When I picked up this book, I was expecting a cheese-tastic steampunk romp through New York. That was exactly what I got with The Falling Machine.
 
It centers around Sarah, daughter of the superhero known as the Tycoon. He happens to be the leader of a steam-age Justice League. The League has a bit of a corruption and a vision problem. Unfortunately, the only ones who see this problem are Sarah, the Automaton, the Sleuth and Professor Darby.
 
First of all, It does get bonus points for mentioning the suffragettes right from the start. In addition, it mentions men who are all for women getting the vote as well (which happens to be period accurate) and there is veiled mention on successful ladies in fields other than badassery.
 
Overall, I thought that the book was terrifically cheesy. The prose seems overblown and more than a little melodramatic in places. More than a few characters are obviously taking their cues from other sources. There's some potential for more regarding what it means to be a person (via Tome the Automaton), sexism (Sarah of course), and general social discrimination (from both) but there's a lot of running around and these things got somewhat run over by the main mystery of the book. Needless to say, the prose didn't wow me overmuch. However, I kept wishing that the story had been given illustration or illuminated panels. Actually, I wanted a comic book. Preferably with art from whoever did the cover.
 
Sarah is okay as the protagonist and while some part of me went into face palm overdrive with regards to the Sleuth (on multiple fronts) I did like most of the open minded good guys. Also, given the time period WHY HAVE NONE OF THESE NUTS ROLLED TO THE LEFT SIDE OF THE CONTINENT WITH THE REST OF THEM? Sigh.
 
I did enjoy the book, but I wouldn't call it particularly thoughtful. And I still want illustrations.

Since I liked the Wee Free Men, I thought I would continue with Tiffany Achings adventures with the Nac Mac Feegle.
 
A Hat Full of Sky is about Tiffany as she begins her training in witchery. Unfortunate;y she's beeing hunted by something unpleasant and of course the Nac Mac Feegle have to try to rescue her. Unfortunately the Pictsie way of trying to stop something that cannot be seen, smelled or touched by beating it to a pulp might not be the best tactic here. But don't tell them that.

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I picked this up because I thought that the pretense sounded interesting. A library full of working magical items? I am so there.
 
So the story is about Elizabeth, a new student page at the New York Circulating Material Repository. There are some particular esoteric collections of stuff from the descendants of the Brothers Grimm, among others (don't go into the Lovecraft Collection). Needless to say, there are those who would like to abuse their lending privileges.

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As is my habit, when I find someone writing stuff I find intriguing I want more of it (hence my patience in waiting for Nick Harkaway's next book). Since the alternate history presented in Cold magic was really interesting with all kinds of far reaching effects, I went and picked up Cold Fire.

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Some might think it strange that I haven't really read “the big names” of epic fantasy. I've no real desire to read George RR Martin's doorstops or Patrick Rothfuss's material and I have stalwartly refused to read the Wheel of Time because I know my attention span (while improving) just isn't up to the task. Nonetheless, I do find things that intrigue me in the epic fantasy subgenre, without taking the road more traveled. So I decided to read Dangerous Waters.

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I love small conventions because I always end up with new additions to my list of things I really want to read. This was one of the books I picked up as a direct result.

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In the effort to break away from the overwhelming US/European cultural trend that runs rampant through so much of fantasy, I decided to start expanding my reading to a more diverse set of authors. I decided to start with Who Fears Death by Nnedi Okorafor.

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On certain rare occasions I feel the need to read a horror novel. I'm not entirely sure where that comes from, but I do enjoy old creepy horror movies a whole lot. However, when one shifts from “something went bump in the night and all the cats are hiding under the covers with me so WHAT WAS THAT?” to “um EWWWW” I find my slightly snobbish streak coming to bear with something of a groan and a desire to smack whosoever perpetrated the affront to my slightly purist and delicate sensibilities.

( needs more creepy )
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