Amor Towles is a master of detail. Not just any detail, but the right details and only the right details to give us the entire essence of a life.

So it is in his novel, A Gentleman in Moscow. This is the story of Count Alexander Rostov, an aristocrat who meets a Bolshevik tribunal head-on in 1922 Russia. For the crime of being an unrepentant aristocrat, some members of the tribunal want to take him to the wall—that is, have him executed. But because of a pre-revolutionary poem attributed to him, the desire is not unanimous. Instead, he is sentenced to house-arrest at the Metropol Hotel in Moscow, where he has been residing for the past four years. It is a life sentence, and he is warned that on the day he steps outside the hotel, he will be shot.

The count is a pragmatic man, and he makes the best of his situation. The workers at the hotel become his friends, and he makes a life there, eventually even becoming one of the powers behind the success of the hotel’s premier restaurant.  It is in the descriptions of the hotel, and of the count’s living situation there, that Towles’s command of detail really comes to the fore, painting evocative pictures that show us the story better than any straightforward telling could do.

Soon after he is placed under house arrest, the count meets a nine-year old girl, Nina, who lives for a time at the hotel with her diplomat father, and the count’s relationship with her changes his life. From Nina, he learns the ins and outs of the back side of the hotel. And with her, he forges a friendship that will result in sorrows, but also in his greatest joy.

Even when confined to existence in a single six-story building, life can bring surprises. One surprise is the famous actress who stays often at the hotel and becomes the count’s friend, and something more. Her companionship weaves into his story for much of the book, and she is of great help to him as his daughter grows into a beautiful young woman and a gifted musician.

A daughter? This unmarried man, who spends more than half his life in the confines of a hotel, has a daughter? Yes, but not a biological daughter.

A daughter for this unmarried man is one of those surprises that come even in the constrained life the count leads. For his young friend, Nina, grows up in restive, Russia, where the wrong cause or the wrong associations can lead to trouble. Trouble finds Nina, and the count finds himself raising her daughter, Sophia.

And now the count, raised in luxury and privilege, who seems at the beginning of the story to be only concerned for his own routine and comfort, must put his own comfort, even his own safety, on the line to secure Sophia’s future. What can he do for her, when he cannot even step foot outside the hotel without risking both their futures?

Towles uses his masterful command of language, of history, and of details, the right details, to build a portrait of a man who is so much more than we at first believe him to be. As he faces his last test, we hope for him, and we revel in his cleverness, his love for Sophia, and finally, for the goodness of his heart and his love for his home. The ending of this story, even as it leaves us with questions about the future of these people we’ve come to care about, is deeply satisfying. I highly recommend this book.

If you read the book and enjoy it as much as I have, you may also want to check out the upcoming TV series, provided you have access to the Showtime plan of Paramount Plus. It will premier on that streaming service on March 29 in the US, and will star Ewan McGregor as the count. Hopefully it will be available in other formats at some point in the future. In the meanwhile, enjoy the book. It’s well worth your time.

Frederic S. Durbin’s A Green and Ancient Light is a gentle fantasy set in a world like ours, but not quite ours, which parallels the time of World War II. Like many children in England who were sent from London to the countryside for safety, in this story a nine-year old boy is spending the summer in a quiet fishing village with his grandmother, whom he barely knows. His mother at home is coping with a new baby, and his father has been sent to war. He cherishes a photo of his family and writes often to his Mama and Papa, but his life, for this one summer, is centered on this small village, on his grandmother, and on the startling, life-changing events that are about to shake his world.

As the story opens, the village gapes at an enemy plane, shot down over the coast and diving into the ocean with a fiery explosion. The boy narrator, whose name we never learn, is fascinated, as all boys of that age would be, by the crash, but does not suspect until that night how much this event will come to dominate his summer.

Late that night, his grandmother receives a secret visitor at her back door, a Mr. Girandole, the only named character in the story. This giving of his name, when all other characters are identified merely by an initial and a blank line (Mrs. F____ for the neighbor, for example, and R____ for the downed pilot), suggests Mr. Girandole’s pivotal place in the story, and centers us in that magical place that is of this world, and yet is apart, a place bathed in a different light and moving to the rhythm of a different music.

Mr. Girandole needs Grandmother’s help, and Grandmother, in turn, enlists the boy’s help. They leave in the dark to climb up to the forest, where they discover the downed plane’s pilot, hanging from his parachute straps in a tree, severely injured. Enemy or not, this man needs help, and Grandmother and Mr. Girandole set out to help him.

But Mr. Girandole is not what he at first seems. And there is more to the forest than the boy can imagine—a hidden sculpture garden that holds a mystery as potent as the mystery of Mr. Girandole’s origins. And the pilot, at first seeming only a soldier with the same fears and aggressions normal to any man shot down in enemy territory, becomes something more as well, as he is exposed to the enchantments of the garden.

