Book Review - The Name of the Star, by Maureen Johnson

I came from the 2011 ALA Annual Conference in New Orleans with literally dozens of advance reader copies, and had the nice problem of trying to figure out which one to read first. I had a chance to meet Maureen Johnson while I was there, and she was one of the friendliest authors I had the privilege of talking to. So, I started following her Twitter feed, and if you don’t follow her, you really should. She’s manic and adorable, and I couldn't help but decide to read Name of the Star first. I’m glad I did, because even with a few hiccups, this is a great start to what looks to be a fantastic YA series.

This first entry in Johnson’s new Shades of London series introduces Rory Deveaux, a Louisiana teenager who comes to England with her parents and enters a boarding school in London. Coinciding with her arrival is a spree of murders that are eerily reminiscent of those committed by London’s most famous serial killer: Jack the Ripper. Rory tries to adjust to her new surroundings, but London has become a surreal carnival of glee and fear, with “Ripper mania” spawning macabre parties, thronging vigils, and 24/7 news coverage. The grim mystery gets deeper when Rory realizes that she spoke to a sinister man at the scene of one the murders that nobody else could see, even when he was in plain sight. Still trying to make sense of being an American in England, Rory quickly finds herself overwhelmed by the discovery of a rare ability, which draws a whole lot of attention. Attention from those who want to help her, but also from the Ripper himself.

It must be said at the beginning that the general setting doesn't really fall outside of what readers might have seen before. It’s a British boarding school, with quirky roommates, mean girls, and a cute boy with a hot British accent. That almost qualifies as a subgenre, by now. Also, a few early twists are apparent a mile away to anyone who has seen the Sixth Sense (but, let’s be honest, that group is mostly comprised of people like me: thirty-somethings who are increasingly panicked about no longer being the arbiters of pop culture). And Ripper stories are always fascinating... seriously, always... but they are also prolific.

So it speaks highly of Johnson’s talent that this well-trodden path is so fun to walk down. The opening chapter grabs you immediately, and the beginning exposition is suffused with atmospheric tension. It also helps that Rory is such a likeable character; she has just the right mix of humor, awkwardness, and angst. Perfectly believable, and wholly sympathetic. Rory’s snark and self-effacing humility is a fantastic counterpoint to the rising tension and bloody attacks as the Ripper re-enacts the famous 19th-century rampage, ensuring that the story never falls too far on one side or the other of the drama/comedy spectrum. The setting is evocative and immersive; both the interiors and exteriors of this book's London resonate in the imagination, because they are written with an easy realism and an effortless eye for important detail.

The book heads in a different direction around halfway through, when Rory finally begins to understand what she can do and what that really means. This is where the story steps away from being a Jack the Ripper story, and determinedly sets up the larger Shades of London series premise. It’s a delicate moment, being the place most likely to lose readers who have been glued to the story so far, but I felt that Johnson handled it masterfully. The brooding tension that permeates the first half isn't lost, and Rory seamlessly moves from the boarding school into the wider, scarier world. Most importantly, though, Johnson keeps hot on the main mystery's heels while setting up the series, ensuring that this remains a strong standalone novel.

There are two minor quibbles I had with the book. At one point, the villain gets excessively monologue-y, which is a pet peeve of mine that I can never get over. The rest of the exposition was so good that it made that one "now I shall reveal my plan!" moment excessively grating. Also, for as much as Rory is smart, resourceful, and brave, she never really moves past being a perpetual damsel-in-distress until the very last moment. She spends the book being guarded, hunted, manipulated, herded, and being forced into uncomfortable situations, and even though there are plenty of moments that exemplify her innate strength, she spends too much time being at the mercy of her environment. To be fair, this could be attributed to overall tone of the book: unfamiliar school, unfamiliar city, unfamiliar culture, and, uh, unfamiliar ghosts. Still, I kind of waited for a definitive "Rory starts to kick ass" part of the story that never really came.

Both of these little issues are redeemed by a fantastic ending that wraps up the mystery nicely, but still leaves the reader with a tantalizing cliffhanger that sets up Rory's future exploits. It actually reminded me of the ending format that most Doctor Who episodes use (coincidence, considering the Amy Pond reference in the book? I THINK NOT). The Name of the Star pulls double duty as a gripping novel and as a series introduction with aplomb.

