Peter R. S. Thomas

Tag: literature

  • Book Review: The Dungeon Anarchist’s Cookbook

    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!

  • Book Review: Carl’s Doomsday Scenario

    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!

  • Book Review: Starter Villain

    Book Review: Starter Villain

    Charlie Fitzer is a down-on-his-luck teacher with a mounting pile of problems when he unexpectedly inherits his estranged uncle’s business empire. The catch? His uncle was a supervillain. Suddenly thrust into a world of criminal syndicates and secret lairs, Charlie has to figure out not just how to survive, but whether he wants anything to do with this at all!

    Starter Villain is pacy and entertaining, and it sure packs a lot into its modest page count. For a reasonably short book there’s a lot in here. The mechanics of how villain enterprises actually function, the flow of money, the politics of organised crime, are all really well thought through. It makes it grounded, and dare I say plausible, even as it becomes more outlandish.

    And outlandish it certainly is! Negotiations with dolphin labour unions, confrontations with crime lords… a network of sentient cats operating as spies! This is excellent satire that’s well tied to real stakes. It works precisely because the world feels both ridiculous and believable at the same time.

    The characters are distinct and credible, and Charlie himself is an engaging protagonist. He’s ordinary enough to be relatable and resourceful enough to be worth following. And the plot has enough twists to keep you on your toes without ever feeling contrived.

    Part of what I loved about Starter Villain is that it’s a complete, standalone novel. There’s no loose threads or unresolved arcs. In this way, it’s very satisfying. Compelling plot and excellent satire, all packed into one easily digestible novel! What’s not to love?

  • Book Review: The Great Gatsby and Brideshead Revisited

    Book Review: The Great Gatsby and Brideshead Revisited

    I’ve just finished reading The Great Gatsby for the first time, and yes, I can see why it’s become a classic of American literature. The underlying themes, the gradual reveal of the Gatsby’s elusive past, the inevitable tragedy, are subtle and enduring. It reminded me of Brideshead Revisited in a way. The tragic nature of wealth, the decay beneath all that glitz and glamour—Gatsby is to American literature what Brideshead is to English.

    Both are narrated by outside observers, Nick Carraway (Gatsby) and Charles Ryder (Brideshead). And both of these men are drawn into the world of wealth from modest backgrounds, and both are simultaneously invested and detached in what they see. Nick establishes a relationship with Jordan Baker, a socialite part of Gatsby’s world, and Charles with Julia, the sister of Sebastian Flyte. And both watch as Gatsby and Sebastian struggle through their personal issues.

    Those observed are haunted in their own way by their past. Gatsby is obsessed with Daisy Buchanan, while Sebastian and his family are consumed by their heritage, the death of the English nobility and struggling Catholic traditions. And Gatsby and Sebastian’s family are both eventually consumed—Gatsby is killed following the attempted renewal of his relationship with Daisy, and Sebastian descends into alcoholism.

    But there are, of course, key differences. Brideshead’s driving theme is the Catholic religion and English aristocracy; Gatsby’s is the American Dream, a quasi-religion in itself, I suppose, and chased with similar fervour. Fitzgerald critiques a particular form of social mobility and how it can be achieved, and amidst this the hidden classes that define American society, while Waugh explores, with nostalgia, the decline of English nobility, its relationship to faith, education, and tradition. Significantly, wealth, for Gatsby, comes from questionable means, and for the Flytes, wealth is inherited and comes with its own obligations. But, of course, wealth ends up destroying them both, and the people they love.

    Do these differences reveal the contrasting nature of English and American societies? Or do they simply represent the differing perspectives of their authors on the nature of wealth and status? There’s something of both, clearly, in this. But regardless, both are significant reads.

  • Why Fantasy, Why Now

    Why Fantasy, Why Now

    The world is a little bit on fire right now. Climate change is getting worse. Politics have taken a shift to the right, threatening the rights of historically marginalised peoples. Technology is developing at a rapid pace—creatives are being displaced, jobs are under threat.

    In this world, Fantasy occupies a special place. It offers an escape, yes, but not just escapism—it’s a lens through which we can view and process our reality.

    Firstly, Fantasy gives us the freedom to isolate a problem and task a character with finding a solution. The problem can reflect something we face in our real world. In doing so, the reader is given the opportunity to consider the solution space. With our protagonists, we explore what the various options are.

    From Frodo in The Lord of the Rings to Vin in Mistborn, our heroes are challenged to take on evil and oppression. They try different ways to solve their problem. They fail, and get back up—this is what keeps them relatable, and the reader cheering them on—until they find something that works. 

    And it isn’t just about finding strength and power: Kvothe in The Name of the Wind shows us how intelligence and wit can be used to fight a struggle against poverty. We seem him struggle at numerous times, and we’re with him as he explores ways to attend the University, despite his background.

    In most stories, in the struggle between good and evil, good (usually) ends up on top. (Not always, but usually!) This gives us hope that the struggles we face will one day be resolved. We also learn the costs associated with different actions, the drawbacks, the mistakes—the things we may want to avoid rather than repeat. Through such works, we learn not just what to do, but what to avoid, and how to think critically about our own world’s challenges.

    Mistborn begins in a world where evil has already won, yet our heroes still find a path toward hope and redemption. Hope emerges here from a seemingly hopeless world. In contrast, Legends & Lattes reveals to us smaller victories, more personal, where an orc warrior who has tired of adventure can find fulfilment in opening a coffee shop (and in the relationships she forges along the way).

    A core aspect of Modern Fantasy is the exploration of oppression and difference, race and culture, sexuality and gender identity. Through Fantasy, people who may not have a voice in our world are given time to speak, to explore their concerns, to be heroes and represent the power to change. Above all, even though many of the creatures and peoples we encounter are not human, Fantasy helps us explore and understand our common humanity, our shared personhood and experience.

    Terry Pratchett’s Guards, Guards! and Men at Arms (and numerous other works, honestly, but I pick these as they’re fresh in my mind!) explores class discrimination and systematic inequality through the members of the City Watch. Here, peoples of different races and backgrounds and genders explore and overcome their differences in ways that are humorous, touching, and sincere. Similarly, the Edge Chronicles presents a world where many creatures (from Banderbears to Sky Pirates) must learn to coexist despite their differences.

    When the world around us gets too much, Fantasy allows us to disappear into a world unlike our own, full of mystery and adventure. But that does not mean we are running away. Like the heroes in our stories, we enter these worlds not to abandon reality, but to return changed and better equipped to face it. The best stories don’t just transport us: they transform us.

    Much of this is, of course, true of Science Fiction as well. Where Fantasy uses far off worlds and systems of magic to explore these issues, Sci-Fi uses far off futures and technological changes. Asimov’s Foundation series explores how civilisations can deal with large-scale crises; through Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? we question our humanity in a world of advancing technology; similar questions are raised in Asimov’s Baley—Olivaw series (my favourite being The Naked Sun) where the closing gap between robot and human, and the restructuring of human society around that, is explored.

    From finding solutions to considering mistakes, from giving marginalised peoples a voice to giving us the strength to face our world, literature is powerful. And it’s needed now, more than ever. So tell me, what about you? How have the stories you love changed you or given you strength?