The boy and his grandmother spend the rest of the summer trying to solve the mystery of the garden in order to help Mr. Girandole return to his own land in a world apart from our own. They learn to be secretive as they dodge the contingent of soldiers that swarm about the village and the surrounding countryside searching for the downed pilot. And they learn that the pilot, who as first seems only their enemy, has had experiences with that other world of Mr. Girandole and can be their ally if they will let him.

The story moves with slow and exorable grace toward an ending that is both triumphant and tragic, leaving us with a bittersweet yearning to find and know that same green and ancient light the boy found in the garden, no matter the consequences.

A Green and Ancient Light is a story that, though firmly in the fantasy genre, defies the confines of its category. It is a story for anyone who is looking for that magical path into deeper connection with the meaning of joy and love, anyone who senses there is more to life than what we can see and touch.

When King Arthur is mortally wounded and is carried away from the world, his people are given the promise that he will return when he is most needed—The Once and Future King, as he is known in T. H. White’s version of the legend.

This promise is what makes the tragic ending of the story bearable. It seems the glory of Camelot has crashed into chaos, the world no better off than before Arthur came on the scene. Worse off, in fact, for it was not until Arthur’s magnificent reign that mankind knew what was possible. Afterwards, the darkness is even darker in contrast to the light that shone with brilliance for a brief time.

Stephen R. Lawhead shows us this brilliance and its tragic end in his Pendragon Cycle, but he doesn’t leave it at that. In Avalon, he brings us forward into the modern era and shows us the fulfillment of the promise.

Both the British government and the British monarchy are painted with less than complementary stokes as this story opens. The decadent last king of Britian (not a real member of the royal family as we know them, but an imagined descendent), commits suicide, leaving the way open for the corrupt Prime Minister to do away with the monarchy and take over as the first president of Britain. Lawhead shows us a Britian that has lost her way–lost her soul and her commitment to the ways of truth and justice.

But he shows us, along with the decadence, a British people still true at heart, who are open to the leadership of a true hero and willing to follow him back to Avalon, back to the Summerland of Taliesin (as articulated in the Pendragon Cycle).

This hero is Captain James Arthur Stuart, a Scotsman and the true heir, not only to the British throne, but to King Arthur. In a way that Embries (Merlin) cannot quite explain, James is King Arthur, come again at Britian’s time of greatest need. Though he is, indeed, himself, he is also Arthur, and has Arthur’s memories, which come to him in flashes at pivotal moments.

Reluctant at first to believe he is the heir, James comes to accept his position as rightful king, partly through legal evidence and partly through his insight into Arthur’s memories. Convinced at last, he jumps whole-heartedly, with wisdom and undaunted courage, into the fight to restore the monarchy and lead his people back to Avalon in the spirit of Taliesin’s Summerland.

This was a fascinating read. Lawhead pulled off a difficult task admirably and created a truly likable good character. I’ve heard and read critics who lament the scarcity in modern literature of truly good characters who are also sympathetic and likeable. So many characters, while falling on the side of good, are not the upright, commendable, good-to-the core characters we can cheer for without reservation. We have instead, a mixed bag of somewhat good or mostly good anti-heroes or reluctant heroes, or deeply flawed heroes who must overcome their flaws to pull off a victory over evil.

And these characters are worth cheering for too, worth reading, and their journeys make for many wonderful stories. But it’s refreshing to meet one of the absolutely good characters and find in him a person we can like without reservation.

I read this book, scene after scene, with unadulterated delight. Even the scenes in which nothing pivotal happened were delightful, because I cared so much about James and his circle of close companions.

Only one scene less me less than satisfied. Lawhead included a fight scene against a gang of skinheads (dating the book a little in retrospect). I didn’t object to the scene per se. It was a necessary scene to show James’s courage and physical prowess. But it was a bit mechanical and so completely anchored in the present day of the story. It would have been greatly enhanced if it had been accompanied by flashbacks to King Arthur’s memories and point of view. It could have connected James even more firmly with Arthur, that magnificent warrior, and Lawhead, unfortunately, lost an important opportunity.

Otherwise, the story was well-executed and a fitting sequel to the Pendragon Cycle. I enjoyed it a great deal and highly recommend it, even to readers who have not read the Cycle, though it gains depth if read in conjunction with the other five books.

One could call the story of King Arthur of Britian the once and future story. It has been told and retold since the Middle Ages, and continues to provide fodder for new renditions. Every telling is a little different, each imbued with the particular vision and world view of its creator.

Stephen R. Lawhead’s retelling is one more unique version. Although Christian elements are inherent to the legend and show up in some fashion in many, if not most renditions, Lawhead’s Pendragon Cycle is the first modern version I’ve read that is written from a specifically Christian worldview (the first I’ve read, though others like this may exist that I have not yet encountered). The five books of the cycle are Taliesin, Merlin, Arthur, Pendragon, and Grail.

The Christian world view comes through in the overarching vision for Britian, the vision of the Summerland, as articulated first by the bard Taliesin.

I have seen a land shining with goodness where each man protects his brother’s dignity as readily as his own, where war and want have ceased and all races live under the same law of love and honor.

