Tag: Fantasy

Flash Fiction: A Vision of What Might Have Been

There wasn’t always a castle on the hill. The seed was planted many years ago. A warc carried a stone, a vision of what might have been, and buried it six inches below the surface of the earth.

The warc covered it with loose soil, its gritted, gnarled hands clawing desperately at the ground.

A vision of what might have been.

The castle grew over time, stones assembling themselves piece by piece, year on year. The locals in the village below watched with curiosity, waking every morning to see it risen slightly higher. None ever saw the workman. They went to bed and woke each morning feeling just a little safer.

It was just what the warc had wanted. A gift for the village, unsolicited, but earned.

The warc stepped backwards through time. The journey is linear, and to a creature that appears more branch and moss than flesh and bone, it is the correct and only direction.

So to see what might have been is, for a warc, to see and anticipate the future.

And the walk backwards, step by step, is, for those whose feet go against that flow, to see the future with utmost clarity.

The villagers did not survive the strangers, who arrived one night carrying torches and flame, and put to waste thatch roofs and wooden walls. They took with them wheat and mutton and stores of fresh water. And carried on their quest.

It was an important quest, of that they were certain, but the details matter not. To the villagers, the quest meant nothing; and yet they perished at its hand, and valiantly. They fought against the tide, with pitchforks and sharpened poles, but to no avail. They were swept out to a starless sea.

The warc watched, and was moved by what it saw. And so it vowed to reward the villagers for their bravery. A stone was fashioned such that it would bless the village with strength and fortitude. A place for them to retreat.

And so it was that the stone was planted.

And, so it was, that a hundred years hence, in the deep past of the warc’s journey, as time flowed back against the grain of its footprints, the villagers retreated to the walls of this castle at the first sign of flame.

And the thatch roofs burned, and the wheat and mutton was taken, but the villagers, brave as they were in that vision of what might have been, lived long enough to rebuild their homes and replenish their stocks.

And they cursed the strangers who rode through their lands. But they knew not the vision of what might have been, for to them the castle had always been there, a steadfast relic of generations gone.

10th Jul 2026
Book Review: The Dungeon Anarchist’s Cookbook

Downward to floor four! We join Carl, Princess Donut, and Katia in the Iron Tangle, an impossible and complicated subway system with thousands of intersecting railway lines. It’s like someone based it on a bowl of spaghetti they dropped on the floor. The routes are a claustrophobic mess, and the trains are, of course, full of monsters.

Each book in this series finds a new way to frame the dungeon, and the Iron Tangle is one of Dinniman’s more ambitious settings. It’s also not my favourite. There’s an inherent constraint to a train-based floor that the previous book’s more open, expansive world didn’t have. It doesn’t give the characters as much room to manoeuvre.

That said, this is an enjoyable read. The plot unfolds at a steady pace, with exciting set pieces and a central mystery that gradually reveals itself. In particular, we have ominous revelations about the Krakaren that feel like pieces of something much larger clicking into place. Of all the monsters, the mantaurs are a highlight. They’re physically odd, but it’s their Viking-esque obsession with dying gloriously in battle that gives them a layer of dark humour that stuck out to me.

The titular cookbook is a clever device. Past crawlers passing their hard-won wisdom to Carl adds depth and intrigue. The talk show epilogues continue to be one of the series’ most distinctive features. They offer a way of stepping back from the dungeon action to reflect on what’s happened and seed what’s coming. It may feel like a bit exposition heavy to some, but it works for me.

The characters remain the central draw to this series. A highlight here is Katia. Her doppelganger ability to reshape her body leads to some memorably creative (and gory) problem solving. It’s her stint as a makeshift cowcatcher on the front of a train that stands out. It’s just the right blend of seriousness and absurdity. The only shame is that Mordecai disappears for most of the book!

The previous book has been my favourite of the series so far, but The Dungeon Anarchist’s Cookbook remains an entertaining instalment that keeps the larger story moving in an intriguing direction. Onwards to the next floor!

3rd Jul 2026
Book Review: Carl’s Doomsday Scenario

And down we go to floor three with Carl and Princess Donut! This is where things get real…

This is a great follow-up to Dungeon Crawler Carl that picks up right where we left off from book one. Earth has collapsed into an intergalactic dungeon crawl set up by extraterrestrial companies as part of some universe-wide capitalist hellscape.