A word of warning: this is dark YA! *dramatic music* You know, because there's murders, and darkness, and making out, and everything is really foggy and whatnot! So, steer clear if you don't want your precious angel reading about subjects they might discover in other things you presumably don't let them read, like history books, or the newspaper. Otherwise, this is definitely one to check out once it hits shelves. The first Shades of London book is a great read, and I'm excited to see where the series goes from here.

Verdict: 4 / 5

Book Review - Cordelia's Honor, by Lois McMaster Bujold

Let’s all agree on this right up front: the covers of the Vorkosigan Saga books are horrible. Just plain awful. The cover art for anything published by Baen is pretty bad, enough to make even the proud nerds of today cringe and place the book face-down whenever possible to avoid being snickered at. But these covers in particular, with their dramatic poses and odd retro fonts, seem to house a strange breed of quasi-historical space pulp that embodies everything that “serious readers” should avoid. And that’s a damned shame, because Bujold writes fantastic, accessible science fiction. Were I to browse this by cover instead of trying out a no-frills ebook version, I may well have never discovered it.

I’ll try to stick to well-known details, but there are a few mild spoilers here if you want to fly completely blind. Cordelia’s Honor is an omnibus, comprising two separately published novels: Shards of Honor and Barrayar. These two books represent the first chronological stories in the sprawling Vorkosigan Saga, and begin a generation before the introduction of that saga’s hero, Miles. Shards of Honor begins with Betan explorer Captain Cordelia Naismith, attempting to chart a new, unclaimed world. Her party is surprised and attacked by a squad of the warlike Barryarans, and she barely escapes with her life. She finds herself lost on an unfamiliar planet, and thanks to a mutiny within the Barryaran ranks, she is forced to rely on a gruff Barrayaran outcast named Aral Vorkosigan, better known to her people as the Butcher of Komarr. She comes to know him better than she would ever have guessed during their ordeal in the wild, and their understanding of one another becomes crucial when they meet again, once the reason for the Barrayarans' presence on the untouched world becomes clear and their respective peoples stand on the brink of a brutal war.

The second book, Barrayar, picks up on the titular planet. Having forsaken her homeworld of Beta Colony after her unpleasant homecoming, Cordelia attempts to build a peaceful life with her new husband and the eventual birth of their son. However, after the Barrayaran emperor dies, Aral Vorkosigan finds himself manipulated into being the regent for the child heir, and thus a prime target for those lusting after the child heir’s power. An attempted assassination has dire consequences for Cordelia’s unborn child, and before she and Aral can gain their balance, a Barrayaran noble launches an insurrection and attempts to seize control of the empire through force. Cordelia, loath to accept the responsibilities placed on her by political momentum, must decide how far she is willing to go to rescue her fledgling family, and how much she should compromise her personal ethics in order to do so.

This is the second collected omnibus of sequential novels that I’ve read in the past year (third if you count graphic novels), and I’m starting to notice a distinct feeling that the novels contained within such volumes work a lot better together than they do apart. I can’t decide whether that’s a psychosomatic thing that’s brought on by there being so many pages left after getting through one book; I finished Shards of Honor feeling like more should have happened, and glad that I had a second half to move on to. In retrospect, I think that has everything to do with Bujold’s writing style, and I’m pretty sure I would have liked each book on its own, had I approached them that way. These books are referred to as a “saga,” and that’s an appropriate label. This is the first entry in a space opera that spans great distances, unravels intricate political intrigues, and narrates epic battles, but it’s immediately clear that the books are first and foremost about the characters. The saga follows the rise and fall of its players, and the landmark events in the plot provide the catalyst and backdrop for the landmark changes in the character arcs. This is what makes these books transcend pulp sci-fi and confirms them as a great choice for anyone who wants to read a good story.

There are a couple of snags, though. The characters are pitch-perfect, but their dialogue can get a little awkward from time to time. The narration is also a little odd, as well, especially in Shards of Honor. Bujold tends to get a little informal with the narrative voice, occasionally letting Cordelia’s sardonic humor bleed into the exposition and narration. Compounding this problem is the lack of italics or any other device to differentiate character thoughts in the first book, making the whole story feel a little slapdash. There was apparently a fair amount of time between the publication of the first book of this story arc and the second, and it definitely shows; Barrayar is much more tightly plotted, better paced, and efficiently narrated than Shards of Honor, displaying Bujold’s evolution as an author between the two stories. Standing as a testament to her talent, however, the joining of the actual story is seamless and natural.