I have seen a land bright with truth, where a man’s word is his pledge and falsehood is banished, where children sleep safe in their mothers’ arms and never know fear or pain. I have seen a land where kings extend their hands in justice rather than reach for the sword, where mercy, kindness, and compassion flow like deep water over the land, and men revere virtue, revere truth, revere beauty, above comfort, pleasure, or selfish gain. A land where peace reigns in the hearts of men, where faith blazes like a beacon from every hill and love like a fire from every hearth, where the True God is worshiped and his ways acclaimed by all. (Taliesin, Stephen R. Lawhead, Copyright 1987, Harper Collins/Eros, paperback printing, 1999, page 443).

Taliesin does not live to become the Lord of Summerland. In the second book of the cycle, it appears that Taliesin’s son Merlin might be the Lord of Summerland. But Merlin’s life takes turns that lead him away from that fate, and he realizes he is waiting for someone else.

That someone arrives with the birth of Arthur, and it becomes Merlin’s life work to bring Arthur to his lordship. The third book brings this to fruition, and we see the flowering of Britian as the Summerland. Lawhead’s Arthur is one of the most likable versions of the king I have come across so far, as is his queen, an Irish battle queen. Yet, as we all know, it doesn’t last.

In Lawhead’s version, tragedy does not come to Arthur through the betrayal of his queen—she remains steadfast throughout—but through the jealousy and anger of another woman, Morgian, and her son Mordred. And through Arthur’s own proud overreaching, as he goes to Rome to proclaim himself Emperor and leaves his land and his queen unprotected.

The cycle could have ended here, as a trilogy, but it is richer for the last two books, that go back in time to fill in parts of Arthur’s reign that Lawhead hurried over in the third book. These stories complete the picture of Merlin and Arthur, and of their vision of the Summerland, a land we are still waiting for, as we await Arthur’s promised return.

I was moved and delighted by Lawhead’s Pendragon Cycle, not only by the telling of the stories, but even more, by the mythical vision that flows through every book and flowers in passages that rise above the ordinary and elevate the entire cycle. These stirring passages are the crowning jewels within books well-worth reading.

When Ray Bradbury was writing his Martian Chronicles in the 1940’s, 1999 seemed so very far in the future. Surely by then mankind would make it to that most tantalizing of destinations: Mars.

It’s been about eighty years since Bradbury gave this book to the world, and we’re still waiting, eyeing that distant world with interest and longing and trying to figure out what it will take to get a man or woman there. We’re getting closer, and our modern technology has given us a pretty good idea of what we’ll find when we arrive.

It’s truly nothing like the world that Bradbury’s first astronauts find when they land on Mars in an imaginary 1999. Along the canals we have seen with our powerful telescopes, are cities filled with homes and a thriving Martian culture. And the Martians do not all welcome these intruders from another world. The first human explorers disappear without a trace.

But these failures do not deter the humans. They continue sending astronauts in ever greater numbers. They find a world where nothing is quite as it seems, but again, they are not deterred. They simply make the world over in their own image. Settlers follow the astronauts, and soon a thriving earth culture replaces the old Martian culture.

Until there are few indigenous Martians left. And finally, none.

And then disaster strikes on earth. Rather than watching from a distance, thankful to be safe, the humans of Mars begin to remember their home and the loved ones they have left behind. And a great reverse-exodus begins. As if they could fix what was happening on earth by joining the disaster. As if they did not carry with them the same seeds of disaster they had left behind on the home planet.

The Martian Chronicles still has resonance, despite the eighty years and numerous scientific advances since its first release. This might change when humans finally set foot on Mars, but I doubt it. The story is not so much about the journey to a distant planet as it is about humanity. Bradbury sees his own species with a very clear vision and thinly disguises his commentary on human fallibility with a story of space exploration and colonization.

But the book is not just social commentary. It’s also a highly entertaining story. Bradbury was a master of the craft of storytelling, finding both the humor and the pathos in every situation and showing them to us through a collection of just-right details.

It’s a short book, one that will entertain you while it makes you think. A book I highly recommend.

In The Tower at Stony Wood by Patricia A. McKillip, Cyan Dag is the greatest knight in the realm of Regis Aurum, King of Yves. Seven years ago, he saved the king’s life during a battle to put down a rebellion on the northern island of Ysse. He has been one of the king’s favorites since that day, though he has no land or money. He is too poor even to marry the woman he loves, a noblewoman whose father seeks an advantageous marriage for her. Cyan hopes the king can intervene on behalf of himself and his lady.

But now it’s the king’s turn to marry. His bride is Gwynne from Skye, a land known for its magic. Before Cyan can get a clear glimpse of Gwynne, the Bard of Skye finds him and tells him the bride is not what she seems but is something strange and perilous out of the sea. The true Gwynne of Skye is shut in a tower, forced to view the world only through a mirror and to stitch pictures of what she sees out of colored threads. If she leaves the tower, or even looks out the window, she will die. The Bard of Skye has sought out Cyan Dag because she believes he is the only one who can rescue Gwynne and save the king, and the realm, from the peril posed by the imposter.