Safe to say, things are more dangerous, and just a tad complicated.

If the first book was about establishing a world and proving its concept, Carl’s Doomsday Scenario is about deepening it. Dinniman writes well and with confidence, with characters you can’t help but fall deeper in love with.

The heart of this book is the quest system. On floor three, crawlers have the option to engage in quests, which serve a quirky soap opera style addition to the crawl. NPCs have scripted storylines that run parallel to the activities of crawlers. This adds a new dimension to the world.

As a narrative device, quests become a vehicle for exploring Carl’s empathy and fundamental decency. We see that his instinct, even in a system designed to brutalise, is to help people. And it’s through these moments that we get a window into Carl’s character. We get glimpses into his background and upbringing, which hints at something being built here for later in the series.

Mongo, the velociraptor introduced at the tail end of book one, gets significantly more page time here, and I’m down for every minute. The creature brings out a new side to Princess Donut, a kind of maternal streak that adds warmth and depth. Mordecai, too, continues to grow into one of the most enjoyable characters in the series, with his wise and world-weary demeanor.

The action is more intense and considerably gorier than the first book. Think Fallout’s VATS system with the gore setting turned on. Safe to say, Dinniman doesn’t hold back! But it’s not just all guns blazing action; solutions to problems feel creative, and give the book the same air of freedom you get when playing dungeons and dragons, where solutions are logical but often unexpected.

The wider universe continues to expand in interesting ways too. The politics beyond the dungeon get murkier and more compelling, and the sense that Carl and Donut are pieces in a much larger game is growing.

Carl’s Doomsday Scenario is an excellent sequel. It gives you what you loved from book one while raising the stakes and bringing in new elements. All the while, it still feels like the best is yet to come!

19th Jun 2026
Book Review: Dungeon Crawler Carl

Carl is a former member of the Coast Guard who, along with Princess Donut (his ex-girlfriend’s cat) survives the rather sudden transformation of Earth into an eighteen-level dungeon. And it turns out it’s not just a dungeon; it’s an intergalactic reality TV show!

Let’s get something out of the way. Yes, this book is worth the hype. Yes, if you like sci fi and fantasy with heart and humour, you’ll probably like Dungeon Crawler Carl. The book is a heady blend of Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, The Hunger Games, and Dungeons & Dragons. The humour is irreverent and at times absurd, but the story has heart and emotional weight.

For a start, it’s well written. Dinniman does the basics well. Details introduced early in the story reappear later with satisfying pay off. The dungeon is well-designed, with cool mechanics and layout. And there’s a vast world outside the dungeon that’s strongly hinted at. It has depth in its politics, corporations, and inhabitants, all of which feel richly conceived. The use of TV talk shows as a device for revealing what’s happening beyond the dungeon walls works really well as a technique.

The characters are brilliant. Carl and Princess Donut are both excellent. They’re funny and loveable, and their dynamic carries the book when the stakes are both low and high.

And I don’t normally comment on the medium of my book consumption, but I feel a special mention is needed for the audiobook, which is very well produced. Jeff Hays’ narration adds texture and personality to the story, and in many ways elevates and adds to the experience.

So, yes, I recommend this. At the time of writing this review, I’m already on book 3… which probably tells you all you need to know!

13th Jun 2026
Flash Fiction: The Tomb and the Broom

I entered the tomb.

In the room of the tomb was a broom.

The broom was sweeping the floor.

The floor was poor.

The flaw of the floor was its scores of doors.

They were trap doors, of course.

Not traps for rats or cats, but traps hidden under mats.

I lifted a trap and found stairs.

Stairs to where, I did not care.

Descending the stairs, I entered a lair.

I said a silent prayer.

For in the lair was the mayor.

The hair of the mayor was fair, his stare austere.

What he said as he turned his head filled me with dread.

He said, ‘Hi, I’m Fred. And I’m dead.’

Dead Fred led me to a shed, that he said contained a bed.

In the bed was Ted.

So he said.

But Ted had fled the bed and in his stead was Theodore.

It was Theodore under the door in the floor, in Fred’s bed where Ted was led, in the lair of the mayor, oh so austere.

