Review: "The Galactic Mage" by John Daulton

When I first read the description of "The Galactic Mage," I was intrigued by the way it promised to combine science fiction with fantasy. It was $2.99 and got good reviews, so why not?

It starts off as two stories told side by side. On the fantasy side, Altin Meade is a sorcerer training with the preeminent sorcerer of his land. In the way his people measure magic, he's a Six, which means that he can work six of the eight kinds of magic. His strength is teleportation, which he's using to explore space. Through trial and error, he visits his planet's moon, then the planets in his solar system, and then he ventures farther afield. He's searching for signs of life, which he finds when he's attacked by what he terms "coconut monsters." Luckily, he's got magical defenses.

On the science fiction side, ensign Orli Pewter is aboard a fleet of Earth ships heading to investigate a distress signal from another planet of humans. They arrive, only to discover it's devoid of human life. No bodies, no ruined cities, no sign of civilization at all. The crew — which has been traveling for 10 years — is torn over whether they should search for the Hostiles who destroyed the Andalian civilization or return to Earth. Orli only wants to get off the ship before her life is over.

The stories unite as the characters face the same opponent; what Altin calls "coconut monsters," the fleet calls the Hostiles. They're a neat concept: a large ball of rock that floats in space and attacks by shooting lance-like portions of itself at its enemies. As they're able to avoid counterattacks nearly without fail, they're as confounding to the technologically advanced fleet as they are to medieval-age Altin.

Until I got to the end of this book, I liked it. The author managed to keep my interest as he switched back and forth between the story lines. The fantasy was detailed in all the right ways, the cast of characters that surrounded Altin was fun to read, and the system of magic was suitably complex. The science fiction was compelling, and I had a lot of sympathy for Orli as an unwilling recruit who was essentially conscripted into service when her father enlisted. Imagine if you never wanted to spend 20 years of your life on a space mission but literally had no way out.

However, this book, which started out as an improbably enjoyable hybrid, turned into something I had to force myself to finish. The dual storylines were what hooked my interest, but in the end, the way they were united killed my enjoyment.

I can't say more without revealing too much of the ending. If you want to read my specific complaint about the end, highlight the next paragraph. If not, know that I would give this book three stars because I think the first three-quarters is well-done, but I'm leery of buying another John Daulton book.

Spoilers follow: As soon as Orli and Altin lay eyes on each other, this morphs into a romance novel. Orli is smitten merely by the sight of Altin, and the feeling is mutual. They quickly fall so deeply in love that Orli becomes all but catatonic when she loses Altin. When they're reunited by proxy and her people are invited to his planet, she is granted status as the most important woman in the whole fleet, simply because she's Altin's girl. (Why that matters, considering Altin isn't depicted as having close ties to the throne, I'm not sure.) In its final pages, "The Galactic Mage" becomes an over-the-top redoing of Cinderella. There's even the queen to play the role of the fairy godmother, complete with transportation, a makeover and a ball. I'm not sure how to describe it, other than to say that the ending didn't have the same "feel" as the beginning or middle.

Left unfinished: "Ice Age" by Brian Freemantle

It's not often I stop reading a book halfway through, but I couldn't keep going on this one. 

Brian Freemantle's "Ice Age" has a promising idea: An ancient virus trapped in the polar ice is set free by global warming. The virus causes its victims to age rapidly and die within days. Knowing the lethality of the virus, first-world nations rush to get in on the research and, ergo, the potential glory of finding a cure.

Considering the news of late,  it's not that far-fetched. Too bad it's not well-written. 

I kept going past the amateurish first chapter, hoping the author would ease into a more natural way of describing situations or characterizing his cast. When reading it started to feel like work, though, I gave up. I don't have much free time, and I hate to waste any of it on something I'm not enjoying.

I can tell you one thing, having gotten as far as I did: Brian Freemantle really, really, really does not like politicians. Every character in this book - with one, possibly two exceptions in a large cast - is constantly thinking about how their actions will play in the political realm, and they're all scheming about how to use events to further their personal goals. It's tough to enjoy a story when I find myself wishing the majority of the characters would just catch the virus and die already.

I'm glad I only paid 99 cents for this one, but if you're on the fence, I'd skip it even at that price.

Review: "Resurrection" by Arwen Elys Dayton

All that Egyptology I was missing in "The Scarab"? I found it in Arwen Elys Dayton's "Resurrection."

You wouldn't think so, right off the bat. "Resurrection" starts by introducing its heroine, Pruit Pax, as she awakens from a form of hibernation. She and her partner, Niks, are on a years-long journey from their home planet, Herrod, to Earth in search of the remains of a former expedition. Their race - humans, same as you and I - is at war with a race of true aliens, and Pruit has to find technology from that previous group of explorers so her people (the Kinley) can survive. Her arrival on Earth is complicated, of course, and it's only with the help of her technology and an American dilettante named Eddie that she has any hope of succeeding.

