by another pillar of the genre, Ursula K. Le Guin. In a few short, pithy pages, Le Guin uses the numerous possible readings of Roadside Picnic--a parable of Soviet failure? a referendum on human intelligence?--to prompt a much broader meditation on the possibilities of the genre.
Do you like the Twilight Zone? Of course you do. But you might not know Richard Matheson. And you should, because arguably the most iconic episodes were adapted from his masterfully-written short fiction. Each story is so tightly crafted as to border on pulp, each ending twists with a stinger that demands your return. If I'm on a plane: 1) I have a Richard Matheson collection in my carry on and 2) I'm not going to look at the wing of the plane. Yeah. He wrote that.
It's been years since alien bio-warfare killed off all the women on the new world, leaving the men alone with nothing but their thoughts. Literally. They call it the Noise. It is constant, it sounds like the inner voices of everyone nearby, and it is all Todd has ever known. When he senses an impossible gap in the Noise, he looks for the source, and discovers a second impossible thing: the source of the gap in the Noise is a girl. If you like post apocalyptic societies, science fiction, or nail-bitingly compulsive reads, this is for you.