Cyan, bewildered by what he has learned, and fearing for his king and friend, sets out for Skye, with no idea how he will rescue the real Gwynne or even where her tower is, but determined to do what he can.

Meanwhile, Thayne of the Ysse (the conquered north island) also sets out for Skye. His objective is not a lady, but a dragon. With the magic of Ysse, he hopes to claim both the dragon and the dragon’s gold to help Ysse rise up and throw off the yoke of Regis Aurum’s rule. The dragon he seeks lives in a desolate valley, its body wound around a tower with no door.

In a third tower in Skye, in the little town of Stony Wood beside the sea, a young woman named Melanthos views the stories told by yet another mirror, stories of a knight riding to rescue a lady and of a lady trapped in a tower. She, too, makes thread pictures of them. She doesn’t understand why she does this, or what happens to her pictures when the wind takes them, but the enchantment of the tower calls her. Her mother, a woman full of buried magic, enters her tower and also becomes mesmerized by the pictures in the mirror.

Before long, these story threads become tangled together. Cyan Dag, unable to find the tower where Gwynne of Skye is a prisoner, finds, instead, the dragon’s tower and the tower by the sea, and finds the threads of his tale intertwining with those of Thayne of Ysse and Melanthos and her mother. The Bard of Skye walks in and out of the tale, along with her sister, who understands the magic of Skye in ways Cyan cannot comprehend.

Desperate to find Gwynne, Cyan begins to discover that his mission might be something other than what he believed. And as he struggles to learn the truth, he worries over his lady love, whom he left without a word of goodbye or an explanation. Though his heart fears she has been married out of his life, he will not give up his mission or desert Gwynne in order to return to her. He is committed and will not turn aside.

The Tower at Stony Wood refers loosely to Tennyson’s poem, The Lady of Shalott, and its Arthurian foundation stories. Like all Patricia A. McKillip’s wonderful stories, this tale is a complex tapestry of magic and valor, where things are not what they seem. And Cyan Dag is, like all her heroes and heroines, a character with hidden virtues, strengths, and vision. McKillip’s tells the story in lush, lyrical prose, and gives us mere hints of the truth beneath the mystery as she leads us through her intricate plot to a conclusion that only seems inevitable once we arrive.

This is pure fantasy at its finest, but one must be willing to accept the magic—not just the magic in a place like Skye, but the magic of the word pictures McKillip weaves, the magic of unfettered imagination—if one hopes to experience all this story, or any of her stories, have to offer.

McKillip has long been my favorite fantasy author. Though I suspect her beliefs are far different from my own, I find her characters to reflect much of my own understanding of the ideal hero. And her work is so achingly beautiful, I can’t resist it. I found this to be true all over again as I reread The Tower at Stony Wood, and I highly recommend you embrace the magic of this tale as well.

Ned Henry is traveling back and forth through time at a mad pace, trying to find the Bishop’s Bird Stump in time for the dedication of Lady Schrapnell’s reconstructed Coventry Cathedral. In fact, he’s made so many drops into an earlier time that he is suffering from the worst case of time-lag ever.

This means he has a tendency to maudlin sentimentality. Difficulty in distinguishing sounds. Fatigue. A tendency to become distracted by irrelevancies. Slowness in answering. Blurred vision.

He’s a classic case, but when he’s jerked out of the 1940s and back to 2057 Oxford, England, he isn’t given the chance to rest, as prescribed. Instead, he’s sent at once to the Victorian era, to help correct a possible time-travel incongruity. The possible incongruity occurs when a woman named Verity (the most beautiful woman Ned has ever seen—but then, he’s time lagged and sentimental), accidently brings a specimen of the now-extinct housecat forward in time. 

Thus begins a romp through time in To Say Nothing of the Dog by Connie Willis. Ned and Verity hang out in the Victorian era, where Ned embarks, accidentally, on his own version of Three Men in a Boat, (by Jerome K. Jerome) a book Ned has read fondly. His boat even includes a dog, as in the original story, and at one point, his boat passes Jerome’s boat on the River Thames.

Ned and Verity scramble throughout the story to correct the blunders they keep making in their time-lagged state, while back in 2057 their time-travel supervisors are trying to understand the repercussions of the incongruity.

The book is a Comedy of Errors, with a warm heart at its core. Willis displays a massive base of knowledge about history, literature, art—about English culture in general—and an understanding of British humor that makes this book a delight from page one all the way to the end.

The Bishop’s Bird Stump is found at last, just in time for the dedication (and if you want to know what a Bird Stump is, read the book). It’s not where anyone expected, and the discovery of its location and how it got there opens whole new vistas for the time-travel community.

The time travel aspect of this book puts it squarely in the Science Fiction category, but anyone who enjoys British history will also enjoy this book. And if you love a good romance, this one’s for you as well. Light-hearted, witty, clean, and no end of fun, I can’t recommend this book highly enough.