Interspersed throughout Pruit's story are flashbacks of that first Kinley expedition, one intended to catalog the life on Earth that's so similar to life on their home planet. The crew members, who take names based on their roles in the mission, touch down in ancient Egypt. Through a combination of coincidence, bad luck and bad timing, the crew's captain is mistaken for the Egyptian god Osiris and their ship is lost.

As events in both time periods unfold, we learn how ancient Egypt managed to create such magnificently complex architectural feats as the great pyramids, how the Kinley - or some of them, anyway - survived being stranded on Earth, and how Pruit can save her race from the fate it faces.

That seems far more complex when I try to sum it up than it did when I read it, so don't let that put you off.

The sci-fi angle - in particular, the Kinley technology - is nicely done. Their planet, which is a nuclear wasteland, lacks mineable metals, so their technology has evolved around biological mediums. The beds in which the travelers hibernate are an excellent example:

There was a shift in the fluid, and in a moment she could feel it draining away. It slid off of her face, and now she could see Niks more clearly. The plantglass retracted from the top of the crib, and she felt the brush of air from the ship. It seemed too cold. All over her body, bloodarms and feedarms were gently releasing her and moving back into the wombwalls of the crib, leaving no trace on her of their presence. A reedy breatharm withdrew from her throat, and she gagged.

(Those beds, by the way, are the direct cause of one of the most heart-wrenching and credible character deaths I've ever read.)

The tie-in with ancient Egypt is entertaining, though I kept expecting that subplot to meet up with the main story again. About halfway through, the crew in ancient Egypt does take action that has significant repercussions on the future team, but then the storyline keeps going. It has its own resolution, but that culmination has no bearing on the main story. (Unless I missed something? I don't think I did, but the book was well-written enough that it's certainly possible.)

Dayton didn't leave much room for a sequel at the end, which is a shame, but hopefully she'll keep writing books in this vein.

Review: "The Scarab" by Stavros Halvatzis

Egyptology plus sci-fi? Yes, please.

Stavros Halvatzis' debut novel, "The Scarab," starts off with an excavation in Egypt that ends in a mysterious death. A billionaire stands to profit from the death, and when a college student and a washed-out journalist get wind of what the billionaire's up to, they're forced to flee to South Africa -- not so coincidentally, the very site where that billionaire has traveled to put the finishing touches on his revolutionary computer chip/program. Can Emma and Jack figure out what he's doing and get the story of the century, or will they follow in the footsteps of Emma's slain tipster?

The Egyptology angle is, admittedly, a bit of a stretch. Little of the story is related to its roots in Egypt, aside from the beginning and the imagery of one of the key characters. It's not a book for people wanting to learn more about Egypt; what it is, is a fast-moving thriller. It goes a little too fast in the beginning as Halvatzis rushes to get his characters set on their path to Africa, and the hectic pacing continues there, but it's not so unforgivably fast that it's unreadable. (I do wish the author had spent more time on character development and less time on the graphic sex scenes that didn't add to the greater story arch. Jack and Emma's relationship, in particular, rushes from just-met to having kinky sex to falling in love over the course of several days, and it's hard to buy, especially when Emma comes off as -- well, a bit loose, we'll say.)

The scene where the computer chip developers first turn on their newly programmed creation is wonderfully written:

It could feel the flow of light through its mind, feel the infinitesimal knots of space-time granules course in and through it; matter-wave, wave-matter, it cared not which. It was the photon stream and the photon stream was it. Billions of minuscule knots of light chattering, now in unison, now in counterpoint, but always to a pattern. And that pattern was consciousness.

The computer sub-plot is the novel's strength and more than makes up for the weakness of the characters. Halvatzis ties in the knowledge gleaned from the tomb raid to computer science plausibly enough for this non-computer scientist. And, after all the time characters spend talking about writing a computer program that will, essentially, be alive, I was expecting the story to culminate with a computer consciousness gone awry. That didn't happen, and the course of action Halvatzis chose works well for the plot, for the characters and, most of all, for the resolution.

Review: "This Brilliant Darkness" by Red Tash

I seem to be in the minority on "This Brilliant Darkness."

Red Tash's debut novel gets good reviews on Amazon. Four and a half stars by 21 reviewers, in fact. The description promises "a fast-paced thrilling tale of karmic struggle and suspense, magical supernatural beings, physics and sci-fi fantasy." Seemingly right up my alley.

The story is loosely focused on Christine, a university professor, as she begins experiencing bizarre, inexplicable phenomena -- hallucinations, time warps, electronic devices giving her messages, etc. Her live-in boyfriend, Tom, and her new officemate/love-triangle-third, Richard, get caught up in the weirdness. There's also a monk, a teacher's assistant, a mysterious student and a slew of ancillary characters.

