thorfinn

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Review: The Cloak and Its Wizard, by R.Z. Nicolet

The Cloak and Its Wizard is a standalone (at least so far) urban fantasy superhero (sort of) novel. R.Z. Nicolet is the marketing pseudonym for Rachel Reddick. This is her first novel.

I'm picky about wizards.

The wizards themselves will complain about that, but of course I'm picky. When I choose a wizard, barring utter abandonment of moral scruples, it's a till-death-do-us-part situation. (Their death, not mine. I'm the next best thing to indestructible.)

The Cloak of Sunset and Starlight is a major artifact, meaning that it has its own preferences and is capable of independent action. It has been sitting in a glass case in the wizards' library for about a hundred years, waiting for someone interesting. (Well, mostly sitting. Occasionally it sneaks out to eavesdrop or move the books around.)

Veronica Noble is interesting. She's older than most initiates, thoughtful, observant, and clearly had some mundane career before joining the Order. Her aura is appealing, and her mental shields and resistance to influence are intriguing. Normally, the Cloak would take its time investigating a new potential wizard, but the Sword was making thoughtful rattling sounds, and no way is the Cloak going to let the Sword claim her first. Time to choose a new wizard!

It was nice, being draped over warm shoulders, and feeling a heartbeat again.

I could tell she closed her eyes without even looking.

She sighed. "I just got picked by the intransigent one, didn't I?"

The last time I picked a book from the Big Idea feature in Scalzi's Whatever blog, it didn't go that well, but if you're going to write a book specifically for me, I'm going to read it. There are very few tropes of SFF that I love more than intelligent companion objects, and Nicolet's introduction to the story was compelling. So I gave this book discovery method another chance.

I'm glad I did, because this was exactly what I was in the mood for and a delight from cover to cover.

Veronica Noble is not a typical wizard. She's a surgeon and was quite happy to be a surgeon until an unexpected encounter with a magical creature killed her brother. The forgetting spell that the wizards who came to handle the Cassandra wyrm didn't work on her, so she was dragged reluctantly into the secret magical world of the Order. This long-lived society of wizards quietly defends the world against magical intrusions from other planes of existence. Now she's a wizard with a magical cloak, which she is not at all sure she wants.

Veronica is not the protagonist, though. The Cloak of Sunset and Starlight is. As far as it is concerned, its job is to assist its wizard, enjoy watching interesting feats of magic, and look fabulous doing so. It's protective, dramatic, rather vain, endlessly curious, easily bored, and intensely loyal. When it becomes clear that the Order has some serious problems, the Cloak knows what side it's on.

This sounds a bit like urban fantasy, so I was surprised when the first superheroes showed up, although given the explicit Doctor Strange inspiration I probably should have expected them. The Order and the superheroes do not mix, at least at the start of the novel. The wizards view the superheroes as a loud and irritating intrusion and hide magical activities from them the same as they do the rest of the world. Veronica's opening opinion on superheroes is based on being a trauma surgeon in a hospital dealing with the aftermath of their fights (which makes me wonder if the author has read Hench, although the idea is older than that book). As with the Order, the role of superheroes in this world gets more complicated as the plot develops.

There is a surprising amount of plot and some very nice world-building here, including multiple twists that I was not expecting. Veronica is the sort of stubborn and deeply ethical person who will not leave a problem alone if she has the ability to fix it, which is a good recipe for getting deeper and deeper into a complex plot. She's believable as a surgeon: somewhat taciturn, calm in emergencies, detail-oriented, methodical, and not at all dramatic. This makes the Cloak a perfect foil and complement. Watching their partnership develop was very satisfying.

This is a sidekick novel, and like the best sidekick novels it makes the not-protagonist more interesting and more relatable by showing them from an outside and skewed perspective. Piecing together what Veronica must be thinking is part of the fun, as is sharing the Cloak's protectiveness towards her as it becomes clear how much she's been through and how good of a person she is. The Cloak's personality was a little too much like a cat for me — I would have preferred a more unique viewpoint, fewer cat-coded shenanigans, and a bit less of the running laundry machine joke. But that's a quibble. Its endless curiosity drives the plot forward and uncovers more of the world-building, and I just love reading stories from the perspective of this sort of loyal and protective magical creature.