In England of the mid-20^th century, the Drew children, Simon, Jane, and Barney, embark on a seaside holiday with their parents and their Great Uncle Merry—not a real uncle at all, but a mysterious family friend. They soon discover an ancient map, which Great Uncle Merry helps them decipher, and the adventure begins—a new quest for the Holy Grail, hidden and lost for centuries.

Thus begins Susan Cooper’s The Dark is Rising Sequence, a work that wraps the battle between light and dark in the mantle of King Arthur and places it in the care of a group of 20^th century children.

The books, in order, are 1) Over Sea, Under Stone, 2) The Dark is Rising, 3) Greenwitch, 4) The Grey King, and 5) Silver on the Tree. Written for children, the protagonists are all children, but the books’ appeal transcends age ranges.

The Drew children’s adventure in the first book ends with the rediscovered Grail safe in a museum, while the children go back to their ordinary lives, though they are changed by their experiences. They now have a deeper understanding of the ancient mysteries that surround them and a realization that their Great Uncle Merry might be more than he seems. When they learn his full name, Merriman Lyon, Barney makes the connection—Merriman Lyon . . . Merry Lyon . . .Merlion . . .Merlin!

Book Two introduces Will Stanton, the seventh son of a seventh son (important in some mythologies), the youngest member of a rousing and beautiful family. On his eleventh birthday, he discovers he is the last of the Old Ones, a group of people from across the centuries who have special power and are tasked with fighting the forces of darkness. Merriman Lyon (Great Uncle Merry) steps openly into his role of Merlin, the first Old One, onetime advisor to King Arthur. Other hints of connection to the Arthurian legend are revealed, connections Will learns of bit by bit as he comes into his power and joins the battle against the Dark. For the Dark is rising again, after a long period of quiescence.

In Book Three, the Drew children and Will Stanton meet for the first time, back at the seaside. Will, with his special knowledge as an Old One, understands that they must work together, but the Drew children, being (mostly) ordinary children, do not welcome him with open arms. The story is not only about the next stage in the fight against the dark, but is also a story of coming together, as the four children become more of a team.

Book Four takes us to Wales for the first time, a place of deep mystery and old legend. The Drew children do not appear in this story, but it is in this tale that Will meets Bran, an albino boy with a mysterious past. Merriman Lyon (Merlin) has recruited Bran to help Will, but Bran does not know the true extent of his involvement in the old legends until the conclusion of the story (and no spoilers here, except to say that those who love the old Arthurian legend, will love the twist Bran’s story gives to the old tales).

Book Five brings all the children—Simon, Jane, and Barney Drew, Will Stanton, and Bran—together, once again in Wales, for the ultimate confrontation with the Dark. More than any of the other books, this one brings fantastical elements and the old Arthurian legend together in modern times, for an adventure children (and adults, too) cannot help but love.

These books are rousing good adventure stories. They also pull in a lot of symbolism out of the old legends, to add an aura of ancient mystery and wonder dear to the hearts of young readers (and readers young at heart). Much of the symbolism is more Druidic than Christian, but not in a way that would alienate Christian readers, especially since the battle between light and dark is an age-old theme in Christian fantasy, as well as in much secular fantasy.

In a genre where so many young protagonists are orphans—a plotting device to get the parents out of the way so the children can have true agency in their own adventures—these children, except Bran, all have a mother, father, and siblings, and a normal family life. In fact, the pictures Cooper draws of the Stanton family (Will’s family) are among my favorite parts of these books. They are a charming and wholesome and ever-fascinating family, and I savored every scene they are in.

The books overall are wholesome in the best way possible. They are, moreover, well written, with a variety of vividly drawn characters and exciting, fast-moving plots. Encourage the children in your lives to read them, or better yet, read them together. You won’t regret sharing the adventure with them.

Cazaril has had a harder life than most. By the age of 35, he has fought in wars, made bitter enemies, commanded a fortress under siege, been betrayed by his own people, and survived, though only barely, as a prisoner rowing in the galleys. But these trials are nothing to what Lois McMaster Bujold is about to throw at him in The Curse of Chalion.

Though scarred by his experiences, he is now free. Penniless, he makes his way on foot back to the provincial court where he was once a page. It is the only place that feels like home, and he hopes to find work there, enough to sustain himself. But the welcome he finds there is warmer than he could have dared hope, and he finds himself secretary to the young Royesse, second in line to the throne of Chalion.

Royesse Iselle is a lady of both beauty and intelligence, as is her attendant, the Lady Betriz. Cazaril teaches both ladies, and develops a close and respectful relationship with them—with, perhaps, a few stronger feelings mixed in for one of the ladies. 

He is pleased with his new position until the Roya (king), Iselle’s half-brother, demands her presence at his stronghold. Now Cazaril will have to face his old enemies, those who betrayed him to the galleys, and hope his position is unobtrusive enough that he can escape their attention.