I am to understand that the Vorkosigan books don’t really get going until we get into the exploits of Miles Vorkosigan, but as a newcomer to the series, I found this book to be a wonderful introduction to this particular world(s) and set of characters. It gives insight into the politics and technology of two distinct planets without seeming either contrived or confusing, leaving plenty of room to get to know wonderfully nuanced characters like Cordelia, Aral, Droushnakovi, and my favorite, Bothari. This gets a solid recommendation to any science fiction reader that puts a premium on good characters.

Verdict: 4 / 5

Graphic Novel Review - Penny Arcade Volume 6: The Halls Below, by Jerry Holkins and Mike Krahulik

I’ve been a dedicated Penny Arcade reader since before they were Internet rock stars with their own convention, children’s charity, webseries, and video games. As such, it’s not so odd that I’ve only picked up a print version of the comic at the publication of book six, seeing as how I’ve already read every single strip. Should I feel the urge to go back and reread, these strips are still all available for free online. The value of this book is in the added features, just as it would be for a DVD: new commentaries on each comic, slick packaging (though not as slick as previous editions, I am told), and extra content at the end. I’m an enthusiastic fan, so I’m pretty easy to please, but these added features should be enough to sway any fan of the series.

This is not a graphic novel, but a more traditional collection of comic strips with occasional spurts of continuity. For the uninitiated, Penny Arcade is a hilariously crass webcomic that revolves around two gamer protagonists, Gabe and Tycho, along with a revolving misfit cast of recurring characters. Gabe and Tycho are rough analogs of the two personalities behind the comic: artist Mike Krahulik and writer Jerry Holkins, respectively. The humor is a little inside; working knowledge of gaming culture and at least a passing familiarity with current gaming news is usually necessary to get the jokes, though there are occasional exceptions. However, the often obscene strips have a lot to offer for anybody who has an appreciation for the absurd, especially if you enjoy dark sarcasm, snappy dialogue (Holkins/Tycho is an unabashed logophile that uses a symphonic vocabulary both in the strip and in the accompanying commentary), or, well, poop jokes.

This volume collects all the strips published in 2005, and although I think 2004’s bouquet might be a little more piquant, this was a pretty good year for Penny Arcade and its readers. I’m especially fond of Krahulik’s art in this period, although I think that might just be nostalgia talking. Penny Arcade has existed for over a decade now, and the artwork has evolved along with Krahulik over that period. The latest change has occurred in the past year or so, with the characters beginning to look increasingly like they were drawn by John Kricfalusi. Now, I will concede that it is a fascinating exercise to watch an artist try new things and incorporate their various influences into their work as they mature. But I’ve never liked John Kricfalusi's artwork, and so I’m feeling a little sullen about the new look. This book covers the heyday of the clean, angular art that drew so many people to Penny Arcade in the first place, and I really enjoy the novelty of having prints from that time period, if not for entirely objective reasons.

The actual content from this year included more hits than misses, and introduced more than one long-standing character or meme. The Merch is a notable exception, but I’m heartened by Holkins’ commentaries on these strips, which seem to indicate that he was as skeptical of that particular angle as I was. Balancing that out in this volume are two classic, fantastic subplots: Annarchy, and the Elemenstor Saga. The first involves a rare bit of story continuity revolving around Tycho’s eleven-year-old niece Ann, providing a surprisingly funny and poignant take on both Tycho and on Penny Arcade’s general content. Annarchy is living proof that a warm, fuzzy teddy bear lives deep inside a lot of cynical, foul-mouthed gamers like me. The second started as an obscure one-off comic and sparse wiki, and through the machinations of the Penny Arcade fanbase became a sprawling faux-franchise, allegedly covering over a dozen novels, two animated series, and a collectible card game. This meta-narrative is admittedly a little hard to appreciate, being that it lives mostly outside of the actual comic and is purposefully obtuse and ridiculous. However, anybody that has ever read a licensed fantasy novel or attempted to immerse themselves in the lore of an RPG or CCG will find this absolutely hilarious. The premium content at the back of the book is devoted to the Elemenstor Saga, consisting of an introduction to the joke’s concept and some excerpts of the vast fan-authored wiki page. My only disappointment is that The Halls Below doesn’t really cover the second half of this enormous in-joke: the rival “franchise” Song of the Sorcelator, and its flamboyant mastermind, L. H. Franzibald. Yes, it's as funny as it sounds.

It’s kind of hard to recommend this to curious readers who aren’t already familiar with Penny Arcade, since the actual website is the best place for that. But speaking as a longtime fan of the strip, this is a nice little curio, and worth buying just for the additional commentary on each strip.