I had so much fun with this book. It's a popcorn sort of book, and I thought the ending sputtered a little, but overall it was great. Parts of it could have been designed in a lab to appeal to me specifically, so I'm not sure if other people will enjoy it as much, but its hit rate with my friends so far has been good.

Highly recommended, and I will be watching for any further novels from Nicolet.

The Cloak and Its Wizard reaches a satisfying conclusion and doesn't advertise itself as part of a series, but there is room for a sequel. If Nicolet ever writes one, I'd read it.

Rating: 8 out of 10

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Review: The Sovereign, by C.L. Clark

The Sovereign is the third and concluding book of C.L. Clark's Magic of the Lost high fantasy trilogy. I recommend reading the books of this series close together, since there are a lot of characters and a lot of continuity between books that is helpful to remember, but it was not quite as difficult this time to remember where the story left off.

At the end of The Faithless, the political situation in Balladaire (not-France) was more stable, but the threat of a plague lay on the horizon. That threat arrives in earnest in this book, along with new threats from both Balladaire's former colonial conscript soldiers and from neighboring Taargen (not-Germany, sort of, although the parallel isn't as close). Luca and Touraine have finally admitted that they're deeply in love, but they are still very different people with different goals and ethics. Luca is determined to do anything necessary to save her kingdom, but her definition of her kingdom is sharp and brittle. Touraine is torn between far too many loyalties, plus the lingering worry that her morals and Luca's may not be compatible.

I think the hardest part of this sort of series is finding an ending the reader will find satisfying. This one, unfortunately, did not work for me, but that may be more due to personal preference than objective flaws.

There have been two threads through this series: an improbable romance embedded in a network of complex personal relationships, and a political commentary on colonialism and post-colonial wars. I was enjoying the former, but it was the latter that felt fresh and interesting to me. The plot threads in The Faithless outside of Balladaire expanded that complexity, and I was hoping the final volume would continue in that direction. How could a colonial power atone for its history? How does the former colony establish its own governance? Is there a path to freedom without violence? Are attempts to chart a more moral course doomed to open lines of attack for one's other enemies?

It's clear that Clark was thinking about similar themes, but The Sovereign narrows the field instead of widens it, restricts the political options, and then resolves most questions in a massive war. This is not that surprising of a conclusion, but it's one that I found unsatisfying and, honestly, a little boring. Yes, one way to resolve all the competing tensions is for everyone to try to kill each other and whoever survives wins, and historically that's one of the more likely outcomes, but that ending doesn't wrestle with the politics as much as it collapses them.

Clark instead focuses this concluding volume on the romance, which becomes even more fraught, tragic, and dramatic than it was in previous books (and that's saying something). The hard questions of divided loyalties and moral conflicts are mostly framed by questions about Touraine's loyalty to Luca and Luca's trust of Touraine. This is all very Shakespearean, full of hard choices, sudden reversals, miscommunication, and a very deep conflict between Luca's realpolitik and Touraine's stubborn personal morality. If this is what you were reading the series for, if you were hoping for a maximum-drama sapphic relationship, you may thoroughly enjoy this. I thought it had its moments, but I wish they had been balanced by more moments of cool-headed practicality and creative political ingenuity.

My biggest frustration with this ending is that the characters largely stop doing politics. The political complexity was the strength of both The Unbroken and The Faithless: People who intensely dislike each other negotiate because there is something larger to be gained, personal decisions made without considering the political ramifications have costs, and multiple characters are trying hard to find a way to turn a nasty, exploitative world into something better without simply killing everyone who disagrees. Many of the characters were objectively bad at politics, inexperienced and immature, but they stumbled or dragged or fought their way into political solutions anyway. I thought Clark moved too far away from that in The Sovereign. Everyone goes deep into their own emotions and desire for vengeance or conquest or revolution and stops compromising. To a depressingly large extent, the story is resolved by killing everyone who disagrees. I think the story is poorer for it.

One of the other threads of the series is Balladairan magic, or rather its odd absence. Luca has one understanding of it, the rebels introduced in The Faithless have a different understanding of it, and its pursuit is set up as critical to resolving the threat of a plague. We do get an explanation of sorts, but it's not as complete or as satisfying as I was hoping, and the symbolism of Balladaire's missing magic is left frustratingly murky. For me, this has some of the same problems as the political conclusion: I wanted an intellectual catharsis alongside the emotional catharsis, but that was not the direction Clark was taking the story.