But he cannot remain on the sidelines when the Roya arranges a terrifying marriage for Iselle. As she prays for a miracle, Cazaril decides to give her one if he can. But what he tries has results he never imagined. Now he is drawn further in the court intrigue, while gaining a new sight that allows him to see the curse that hangs over the royal family of Chalion. To save the family, and especially Iselle, he must find a way to remove the curse.

Beautifully written, with a pacing that never relents, this story combines all the best characteristics of fantasy. It has, first of all, a magnificent cast of characters, each one unique and well-drawn. I loved every one of them, even the bad guys (who I loved to hate). Even the clerics were refreshingly human, rather than the caricatures, either good or bad, that often show up when a work of fantasy is trying to make a philosophical or religious point. I especially loved Cazaril, who is both truly heroic and beautifully human and carries the day even though, at age 35, he is past the age of most fantasy heroes.

The world-building is equally well done. This world is complete and full of life. No cardboard sketches. Reading the book, I felt as if I was living in and breathing the air of this world. The unique, five-god religion of the world is different enough from my own faith that I could have felt alienated, but it had elements that resonated with me, and I became more and more fascinated as the bits and pieces were revealed.

This book is also very clean, which is refreshing. At the same time, it is never moralistic or prudish. There is some violence–some fighting and some blood—and Bujold never shies away from brutal realism in these scenes, but it is never excessive, never so graphic as to be gratuitous. And there is love and desire. Not every character is a saint in sexual matters, and we learn of things that would horrify us if faced with them in real life. But Bujold pulls the door shut on these things, as she should. This book has had great reviews and has been popular, as it deserves, proving that gratuitous violence and sex are not necessary to tell a good, even a great, story.

This book was difficult to put down. I loved every page, and I’m looking forward to reading the next one, in what appears to be a sort-of-series of stand-alone stories. I highly recommend this book, both to fantasy lovers, and to readers who are new to the genre.

 A beautiful woman meets a dangerous and intriguing man, one whom she will not easily forget. Shortly thereafter, she meets a second, equally dangerous man, one whom she comes to regard with great respect and affection. This second man is married to a beautiful woman who will allow no rivals.

And so begins a complex tangle of emotions, easily complex enough to build a compelling story.

But this isn’t enough for Guy Gavriel Kay in The Lions of Al-Rassan.

The beautiful woman is Jehane, a physician and a Kindarth. Her people are landless, at the mercy of the rulers and the would-be rulers of the realm. They themselves have no ambition to rule. They only seek to find a place where they can practice their religion and carry on their culture in peace. But peace is not in store for Jehane. When she rescues one of her patients from a political massacre, she must leave her home and her family and flee for her life.

The first man she meets, as she is taking this first step into political intrigue, is Ammar ibn Khairan, Asharite assassin, skilled poet, subtle, deadly, and a favorite of the court at Cartada, Al-Rassan’s premier city. A favorite of the court, that is, until he accomplishes one assassination too many and is forced into exile.

In the course of her flight from home, Jehane meets the second man, Rodrigo Belmonte, in whom she discovers goodness, mercy, and an indomitable sense of honor. Rodrigo, a legendary warrior of Esperaña, the northmost area of the peninsula, exacts justice on a rogue warrior with high connections. His reward is exile from his kingdom, from his home, and from his wife and sons.

Jehane, Ammar, and Rodrigo all make their separate ways to the Asharite city of Ragosa, where an enlightened ruler accepts their service. Ragosa is a city that exhibits the fading beauty of the Asharite culture, a beauty that includes tolerance, even acceptance of non-Asharites. And so, the three exiles come together, take measure of each other, and develop a depth of friendship and love they never expected to find among those who are not their own kind.

Between the two men, respect and a shared mission forge a bond that grows until it is deeper than mere friendship. Between Jehane and the two men, a different kind of bond is growing, though even she does not acknowledge it at first, and only slowly begins to make a choice between them.

And all is well in Ragosa, where music, poetry, and gracious living thrive amongst soaring architecture and the fantastic masks of a lively street carnival. For a brief moment, in this one anachronistic place, beauty reigns.

But it cannot last. The Asharites, conquerors and long-time rulers, are desperate to retain their grip on the peninsula. The Esperañans, descendants of the conquered, are determined to drive the Asharites out. The two forces are about to tear the peninsula apart in a monumental struggle for control. A savage war is coming, a war that will destroy all beauty in its path. A war in which each ruler will need his best warriors, his greatest patriots. And so, the Asharite ruler in Cartada and the Esperañan ruler in Valledo will call Ammar and Rodrigo home.

Now, though their friendship never wavers, they become something else as well. They become mortal enemies. And in time the are called upon to destroy each other for the sake of another love, the love of home and king and country. Jehane is caught in the middle, powerless as her people have so often been powerless, watching with Rodrigo’s wife as the world they have known ends.