It was not what I thought I would find.

Not that I ought to mind.

For I entered the tomb and looked through the gloom for a magical broom that could sweep a whole room.

5th Jun 2026
Book Review: Spell or High Water

In the follow-on to Off to Be the Wizard, we head with Martin and Philip to Atlantis, the island refuge where the women who find the magical computer file go. It is a flourishing paradise run by Brit the Elder, Brit the Younger (they’re the same person), and Ida. An attempt on Brit the Younger’s life (and thus, implicitly, Brit the Elder’s) puts Martin at the heart of a zany mystery.

For me, I felt like Meyer is finding his footing more in this book. The humour is confident and consistent, capturing a silly tone with characters in absurd situations, balanced against genuine stakes with real consequences.

The mystery at the heart of the story unfolds nicely, with enough surprises along the way. Meyer also takes a structural risk by switching perspectives, and it pays off. It opens up the world and gives the narrative more texture without losing momentum. In particular, Jimmy returns, along with the two hapless agents who (for better or worse) continue their ‘good cop, bad cop’ routine. Seeing their perspective adds to the broader intrigue and suspense.

At the conceptual heart of the book is time travel. This was hand-waved away in the first book but gets more attention here. Competing interpretations of how time travel works are how stakes are raised in this murder mystery. The nature of time travel is explored in a way that serves the plot. (Because if Brit the Elder is here, that’s proof Brit the Younger can’t be killed… or is it??)

Jimmy remains one of the more compelling characters in the series. He’s complex, unpredictable, and never quite what you expect. My one reservation is Martin and Gwen’s relationship, which feels a little forced. It’s not particularly clear why they’re into each other.

This is a minor note in an otherwise enjoyable read, and it doesn’t significantly detract from a sequel that provides an entertaining extension of Meyer’s geek culture-inspired world.

23rd May 2026
Book Review: Off to Be the Wizard

Martin Banks is an unremarkable young man until he discovers something extraordinary: a file that appears to contain the source code of reality itself! Naturally, he does what you or I might do; he uses it to give himself more money. When this attracts the wrong kind of attention, he takes the next logical step and flees to medieval England to live as a wizard. Here he meets Philip and a host of other men from the future who all had a similar backstory.

Off to Be the Wizard is a lot of fun. Meyer keeps the time travel logic deliberately light rather than getting bogged down too much in the mechanics. This is, at its heart, a comedy adventure, and Meyer, to the benefit of the story, keeps things moving.

Scattered throughout are some lighthearted nods to nerd culture, with references that make sense for the characters and the book. It also handles its notably male-dominated world pretty well, wherein women who discover the file are redirected to Atlantis rather than staying in the ‘historical’ past. This is a neat solution that acknowledges the uncomfortable reality that women practising magic has rarely ended well across history.

But what impressed me most is how Meyer smuggles in some genuinely weighty themes, such as free will versus determinism and nihilism, without ever losing the lighthearted energy that makes the book so enjoyable. The plot structure also makes this feel earned. The early sections focus on Martin finding his feet among the wizards, but there are hints placed carefully along the way that build toward something darker. By the time the real conflict emerges, Martin’s growth feels genuine and purposeful.

The characters are brilliant, all memorable and (mostly) likeable, even comic book-style villain Jimmy, and the comedic moments land well. Off to Be the Wizard is a very enjoyable read and it gets a hearty recommend from me!

9th May 2026
Book Review: Red Seas Under Red Skies

I really enjoyed Scott Lynch’s The Lies of Locke Lamora so I had to follow it up by reading Red Seas Under Red Skies.Being back in the world with Locke and Jean felt like reconnecting with old friends; it had the kind of comfort that comes from reentering a rich fantasy word. And, as hoped, Lynch wastes no time throwing them into another elaborate scheme that goes spectacularly sideways.

The pacing hits the same sweet spot that made the first book work so well. Just when I thought I had figured out where the plot was heading, something would happen that sent everything spinning in a new direction. The core structure mirrors the first book: a carefully planned con that gets derailed by forces much bigger than our protagonists. But it never feels repetitive.