I like reading about these characters. All of Luca, Touraine, and Pruett are complex, comprehensible, flawed, and often intriguing. But my favorite character in the story, the person I latched on to as an emotional path through the story, was Sabine. Her refreshingly straightforward loyalty and lack of drama was a breath of fresh air. She has some great moments in this book, but there too I got wrong-footed by the direction Clark went with her arc and found its conclusion deeply unsatisfying.

I'm not sure how many of these complaints are because of missed opportunities in the novel, how many were due to a mismatch of taste, and how many were due to not being in the right mood to read this conclusion. I'm sure that it didn't help that I read this simultaneous with another novel in which the characters were always miserable, or that I read it in early 2026 with, uh, all that entails. I suspect that if you came away from the first two books invested in the messy romance and wanting MOAR DRAMA, you may get exactly what you were hoping for. That, sadly, was not what I was hoping for.

I can't really recommend this. I thought it dragged in places and didn't deliver the ending I wanted. But it has some great moments, it does wrap up the threads of the trilogy as advertised, and at least the romance gets a dramatic climax worthy of the tension that has been built through the previous books. If that matches what you were enjoying in the previous books, you may well enjoy this more than I did.

Rating: 5 out of 10

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Review: A Shadow in Summer, by Daniel Abraham

A Shadow in Summer is a high fantasy novel, the first of (as the name implies) a completed four-book series. Daniel Abraham is perhaps better known as half of the writing pair behind James S.A. Corey, author of the Expanse series. This was his first novel.

Otah was the sixth son of a Khai, sent like many of the unwanted later children of the powerful to learn the secrets of the andat and be trained as a poet. He learned his lessons well enough to reject the school and its teachings and walk away.

Amat Kyaan has worked her way up from nothing to become the senior overseer of the foreign Galtic House Wilsin in the sun-drenched port city of Saraykeht. Liat is her apprentice, distracted by young love. Maati is a new apprentice poet, having endured his training and sent to learn from Heshai how to eventually hold the andat Removing-The-Part-That-Continues, better known as Seedless. None of them know they will find themselves entangled in a plot to destroy the poet of Saraykeht and, through him, the city's most potent economic tool.

A poet in this world is not what we would think of a poet. They are, in essence, magical slave-drivers who capture the essence of an andat, a spirit embodying an idea that is coerced into the prison of volition and obedience by the poet. The andat Seedless, the embodiment of the concept of removing the spark of life, is central to the economic wealth of Saraykeht in a way that is startling in its simplicity: Seedless can remove the seeds from a warehouse full of cotton at a thought. This gives Saraykeht a massive productivity advantage in the cotton trade.

Seedless is also a powerful potential weapon. What he can do to cotton, he could as easily do to any other crop, or to people. The Galts are not fond of the independence and power of Saraykeht, but as long as the city controls a powerful andat, they do not dare to attack it directly. Indirectly, though... that's another matter.

This is one of those fantasy novels with meticulous and thoughtful world-building, careful and evocative prose, and a complex ensemble cast of interesting characters that the novel then attempts to make utterly miserable and complicit in their own misery. There should be a name for this style of writing. It's not tragedy because the ending is not tragic, precisely. It's not magic realism; the andats are openly magical, which makes this clearly high fantasy. But Abraham approaches the story from the type of realist frame that considers the pain and desperation of the characters to be more interesting than their ability to overcome challenges.

Amat starts the story as an admirable, sharp-witted expert manager, so her life is destroyed and she's subjected to sexual violence. Heshai loathes himself and veers between a tragic figure and a wastrel as the story systematically undermines opportunities for redemption. Maati is young and idealistic, so of course every character in the book sets out to crush his idealism under the weight of unforeseen consequences. There is a sad and depressing love triangle, because this is exactly the sort of book that has a sad and depressing love triangle. At the end of the novel, everyone who survives is older and wiser in the sense that some stories seem to think wisdom comes from the accumulation of trauma.

