Tag: reading

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
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: The Colour of Magic

The Colour of Magic introduces readers to Terry Pratchett’s Discworld—a flat planet balanced on the backs of four elephants standing on a giant turtle swimming through space. The story follows Rincewind, a wizard capable of performing only one spell, who reluctantly becomes the guide for Twoflower, the Disc’s first tourist, complete with his magical luggage that follows him on hundreds of tiny legs. Their misadventures take them across the Disc as they flee assassins, dragons, and the whims of gods.

What I loved most was the dynamic between Rincewind and Twoflower. It strikes a perfect balance between the cynical wizard and the wide-eyed tourist, creating a classic contrast of worldviews. I loved the interplay here—Rincewind desperate to avoid adventure, Twoflower open to exploring and nonchalant about the consequences.

The prose is great; I’ve heard some people say that they’re not so keen on Pratchett’s earlier work and it takes him a few books to hone his style, but even still I really like it. What I think is key is his ability to imply rather than explain. He often shows reactions or outcomes, trusting readers to fill in what happened. It misfires from time to time (occasionally I misinterpret what happens), but this is rare, and on balance I find it really effective.

The four-part structure of The Colour of Magic gives the novel an enjoyable episodic quality, allowing us to experience the different corners of Discworld while exploring the interplay between gods and the fundamentals of magic. We move through different parts of the world, visiting Ankh-Morpork, then woods and temples, dragons, to the very edge of the Disc, in a really fun and varied way.

And, at its core, we get this really loving satire and parody of fantasy tropes. This is what makes Pratchett’s work distinctive—there’s an affectionate mockery of a genre he clearly adores, in this case some of the classic sword and sorcery works. All this as part of fantastic and rich world building that incorporates modernist themes, religion, bureaucracy, and other carefully selected and well represented targets of gentle mockery.

My only criticism lies in the transition between the third and final parts, where it felt like something significant occurred off-page. There was a momentary disconnect for me that was more jarring than the book’s other scene shifts. But otherwise I loved it, and I love Pratchett, and it’s been a great experience revisiting some of his work.

7th May 2025
Book Review: The Summer Tree

Content Warning: This review discusses a book containing sexual assault.

The Summer Tree, a richly imagined fantasy adventure, is the first of Guy Gavriel Kay’s Fionavar Tapestry trilogy. The novel follows five university students from Toronto who are transported to Fionavar, the ‘first of all worlds’, where they become entangled in an ancient conflict against a dark god breaking free from imprisonment.

Kay’s worldbuilding is probably the highlight of the novel. The magic system, where mages must be tied to other individuals who serve as ‘sources’ of power, is a nice mechanic. Also nicely done is the imprisonment of dark god Rakoth Maugrim beneath a mountain. The mountain looms visibly in the landscape as a prison in plain sight of all who live there. And the ritual of the Summer Tree itself introduces a compelling concept: kings are traditionally expected to sacrifice themselves during times of crisis, offering their lives to the gods. But they can send others in their place, and this puts one of the protagonists in an interesting position. Throughout, the metaphor of a tapestry and a weaver (symbolising fate and determinism) is contrasted with the dark god—the ‘unweaver’.

The narrative mostly focuses on its classical fantasy setting—think kings and castles and mages—but it takes a refreshing turn in the final third when we finally reconnect with Dave, the fifth member of the transported group, who went missing during the journey into Fionavar. Kay’s incorporation of Native American-inspired elements here adds a level of cultural diversity to what otherwise might have been a purely European-inspired fantasy setting. The pacing of the story is fine, and the prose is accessible throughout. There’s the odd name you have to remember, but you’re not drowned in unnecessarily complicated language.

Of the ensemble cast, certain characters stand out with more memorable moments and clear arcs. Paul, driven by grief, finds his place on The Summer Tree; Kevin’s personality comes through. However, this is also where some of the novel’s weaknesses emerge. With five modern-day characters thrust into this fantasy realm, Kay effectively shows different reactions to this strange new world, but this breadth comes at the cost of depth for some characters. We get more substantive development for some protagonists, while others remain relatively undeveloped.

This imbalance is particularly noticeable in the female characters, both from our world and Fionavar itself. Too often, women in the narrative exist primarily as romantic interests, objects of desire, or victims of violence. In the final pages, there is an instance of sexual assault—unnecessarily graphic as far as I was concerned—as a plot device to show how evil the dark god is. Reading this book forty years after it was first published, it certainly feels dated in this regard.

Kay has earned comparisons to Tolkien, and not undeservedly so. His own work with Christopher Tolkien in drawing together the stories for the The Silmarillion undoubtedly impacted him, and he has brought to the genre a blend of different mythologies and influences. But I don’t think I was so enamoured by this book that I’d want to continue the trilogy.

16th Apr 2025
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.

2nd Mar 2025
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?

22nd Feb 2025