Verdict: 5 / 5

Book Review - His Majesty's Dragon, by Naomi Novik

I think that most of the fantasy I’ve been reading lately has been taking itself quite seriously. Lots of death, sex, political intrigue, and bleak futures. The first book in Novik’s Temeraire series is exactly what I needed: a fresh take on a well-worn fantasy trope that doesn’t need high-minded literary aspirations due to it being so fun to read. Not to say that it isn’t literary either; His Majesty’s Dragon is a pretty great work of fantasy fiction.

This first book introduces the reader to William Lawrence, a sea captain in the Royal Navy. The books take place in an alternate version of Europe during the Napoleonic Wars, where dragons not only exist but are fairly common, and a key element of most nations’ military forces. After a quick battle with a weakened French ship, Lawrence recovers a prize of great value: a dragon egg, ready to hatch. The intelligent animal unexpectedly picks Lawrence to bond with; duty compels Lawrence to leave his beloved ship and become an aviator, simply for the sake of putting another British dragon in the skies. However, his initial reluctance to leave his sheltered life as an officer and gentleman to become a social pariah (as most aviators usually are in this England) quickly fades, as he begins to form his own bond with the unique black dragon, who he has named Temeraire after the famous Royal ship of the line. Lawrence and Temeraire’s training progresses quickly due to the dragon’s extraordinary intelligence and unique flying abilities, but a clever plan by Napoleon to invade England forces them into action, and unveils some startling truths about what Temeraire is and where he came from.

The entire book rests on the relationship between Lawrence and Temeraire, and it does so comfortably. Both are excellent, sympathetic characters. Lawrence’s stilted manners and fish-out-of-water naiveté contrasts perfectly with Temeraire’s wide-eyed innocence and occasional childish enthusiasm, making them an easy pair to like and root for. Admittedly, though, their relationship does take some getting used to. Between the histrionics each goes into at any perceived threat towards the other and Lawrence’s baffling tendency to refer to Temeraire as “my dear,” there are some initial overtones of gay man-dragon love. But as the book progresses, Novik does a fantastic job of defining the strong, unique relationships between the captains and their sentient dragons. I perceived it as a mix of the feelings a person would have towards a child and a particularly loved pet. In any event, once the initial “wtf?” feeling wears off, it is written well enough to make some of the scenes between the dragons and their respective people heart-wrenching, if occasionally too sentimental.

As with any good alternate history that takes place in wartime, the battles are the highlights of this book. Novik eschews the “dragon-rider” approach, and instead puts forth the notion that dragons can support actual crews of various sizes, who operate much like naval crews of the time would. Thus, each battle scene mixes the tense, orderly progression of a naval clash with the chaos of aerial warfare. Also, we’re talking about dragons that can do cool dragon things like spit acid and claw things apart. It really doesn’t get much cooler than that.

The story is probably the weakest element of the book, in that it’s understated and doesn’t take a whole lot of surprising turns. This book has a distinct “introductory” feel, meaning that the establishment of the characters takes precedence over the actual plot. This doesn’t actually cause any problems for the majority of the book, since the world and characters are so interesting that the story shines in a bit of their reflected light. However, the ending retains that simplicity; once the final twist is revealed, everything resolves itself with simplicity that strains credulity. Considering the buildup to the climactic scenes, I simply don’t buy how things turned out.

The ending was almost unsatisfying enough for me to knock a point off, but I had so much fun reading this book that I decided to let it go. This is good, solid fantasy. I’ve never been a dragon guy; I’ll admit to never having read a Pern book despite being a longtime sci-fi and fantasy reader. So, I can’t really speak to how His Majesty’s Dragon holds up to other books in the dragon genre, assuming that there is such a thing as a “dragon genre.” But I can overwhelmingly recommend this book for fantasy readers, alternate history readers, and those with a penchant for wartime or historical fiction that don’t mind some flights of fancy. I’ve already bought the next two; I’m sold.

Verdict: 5 / 5

Graphic Novel Review: Kill Shakespeare Vol. 1, by Conor McCreery, Andy Belanger, and Anthony Del Col

I heard about this graphic novel on NPR, which made my responsible adult side feel better about reading graphic novels, and my inner child feel better about listening to NPR. Being what I’d call a casual fan of Shakespeare, it sounded like something that would be right up my alley. After reading through the first volume, I can say that I like it, but it’s not as good as I was hoping it would be.