In a way, this is the story of medieval Spain, but by unmooring it from the historical Spain and bringing it into the realm of Historical Fantasy, Kay makes it something more—a story in which the essence of a struggle between three great peoples is distilled with remarkable clarity, a story whose essence speaks to us in the struggles of our own times.

Kay weaves this story with a subtle touch, gathering up the threads of our hearts one by one until he holds them with an inexorable grip. When his hold is secure, he tugs hard, and our hearts shatter.

The Lions of Al-Rassan is an elegant, lyrical, provocative, merciless, heartbreaking book. Kay’s writing is poetry in prose form, and his story-telling powers are unmatched. He uses the great beauty of his writing to sing a tribute and a lament for the beauty that was lost in Al-Rassan, and for all the beauty that is lost in all the world, in all the times.

The book contains a few scenes with sexual content and a great many instances of cruel, brutal violence. If these things bother you, I suggest you pass on this one, but if you can tolerate these things, I cannot recommend this book highly enough.

Karen Hancock’s Legends of the Guardian King opens when Prince Abramm Kalladorne returns to Springerlan after years of religious training to discover that his father, who was king of Kirath, and his three oldest brothers are all dead. His two remaining brothers are suspicious of Abramm, believing the religious sect he is a part of wants to use him to gain political power.

In fact, Abramms younger brother is so hostile, he delivers him into slavery. This betrayal elicits a crisis of faith that nearly esclipeses the physical crisis Abramm endures as he is sold to an Esurhrite gamer and trained as a gladiator. Thus begins an adventure in painful training, discipline, and spiritual renewal Abramm could never have predicted and didn’t want. In the end, it molds him into a more worthy man than the soft life of a reigious accolate ever could have done.

When he returns to Kiriath years later, he faces early challenges, but earns a space of peace and prosperity and the love of a strong, beautiful woman. Considering the length of the series, its not a surprise that this peaceful period could not last. More betrayal from within the kingdom and threats from without as the dark Esurhite kingdom seeks to take over the northern kingdoms result in more pressure than the kingdom can withstand.

The new challenges Abramm faces, both to his political position and to his faith, outdo anything he faced as a slave in the gladiator games. Though the external challenges are extreme, it is the internal challenges, the things Abramm struggles to learn about himself, his faith, and his God, that are the hardest to overcome.

Karen Hancock’s Guardian-King series is celebrating its 20th anniversary this year, and it has stood the test of time quite well. A four book epic fantasy series, it is grandly conceived and skillfully executed. The books are The Light of Eidon, The Shadow Within, Shadow over Kiriath, and The Return of the Guardian King. In these books, Hancock builds a world that is both broad and deep, giving the reader a feeling that this is a real world, one we could step into at any time and find it familiar.

The characters are also well-drawn and diverse. The lines between the good and bad characters, while always clear, are not always what one expects. The people who profess to have faith in God, fail and turn to evil sometimes, while the Esurhite gamer, who earns his wealth in a cruel blood sport, becomes Abramm’s friend and supporter.

Hancock does not shy away from adult themes. She treats her fantasy world as a reflection of the real world, where humans are fallible and dark things happen to good people–and are sometimes perpetuated by supposedly good people.

Though the books are unabashedly Christian, Hancock suffered some criticism in earlier years because her story was not always as clean and nice as some Christian readers thought it should be. Christian fantasy has come a long way in the portrayal of the grittier side of life, and I doubt many will offer the same criticism in today’s market (by today’s standards, these books would not be considered gritty at all). This is as it should be, for Hancock’s series mirrors real life much more clearly than a more sanitized story could do.

Besides her unwillingness to shy away from an accurate portrayal of life, Hancock’s books are much more skillfully written than most of the Christian fantasy that has been offered in the interim. It’s hard to find much to criticize in her storytelling. Perhaps Abramm’s spiritual struggles stretch out a bit too long, sometimes feeling repetitious, but that’s a small thing that detracts very little from the value of the books. Though I can’t possibly read all of the new Christian fantasy in this burgeoning genre, among those I have read I have yet to find much that equals Hancock’s books for quality. I enjoyed them immensely when rereading them recently and highly recommend them, both for fantasy fans and for newcomers to the genre.

I first read The Robe by Lloyd C. Douglas over forty years ago, and for a number of years I reread it every year around Easter. After I dropped that yearly habit, I picked it up for a reread every few years. I haven’t read it for quite some time now, but I don’t need to (though I would like to). The story is imprinted in my memory in great detail, including many of the best lines of dialogue, and I can take myself into the story, in my mind, whenever I’m in the mood for it.

A skillfully executed work of fiction set in the Roman Empire, mostly in Palestine, but also in Rome itself, along with a smattering of other locations in the empire, it follows the history of the Roman Tribune in charge of the crucifixion of Jesus Christ. When soldiers cast lots for Christ’s robe, this man, Tribune Marcellus, becomes the robe’s new owner and quickly discovers this is no ordinary garment.