Like many of the books I love, this one has pirates. And it’s clear the author did his homework. The use of period-accurate nautical terminology (hearing ‘larboard’ instead of the more familiar ‘port’ was a nice touch) and historical elements like the mock trials that actually happened aboard pirate ships made the maritime world feel authentic and lived-in. And the characters populating this world continue to be one of the series greatest strengths. They’re diverse and genuinely interesting.

In this second instalment, the protagonists find themselves poisoned, with their antagonist leading them on with an antidote. This drives the narrative forward and creates a sense of urgency, and also allows the author to resolve lingering threads from the first book while leaving some untied for the next.

If you enjoyed the first Gentleman Bastard book, this is an easy recommendation. Lynch has crafted a sequel that expands the world without losing what made the original special.

2nd May 2026
Book Review: Godkiller

Kissen’s family were killed by zealots of a fire god. Now, she makes a living killing gods, and enjoys it. That is until she finds a god she cannot kill: Skedi, a god of white lies, has somehow bound himself to a young noble, and they are both on the run from unknown assassins.

What immediately drew me in to Hannah Kaner’s Godkiller was the way she conceptualises the gods. In this world, gods are born from human belief and need. The more people worship them, the stronger they become. It’s both simple and complex in how it works, with a symbiotic system that creates genuine stakes for both mortals and deities. It was interesting to explore how this dynamic shaped everything from village politics to divine hierarchies.

The relationship between Kissen (the godkiller herself) and young Inara, the young noble tied to Skedi, anchors the story well. Their unlikely partnership (the woman who destroys gods paired with a girl who might be tied to one) creates natural tension. Watching their bond develop as they navigate this dangerous world together was another highlight of the book.

The prose is the kind of prose that gets the job done, and the dialogue serves its purpose. In a sense it’s good that the writing doesn’t get in the way of the story (that can be an issue with some books where writers can be a little self-indulgent with their flare!). But I could have done with maybe a little more imagery and metaphor to bring the scenes to life.

That being said, the story is well structured. The pacing doesn’t drag and the plot progression feels logical and well thought out. Each revelation builds naturally on what came before, and I never felt lost or confused about the world’s rules or the characters’ motivations.

And the worldbuilding really is Godkiller’s strongest suit. Beyond just the god creation concept, Godkiller has a setting that feels authentic. The political tensions, the way different regions handle their divine relationships, the consequences of godkilling, it all hangs together convincingly. This was enough to make it an enjoyable read.

4th Apr 2026
Book Review: A Wizard of Earthsea

Ursula Le Guin’s A Wizard of Earthsea is a cornerstone of fantasy literature… is it bad that it took me a while to fully connect with it?

What did I love about it? Well, it was the world building that hooked me. Earthsea is an expansive and rich archipelago world, filled with distinct cultures, peoples, and creatures. We follow Ged, a gifted young wizard, on an adventure across Earthsea’s different islands, and get to know the people he encounters. The voyages by boat feel treacherous in the way that seafaring adventures should, and the maritime setting lends to the atmosphere. The magic system, too, is mystical and complex. Built around the true names and fundamental nature of things, it has a beautiful sense of knowledge and responsibility.

Ged is a well-crafted protagonist. He’s cocky, talented, and absolutely believable as a teenager who thinks he knows everything. His catastrophic mistake early in the story (summoning a shadow creature while showing off) feels earned by his character, and watching him grapple with the consequences as he matures gives the book proper emotional weight. I wanted him to get some comeuppance early on, and it was gratifying when he did!

But I struggled with Le Guin’s writing style, especially in the opening sections. It reads more like a historical chronicle rather than an intimate character study. We’re told about Ged’s actions and development, but we don’t really feel his journey, at least not at first. This made it difficult for me to root for him initially. The writing does become more engaging as the story progresses, particularly when Ged interacts with his friend Vetch and we get more genuine character moments.

You can see A Wizard of Earthsea in the DNA of modern fantasy: the archipelago setting finds itself in Katherine Rundell’s Impossible Creatures, the power of names in Patrick Rothfuss’s Name of the Wind, and the issues with shapeshifting in Terry Pratchett’s Equal Rites. It is undeniably important, but it requires a specific mood and patience with its more… distant narrative style. I’m glad I read it for the perspective it gives on the genre, though I’m probably not going to rush back to Earthsea soon.

15th Mar 2026