The story picks up somewhere around the third act of Hamlet, with the Danish prince sailing off into exile rather than being sung to his rest by flights of angels. After being haunted by some familiar witches, he is cast overboard and finds himself on a strange, faraway shore, where he is greeted by everyone’s favorite gruff king with a withered hand. Richard III proclaims Hamlet to be the “Shadow King,” a figure spoken of in legend that is destined to kill a mysterious demigod known as “Shakespeare” and claim the power of his magical quill. Richard promises to bring Hamlet’s father back to him if he fulfills his destiny, but Hamlet eventually finds himself lost and alone in the countryside. A loose band of commoners opposed to Richard’s tyranny (including Falstaff, Othello, and Juliet) try to persuade Hamlet to join them, as Richard conspires with the seductive Lady Macbeth to bring the Shadow King back into his grasp.

So, the riot of Shakespeare characters assuming new personas and taking sides is enough by itself to make this volume worth checking out. I suppose that you could find yourself annoyed by the liberties taken with the Bard’s stories if you were a diehard Shakespeare nut, but I thought the reimagined relationships and alliances were deliciously fun to read. Furthermore, the proper Shakespearean tone has been set; gratuitous violence, sexual innuendo, and bad puns are all firmly in evidence.

Once the initial awesome factor wore off, though, a few things began to bother me. The story moves so quickly that there isn’t a whole lot of time to take anything in. There is a lot of reliance on the numerous cameos to move the story along (I'm not even sure why the scene with Puck was even remotely necessary), and so the plot feels a little clunky and contrived. Not to the point of being bad, but there’s definitely a “serial” feel to the volume.

The biggest problem I had, though, is with the artwork. I don’t usually get hung up on art, being the forgiving guy that I am. But honestly, I had trouble trying to puzzle out exactly what was going on at some points. The flow of the panels will often change unexpectedly, without any particular narrative reason or clearly defined map of the proceedings, forcing me to occasionally reread a few panels after getting lost. Also, abrupt shifts in setting are frequent in each chapter (especially after Hamlet takes up with the Prodigals and the narrative splits off into two branches), making it occasionally hard to figure out what’s happening even when the panel flow stays consistent. Finally, and maybe this is just me: there’s something off about the faces. The expressions are not quite real. The characters are gorgeous, and standard dialogue looks just fine, but every single reaction shot looks waaaaay overdone. As in, giant eyes, gaping mouth, parody-of-an-actual-facial-expression overdone. I feel like I’m being a touch unfair, here, because the art is very good from a technical standpoint; Belanger is no slouch. But something about the expressions just didn’t resonate for me. The characters came off as a little cartoonish, somehow. That normally wouldn’t bother me, but in this instance it just contrasted too much with the Shakespearean motif.

So, chalk this one up as a solid "acceptable," for me. Maybe not fantastic, but still pretty good.

Verdict: 3 / 5

Book Review - Zombies vs. Unicorns, ed. by Holly Black and Justine Larbalestier

Zombies or unicorns: which is superior?!

It’s the…

…the eternal question… ?

The title and premise of the collection was enough to attract my interest. Of course, zombies are better. I mean, seriously, unicorns? Does that even need to be explained? I had to get more on the particulars of that debate. Also, I was goaded into action after reading about somebody somewhere that tried to get this book off of a library shelf, because it allegedly features a gay zombie and unicorn bestiality. Awesome, right? Turns out, there is indeed a gay zombie (who stars in one of the best stories in the collection), and unicorn-boning is marginally more creepy than zombie-boning, which if not technically present is at least heavily implied. With that established, I can wholeheartedly vouch for this entire collection. Even the unicorn-boning.

The collection is edited by two YA authors, Holly Black and Justine Larbalestier. The stories are introduced with their respective commentaries on the debate, with Black establishing herself as a unicorn enthusiast contrasted to Larbalestier’s steadfast support for the undead. Each has enlisted a team of like-minded YA authors to support their cause, which include rock stars like Garth Nix, Scott Westerfeld, Meg Cabot, and Libba Bray, among others. Each team’s stories are then presented in alternating order, with little icons at the top to denote their respective content/allegiances. Furthermore, the editors preface each story with a mix of folkloric background and hilarious snarking at each other.

So, obviously, zombies win, but the unicorn stories are fantastic. Between zombies being the paranormal flavor of the week and the existence of an exhaustive back-catalog of zombie fare, the edgy takes on unicorns were fresh and interesting by comparison. In fact, my favorite story in the collection was Kathleen Duey’s tale of an amoral beast searching for release from its instincts.