Then there's the villain of the story, Greachin, who has to be read to be appreciated. Greachin is the highlight of the novel: He's part alien, part demon, part Christine's worst nightmare.

He would come at her with legends born of fear, generations of death, plague, mourning, loss, confusion. She would buckle like a stalk of dry grain in a storm. She might fight, but he'd convince her that she was overwhelmed by something evil and holy, if not by his physical prowess than with his gruesome logic. 


For reasons never clearly explained, Greachin is determined to destroy Christine. He lies in wait, stalking her, growing stronger. There is some back story for him involving a creature named Fengrid, but what I really wanted to know was, why Christine? Why is she so important to this apparently immortal force for evil? (For that matter, what was the point of the side plot with the monk who had visions of Christine and Greachin?) Few of the obvious questions in this book are answered.

Structurally, the book is all over the place. The timeline jumps back and forth, and while that may tie into the plot point of time travel, it made keeping track of the sequence of events challenging. It doesn't help that the point of view switches from character to character frequently, and it wasn't always obvious which character was serving as narrator. Having finished the novel, I'm still not clear on why the author chose to offer so many points of view.


On her website, Tash says, "It's a fast-moving story told from multiple points of view, and it doesn’t dumb itself down, so you need to be a top-notch reader to really enjoy this one, I think." I'll take exception to the implication that I'm not a top-notch reader because I didn't like her book, but Tash's statement is helpful because she makes it clear her authorial choices were intentional. As such, I would expect her subsequent work (she's planning a sequel) to have a similar style. I doubt I'll pick up any more of her books.

Review: "The Fourth Awakening" by Rod Pennington and Jeffrey A. Martin

I was predisposed to like "The Fourth Awakening." I like thrillers, I don't mind the religion angle hinted at in the blurb, and as a journalist, the protagonist's career -- investigative reporter -- caught my interest. It’s too bad the book didn’t live up to its promise.

Pennington's heroine, Penelope, is a woman adrift after her marriage ends and her children have left home. Years ago she was a hotshot investigative reporter, winning a Pulitzer for her work and then choosing family over her career. With no family life to speak of now, she's regretting that fact. When an old buddy from the Washington Post offers her a dangerous but potentially prize-winning story, she barely hesitates before jumping right in. The government has detained a billionaire, Michael Walker, for mysterious charges related to a project he was working on. Penelope interviews him and, in short order, has helped him break out of a high-security prison and gone on the run with him to his group's compound. Along the way, he tells her of his group's discovery of the coming Fourth Awakening, which will introduce a sea change to the way humanity lives. He wants Penelope to break the story of the awakening to the world. Of course, there are those who don't want that to happen.

It sounds good. The supporting facts Pennington brings into play are convincing enough that suspension of disbelief wasn't difficult. Through Walker, he details the first three "awakenings" -- the emergence of homo sapiens, man's realization of mortality and the ascendance of science over religion -- that mankind has already experienced. Walker's group has found a way to speed individuals through the fourth awakening, which he explains as akin to reaching enlightenment. This aspect of the story is the strongest and, by extension, the most interesting. Pennington ties the historical details together much like Dan Brown did in the "Da Vinci Code" -- you know it's not true, but there's enough truth there to make the read enjoyable.

If only I could have gotten past Penelope.

She's a superjournalist. Pulitzer Prize-winner extraordinaire. “The best damned investigative reporter in the world,” as she’s toasted at the end. We hear it over and over again, but there's no evidence of it, anywhere, aside from the Pulitzer. This amazing story that she breaks was handed to her by an old friend -- well, actually, by Walker, as we later find out in a discussion between Penelope and Walker:

"How did you know I was coming?"
“Because I needed you and I asked you to come.”
“You needed me and you asked me to come?”
“Yes.”

Aside from the initial effort it took her to get into the prison, she doesn't do anything to break the story. Walker and his group hand her everything she needs -- up to and including pre-written background articles on their work -- for her stories. Now, I'm a journalist myself, so I probably come at this from a different angle than the average reader, but it's ridiculous how much Penelope is praised and idolized and congratulated for sitting there and writing what she's told to write.

Not to mention the way she lets Walker control her, even picking out her clothes on several occasions. What the?

And then the story just ... ends. There's no dramatic confrontation with the bad guys (heck, I'm not even clear by the end of who the bad guys were), and the most-dramatic, most-foreshadowed arc culminated with Walker and Penelope dancing the tango in front of the rest of the supporting cast.

“The Fourth Awakening” was a quick, fun read, but I’m not rushing out to buy the sequel (“The Gathering Darkness”), and I doubt it’s a book I’ll pick up for a re-read.