Review of Fairyland by Paul McAuley

Paul McAuley is in that late stage of a career so many science fiction writers unfortunately find themselves: decent production but without the fanfare it once received. His most recent books have received middling media coverage—a far cry from 90s' McAuley, a McAuley who was one of the top dogs of British sf. One of the reasons, if not the biggest reason, was 1995's Fairyland. Standing up to the winds of time even in 2025, let's take a look.

Fairyland is the story of middle-aged, overweight biohacker Alex Sharkey. At least it begins that way. Author of many popular street drugs, he spends his days in a dim apartment cooking up bioengineered narcotics and his nights trying to repay the debts he owes a local London gangster. Stuck in the cycle, Sharkey finds himself in the unenviable position of having to create a gene splice that goes far beyond the legality of his already illegal drug manufacture. Kick starting an evolutionary leap he knew was likely but couldn't stop, London proves to be only the beginning of Sharkey's story, as soon enough the world will know of his creation.

Review of The First Wall by Gav Thorpe

Horus' approach to the heart of his ambitions started in The Solar War and landed on Terra in The Lost and the Damned. The assault on the Emperor's mountain fortress achieves a critical point in Gav Thorpe's The First Wall (2020).

Having made his way through the solar system, Horus stands at the doorstep of Terra. Below him, the Lion's Gate Spaceport sits as a meaty target. Take it over, and there is a path into the Emperor's fortress. But this is the one thing Rogal Dorne, primarch of the Imperial Fists, knows he cannot let happen. He has set up and organized defenses to repel what he thinks Horus will throw at him. In response, Horus gives Peturabo, his cleverest primarch, the task of taking the Spaceport. Let the battle begin.

Review of Deadhouse Gates by Steven Erikson

Steven Erikson's debut novel in the Malazan series, Garden of the Moon, is a tough novel to get through. A litmus test for would be readers of the series, the acid/base ratio forces readers to have the willingness to consume and process multiple plot lines and multiple pages of dramatis personae with little hand holding. The reader capacity to innumerable things churinging in RAM at one time is critical. And Erikson's erratic story-style never lets the reader keep both feet in the land of certainty. In short, the series did not stand a good chance of hitting the ground running. But enough people did pick up what Erikson was putting down, allowing Tor to move ahead with further books in the series. For those who get through Gardens of the Moon there is Deadhouse Gates (2000). Second book in the Malazan series, it's when the rubber really hits the road.

Before getting to the review, a note when reading the Malazan series: progression is not linear. Unlike George R.R. Martin, J.R.R. Tolkien, or other famous writers' fantasy series, Malazan is asynchronous. Each of the ten books must be taken individually, and not as a direct continuation of plot book to book. Certainly there are commonalities—characters, sub-plots, places, etc., but one does not feed the next. Deadhouse Gates thus does not pick up specifically where Gardens left off.

Console Corner: Review of Titan Quest

It's good sometimes to get outside your comfort zone, learn about the world, including video games—at least to some degree. (Hey, give a guy whose written a thousand review intros a little slack when he comes up with a dud...) For years I have seen internet content dedicated to isometric rpgs—dungeon crawlers where players begin with a weak hero but steadily, killing endless hordes, build them into a powerful warrior/wizard/whatever, kicking ass left and right. Having now played Titan Quest (2006) I think 'dungeon grinder' may be the better descriptor.

In Titan Quest, players take on the role of an ordinary Greek man. They literally begin the game with a club, and slowly work (aka kill) their way across a vast map, collecting better weapons, armor, talismans, etc. along the way. Killing enemies earns experience and skill points, which in turn can be used to turn the ordinary Greek man into a superhuman. And there are dozens of ways this can be done, from warrior tank to nature wizard, clever rogue to summoning master. Players progress through four regions, each of which culminates in a big boss fight that tests the player's skills to that point.

Review of Player Piano by Kurt Vonnegut

It's 2025. The Western world, and much of the non-Western world, is wholly dependent on machines, computers, and other electronics. And AI has become the #1 technological concern for the future. It's going to make humans redundant! It's going to collapse the economy by putting people out of work! Etc., etc. Turn back the clock 75 years and those concerns were directed at robots. Works like R.U.R. and War with the Newts by Karol Capek portrayed societies wherein humans become second-class citizens to robots. Tackling the topic from a broader, more corporate angle is Kurt Vonnegut's Player Piano (1952). Still relevant in 2025?

Player Piano is the story of Paul Proteus. An intelligent engineer, Paul is a key leader at Ilium Works, a production facility for electronics and robotics that automate many forms of work. Also a good employee, Paul ruffles no feathers and keeps his nose clean. At least at the beginning of the book. As things develop, Paul has increasing contact with the reeks & wrecks—the skilled men and women who have been displaced from the labor force by machines and are now at loose ends. He finds himself increasingly sympathetic to their plight, something his ambitious wife Anita hopes he will forget in pursuit of a more lucrative position at the company's Pittsburgh location.