Generally speaking, though, the zombie stories are just as original and interesting. Libba Bray’s entry, the final story in the collection, is fantastic enough to demand its own full-length novel. And while I may have my issues with Carrie Ryan’s sulky, mascara-running zombie poutfests, she’s in fantastic form here. Maybe it has something to do with time of exposure, for me; what came off as unnecessary angst in her otherwise great novels seemed to enhance the grim, bittersweet mood in her short story.

The collection has the same peaks and valleys in consistency that all short-story compilations have to deal with, but while there were one or two stories here that didn’t really do anything for me, there’s nothing that I would categorize as weak or not pulling its weight, even when comparing to the ones I liked. Both teams perform admirably, and are likely to make unexpected fans of readers that venture in with their preconceived notions firmly entrenched. Furthermore, this is definitely a book that is meant for older teens, as it deals with some pretty mature themes. By extension, it’s a perfect choice for adult readers who enjoy plot-centric teen lit, if the cast of contributing authors isn’t enough to convince you.

It must be said that, as a thirty-year-old man, carrying around a book called Zombies vs. Unicorns isn’t something I’d normally be proud of, and the instinct to proclaim its virtues would usually be curbed in place of quietly admitting it as a guilty pleasure. Further, it must be said that this isn’t anything that’s going to blow a reader’s mind. But this collection is too much fun. I couldn’t even bring myself to search for nits to pick like I usually do, because I was too busy enjoying tales about killer unicorns and the zombie apocalypse. I guess I could complain about this weird obsession that paranormal and urban fantasy authors have with interspecies romance, but honestly, that’s barely even surprising at this point. This collection is obviously not for readers who take themselves or their books too seriously, but I’d recommend it to anybody who likes zombies, teen lit, fantasy, or just has a taste for something offbeat. It’s hilarious and genuinely creepy by turns, and it's crewed by a seriously talented group of authors.

Verdict: 5 / 5

Teen Booklist - Mysteries

I spent May getting ready for Summer Reading, and was out of bright ideas for teen displays, so I settled on a time-tested genre display. I've never been much of a mystery reader, but inheriting a mystery book club has expanded my horizons a bit, and this list reflects that. I tried to include a little from different mystery subtypes: whodunits, thrillers, paranormal mysteries, fiction with mystery overtones, and of course, the ever-popular "problem novels" that happen to include a mystery as a central plot point.

• The Murder of Roger Ackroyd, by Agatha Christie
• The Mysteries of Sherlock Holmes, by Arthur Conan Doyle
• Shine, by Lauren Myracle
• The Dark Days of Hamburger Halpin, by Josh Berk
• Pretty Little Liars, by Sara Shepard
• Lily Dale: Awakening, by Wendy Corsi Staub
• The Christopher Killer, by Alane Ferguson
• Hoot, by Carl Hiaasen
• All Unquiet Things, by Anna Jarzab
• Acceleration, by Graham MacNamee
• Eye of the Crow, by Shane Peacock
• The Uninvited, by Tim Wynne-Jones
• Kill Game, by Francine Pascal
• The Big Splash, by Jack D. Ferraiolo
• Last Shot: A Final Four Mystery, by John Feinstein
• I, Q: Independence Hall, by Roland Smith
• Finding Lubchenko, by Michael Simmons
• Kiki Strike: Inside the Shadow City, by Kirsten Miller
• The Agency: A Spy in the House, by Y. S. Lee
• The Falconer's Knot, by Mary Hoffman
• Rosebush, by Michele Jaffe
• Searching for Yesterday, by Valerie Sherrard
• The Bone Magician, by F. E. Higgins
• Kiss Me Kill Me, by Lauren Henderson
• Canned, by Alex Shearer
• The Death Collector, by Justin Richards
• The Chaos Code, by Justin Richards
• Paper Daughter, by Jeanette Ingold
• Dream Girl, by Lauren Mechling
• Agnes Quill: An Anthology of Mystery, edited
• The Mystery of the Third Lucretia, by Susan Runholt
• Torchwood: Another Life, by Peter Anghelides
• Endymion Spring, by Matthew Skelton
• Jack: Secret Histories, by F. Paul Wilson
• Res Judicata, by Vicki Grant
• Beautiful Dead: Jonas, by Eden Maguire
• The Hanging Woods, by Scott Loring Sanders
• Getting the Girl: A Guide to Private Investigation, Surveillance, and Cookery, by Susan Juby