I find books like this so immensely frustrating because their merits are so clear. The world-building is careful and detailed in a way that includes economic systems, unlike so much fantasy. It is full of small, intriguing touches, such as the use of posture and gesture to communicate the emotional valence of one's words. Abraham understands the moral implications of poets and andats and the story tackles them head-on. The writing flows beautifully and gave me a strong sense of the city. I wanted to like this book for the obvious skill that went into it, and sometimes I even managed.

And yet, it's taken me three months to finish A Shadow in Summer because I simply do not want to spend this much time around miserable people. I would get through one or two chapters in a night and then wanted to read something happy or defiant or heroic, rather than watching slow-motion train wrecks intermixed with desperate attempts to navigate stifling layers of immoral systems. It's not that the story lacks a moral compass. The characters are sincerely trying to make the world a better place, with some success. It even delivers a happy ending of sorts. But so much of the journey was watching the lives of the characters fall apart.

I am completely unsurprised that some people loved this book. I'm still intrigued enough by the world-building that I'm half-tempted to try to read the sequel even after having to drag myself through this one. I had a similar reaction to Abraham's The Dragon's Path, though, so I think Abraham is just not for me. I may get back to the Expanse at some point, but having to drag myself through both of his solo novels I've tried, in two different series, probably indicates an incompatibility between author and reader. That's a shame, given the quality of the writing.

Followed by A Betrayal in Winter.

Content notes: Sexual and reproductive violence as significant plot elements.

Rating: 6 out of 10

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Review: Dark Class, by Michelle Diener

Dark Class is the fifth novel (not counting the skippable novella) in Michelle Diener's Class 5 romantic science fiction series. As with the previous novels, this follows romance series conventions: There are new protagonists, but characters from the previous books make an appearance. It's helpful but not that necessary to remember the details of the previous books; the necessary background is explained enough to follow the story.

By now, series readers know the formula. Yet another Earth woman was secretly abducted by the Tecran, encounters a Class 5 ship, and finds a way to be surprisingly dangerous and politically destabilizing. This time, Ellie has been mostly unconscious since her abduction and awakes in a secret Tecran base after the Tecran have all been murdered. There is a Class 5 AI involved, but not a full ship; instead, Dark Class picks up (or, arguably, manufactures) a loose end from Dark Minds. Other than that break from the formula, you know what to expected by now: a hunky Grih, a tricky political standoff, a protective Class 5, a slow-burn romance, and a surprisingly capable protagonist who upends politics through plucky grit and refusal to tolerate poor treatment. Oh, and a new selection of salvaged clothing and weapons to make Ellie beautiful and surprisingly dangerous.

If you are this far into the series, you probably like the formula. That's my position. I don't care about the romance, but something about the prisoner to threat evolution of the kidnapped protagonists and the growing friendship with an AI makes me happy. This is not great literature, but it is reliably entertaining with a guaranteed victorious protagonist and happy ending, making it a comfortable break from more difficult books with emotionally wrenching scenes.

Dark Class is one of the better executions of the formula because it has long stretches of my favorite parts of these books: exploration of mostly-abandoned surroundings for neat gadgets while the AI and the protagonist slowly build a relationship of mutual respect. This book has bonus drones with minds of their own and an enigmatic alien spaceship that provides a fun mid-novel twist. The Tecran and the Grih repeatedly underestimate Ellie and are caught by surprise at dramatically satisfying moments. It's just fun to read, and I save this series for when I need that type of book.

As with the other books of the series, Diener's writing is serviceable but not great. She repeats herself, uses way too many paragraph breaks for emphasis, and is not going to win any literary awards for prose quality. The series is in the upper half of self-published works, and I've certainly read worse, but either the formula will click with you or it won't. If it doesn't, the prose is not going to salvage the book.

There is some development of the series plot, but it's mostly predictable fallout from Dark Matters. This book is mostly tactical and smaller in scale. I am a little curious where Diener is going with political developments, since the accumulated Earth women and Class 5 ships are in some danger of becoming a sort of shadow government through sheer military power, but I'm dubious this series will have enough political sophistication to dig into the implications. It's best enjoyed as small-scale episodic wish fulfillment for female protagonists, and that's good enough for me.

If you've read this far in the series, recommended; this is one of the stronger entries.

Followed by Collision Course, which breaks the title convention for the series.

Rating: 7 out of 10

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