Reviews :: Book Rating :: Books that are Mediocre

It seems like my social media feeds have been getting slammed lately by ads for this new anthology of science fiction stories put together by Amazon. Almost seemed to double in frequency after I got them, oddly enough. Sometimes it just boggles my mind how much money must flow through the coffers of social media ads, and I can’t help but wonder how much of it goes to absolute waste. In this case, it got me to pick them up, but everything since then? Yeah.

You’ll notice that our image doesn’t match the name of the collection. Yup. Thank you e-book collections. So, instead I just included the cover for the best story in the group. Hint hint. Wink wink. Nudge nudge.
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This is one of those reads that I took on a whim. Prior to it, I hadn’t come across this author or any of his books. Taking a quick look at his back log, he’s put out quite a few, across a surprising number of genres. Found out after the read, that this book had been part of the first year of the Self-Published Science Fiction Competition, which I thought was pretty cool. Although, after seeing online how voraciously the author tackles the concepts of self-publication and marketing, it didn’t surprise me in the slightest that he would have been one of those to throw his hat into the ring that first year. In my opinion, he pushes the boundaries, in many respects, as to what can be accomplished as a self-published author. Smart dude for sure.
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When I saw the announcement for this anthology, I was totally on board. After my experience with SHADOWED SOULS (EBR Review), which was also edited by Jim Butcher and Kerrie Hughes, how could I *not* immediately want to read something new from them? Granted, yes, it has a new Dresden Files story, and I am absolutely a sucker for anything Dresden these days, but even outside of the Dresden story in SHADOWED (which was AWESOME), nearly every story in that group was simply great reading.
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I’m an unabashed fan of Daniel Abraham’s work. He’s one of those for which I will literally buy anything I can get my hands on. He has a way of telling stories that resonates with me. Whether it be through epic fantasy, urban fantasy, science fiction, or anything else, it consistently feels as if the man can do no wrong.

He’s said before that with each project, he sets forth with a certain goal in mind, and I can’t say that such goals have ever seemed to be at the forefront of his prose, for me. I think that’s one of the great things about his work. I can read them and enjoy the story and the characters without having to understand the author’s purpose. If he has a purpose, great. I don’t necessarily need to know what that is.

This time around however, the read left me wondering for the first time, what his motivation might have been when sitting down to pen this new novel of fantasy. Because, whatever it was, I kinda don’t get it.
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Once upon a time, there was a boy named David, and he did everything to keep his mother alive. So begins THE BOOK OF LOST THINGS by John Connelly, the story of a 12-year-old boy who tries to escape a life of trauma and disappointment only to discover that fairytales aren’t all they’re cracked up to be.
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If you’re looking for a book that focuses on character development, then STATION 11 is the book for you.

Or maybe plot isn’t so important and you like meandering through a setting that is both familiar and foreign.

It may also be that you like books with elements that don’t seem important to the plot as a greater whole OR maybe you find satisfaction with plodding through 280 pages before you start seeing the connections between the characters and plot points.

If this is the case, you might just enjoy STATION 11. Alas, those aren’t the kinds of things I look for in a book. I definitely wasn’t the target audience.
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A while ago we published a new page on the site that listed out a few handfuls of books that we thought were the best examples of fantasy fiction to be had (EBR Page). One of the comments we received on that page suggested that our list was missing this exact book. I have to admit that I wasn’t particularly enthralled by the cover or the title though, and so I passed it by as I did so many others that just didn’t tickle my fancy.

Recently, however, the audiobook was released, and so I figured that I might as well give it a go. After all, I’m always up for another suggestion of a great read.

Turns out, I probably should have just passed it by.
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The other day I was admiring the long stretch of Mark Lawrence books on my bookshelves, and I realized just how many great stories this guy has pumped out for us in the last decade. He’s currently working on closing out his fifth trilogy–that’s pretty impressive, given the timeline–and so much of what he’s brought to the table has just been awesome. If you haven’t checked his books out yet (EBR Archive), you should.

However, I have to admit that I felt somewhat trepidatious (an adjective that Wordpress’s spellchecker apparently doesn’t recognize) in approaching this next book. The first book in the series, while entertaining, had a few aspects to it that made me worry about the evolution of the story to come. Where it might go. How it might tackle the perspectives it was trying to bring together.

And I’m afraid that my concerns ended up being quite justified.
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I came across this book in an interesting way. Responded to a tweet that Pierce Brown had made, and afterward realized that he’d just been responding to another guy. The initial tweet had been something along the lines of “I don’t need to read anything from [list of golden age SF authors here] and anyone saying that I should is absolutely insane”. Afterward, it only took a little investigation to find out that this other guy just happened to have recently released his first, traditionally published novel through Gollancz. So, of course he was taking the opportunity to get on his soapbox to try and cast a little shade where he could.

Sigh.

Still, I thought that the introduction made for a relatively interesting case study. I mean, if the guy was able to sit down and write a killer story, then maybe he was right, and he *didn’t* need to read that older SF. Maybe he’d be perfectly fine as a science fiction author by just reading the current stuff.

So, I bought his novel. And thus, the game was afoot.
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I’ve been in a real funk lately. I know. Join the club, right? It seems like no matter which direction I turn, there’s always some new disappointment waiting to greet me. Hello, 2020. If I had any choice in the matter, and I could pick a single thing that this year might have left alone, it would have been my books. Yes, I know this is ludicrous. There’s no need to remind me of the fact that books published this year have long been completed, and that 2020 did nothing to affect them in the slightest. And yet. After reading this book, I’m seriously beginning to think that some part of me has been broken. It just doesn’t seem possible that my impressions of the story contained therein might be valid. Like in the slightest. But in the end, they are at least consistent in their nature, and for that I’m still holding onto the hope (barely) that something more will come of my current epic disappointment with The Age of Madness.
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