Review of Someone to Watch over Me by Tricia Sullivan

At the pace of publishing in 2024, it's easy to not only miss good novels when they come out, but to lose sight of good novels released not so long ago. Chasing the new is a road to burnout and FOMO, and as such, it's good to sample books from throughout the history of fantastika. Published in 1997 was a little cyberpunk gem, Tricia Sullivan's Someone to Watch over Me.

Someone to Watch over Me drops the reader, on page one, into the speeding car that is the life of Adrien. And doesn't often take its foot off the gas. Experiencing a medical emergency, Adrien wants the technology in his head, out. The technology lets another person see and experience everything he does. What at first was easy money (people paying money to live vicariously through him) has become a burden, and what's more, it's causing shortness of breath, high blood pressure, and several other things. He needs help. Hailing a taxi on the streets of Zagreb, he begs the driver, a musician named Sabina, for blackmarket pharmaceuticals. And further down the rabbit hole of his own creation Adrien goes.

Console Corner: Review of The Pathless

Journey is one of my favorite video games of all time. It is not action galore, frantically mashing buttons, killin' baddies. The opposite rather, Journey is a meditative experience that “shows rather than tells” the player a quasi-zen transcendence of existence. Seeing comparisons of 2023's The Pathless to Journey, I was naturally intrigued. Zen?

Right up front, The Pathless is not Journey 2, nor does it ever intend to be. They are different games. But it's possible to see why comparisons are made. In The Pathless, players start as a robed figure only whose eyes are showing. They traverse an open world—in more ways 'open' than one—trying to locate lightstones that can be used to banish the evil brought about by a three-eyed god-man. Once three pillars are lit by the stones, an area is cleared, paving the way to a boss fight. Rinse and repeat—plus a big boss battle with the three-eyed god-man, and you... win? Play to find out. Based on this, The Pathless bears more in common with Shadow of the Colossus than Journey, but hey, I'm just a cellar-dwelling reviewer.

Console Corner: Review of Disco Elysium

STOP! If you normally come to my blog to read book reviews, do not skip this. Yes, Disco Elysium is a video game. But be aware, it's predominantly a narrative experience. The fact it is perhaps the best-written video game narrative ever should at least help you consider reading this review. (If not that, then maybe the killer title?)

Putting it lightly, the video game medium is not famed for its maturity. Of course every medium has its share of juvenile content, but video games may be the worst offender. Hand-eye coordination and onscreen interactions are what make the medium tick with aarrative almost always taking a back seat. Super Mario Bros features an Italian plumber trying to save a princess who has been kidnapped by a dinosaur protected by turtle ducks... Not quite Pulitzer material. But there are a few games out there that treat the person playing like they have an adult brain who has given thought to the layers of existence. Disco Elysium (2019) is absolutely one of them.

Review of Ludluda by Steve Beard & Jeff Noon

Gogmagog by Steve Beard and Jeff Noon was a breath of river air. I do not say 'fresh' river air. The dark mood, the edgy fantastic, the murky waters, the lurking evil (the swearing granny)—it was not a light affair. About an aging river boat captain dealing with a vegetal crisis, said swearing granny decides to guide a few ignorant tourists through the most dangerous parts of the river, in turn rekindling a rivalry with an ancient enemy. Gogmagog the first half, Ludluda (2024) is the bookend.

I'll cut to the chase. If you enjoyed Gogmagog, Ludluda will not disappoint. Same quick-pace, same offbeat imagination, same curmudgeonly Cady Meade tackling her yellow-eyed dragon. The book does spend more time on land—or at least different versions of something semi-solid underfoot. There are two excursions (more in a moment) into unexpected territory. And there is an exciting climax. But beyond this, the artistic vision and storytelling are consistent—nice, that.

Console Corner: Aiko's Choice

Shadow Tactics: Blades of the Shogun is one of the rare video games I have played through more than twice. Everybody has their gaming sweet spots, and for me this blend of stealth puzzle hits most of them. With its feudal samurai setting—cherry tees, rice fields, Japanese castles, temples, and the like—the game sings. Mimimi Games has, unfortunately since gone out of business, but before leaving the gaming scene they released a small standalone game (not technically DLC) in the setting: Aiko's Choice (2021).

Aikko's Choice features the same five characters as Blades of the Shogun, all with the same character abilities. But the game is about one-third the length: six total missions, two of which are short. What could be called a “side mission”, the story of Aiko's Choice takes place in the middle of Blades of the Shogun. A certain Lady Chiyo surprises the gang at their hideout, kidnapping Yuki and Togama in the process. Hayato, Mugen, and Aiko give chase, tracking down their friends and make sure Chiyo does not escape to tell Kage-yama of their cabal.