A drunken subordinate calls for the robe to be displayed and mocked at a banquet on the evening after the crucifixion. When Marcellus is forced to touch the it under these circumstances, his mind breaks. After a great deal of mental suffering and embarrassment, he must confront the robe again, and it changes him irrevocably, and changes, in turn, the course of his life.

His Greek slave, Demetrius, is also affected by the robe. Douglas weaves the arcs of Marcellus and Demetrius together in a satisfying way, so that we cheer as much for one as for the other. Their friendship becomes one of the highlights of the book.

Some Christians may object to Douglas’s handling of some of the Jesus’s miracles. His interpretation of events may at time appear to water down the divinity of Jesus. But a complete reading reaffirms that divinity, as Douglas pulls no punches when it comes to the resurrection. It could be that the version of some events (the feeding of the five thousand in particular) reflect Douglas’s belief of how these events must have occurred. I suspect, however, that this tinkering was a narrative strategy, one which allowed Marcellus’s gradual change of heart and mind to proceed in the most believable way.

The novel also tinkers with historical facts, especially as pertains to the emperor Caligula. While Douglas does not make up facts or falsify things wholesale, he does compress historical events. There was probably a longer time span between the crucifixion and Caligula’s accession to the throne. More importantly, Caligula was a relatively good emperor at the beginning of his reign, until an illness unbalanced his mind. Douglas chooses to make him behave in insane and cruel ways right from the start.

For those of you who are sticklers for historical accuracy, I would encourage you to recognize these discrepancies and decide in advance to give Douglas a pass, as I have done. Making this decision from the start will allow you to enjoy this wonderful story as it should be enjoyed, rather than getting pulled out of the story by worrying about its accuracy.

And I can affirm that it is a wonderful story, in part because of the historical tinkering. The compression of historical events allows for Marcellus to come into conflict with the empire in a much more dramatic way than would otherwise have been possible. If Douglas had tried to draw out the timeline of the story in order for Marcellus’s showdown with Caligula to fit historical timing, he would have diffused the energy of the story and lessened the force of its ending.

And it is such a glorious ending, both heart-rending and triumphant. Love, faith, and truth win out over selfish greed, cruel acrimony, and the inertia of a ruling class that allows the empire to degenerate because of an inclination toward self-preservation. Be forewarned, however. When I say love, faith, and truth win, that doesn’t mean the victory will take the shape you expect, but I can’t imagine the story resolving any other way. Douglas has written one of the most memorable endings on my bookshelves.

To avoid spoilers, I won’t say more. If you want a mesmerizing, immersive reading experience, find a copy of The Robe and take the plunge. It’s a fabulous story, one that will stay with you for a long time. Indeed, you may discover that one reading is not enough and decide to join me in my next reread.

My first Donna Leon book was #25 in her Guido Brunetti series—The Waters of Eternal Youth. It was one of only a couple of choices on the bookstore shelves when I was shopping. I’ve found that it doesn’t matter which book you start with in this series—they are all equally accessible.

I was so charmed by my first dip into the series that I immediately found and read #1 in the series, Death at La Fenice, and began looking for more. I usually make the L portion of the mystery section one of my first stops when I enter a used book store (which doesn’t mean they’re not worth buying new, and I do that as well).

The books are set in Venice, Italy, reason enough to read them. Leon’s bio says she lived in Venice for over 30 years, which explains the realistic, detailed, and loving portrait of that city in her stories. But along with a charming city, she also portrays a charming protagonist. Guido Brunetti is a gentle man without the angst that so many stories seem to think readers demand. He’s doing his job under sometimes difficult circumstances, working under a boss who is close to incompetent and more interested in how he and his department appear to his superiors than in the finding the truth.

But Brunetti has learned to work around these difficulties, with the help of a couple of kindred spirits in his department. When he goes home, he has the support of an intelligent and loving wife. Paola is almost as much a reason to read the books as Guido Brunetti himself. The daughter of wealthy aristocrats—one of Venice’s old families—she has chosen to marry a working man and become a working woman herself (a literature teacher). Besides that, she is a fantastic cook, and Leon provides mouth-watering descriptions of her cooking without letting them become a distraction from the plot at hand. Brunetti’s teenaged children complete the not-quite-but-close-enough-to-perfect home portrait.

The plots of each story are well-wrought. Leon knows just how to weave information into a mystery story so that we don’t quite get the solution, but have that satisfied Ah-ha moment when all is revealed (and makes perfect sense). The individual plots of each story—the crime that must be solved—are interesting, but not really the main point of reading the series. The main point is to soak in the atmosphere while enjoying the companionable struggle along with Brunetti as we try to figure it all out.

Leon has released a book a year since 1992, making the current count 32. I’ve read five so far, with a couple more on the shelf waiting for the right moment. I’m reading them slowly, at one or two per year, not because they’re not good enough to devour more quickly. Not at all. I could easily get hooked on them and read through the whole series. But then I wouldn’t have the pleasure of anticipation, or the added pleasure of having a new one available when I need a break from my other reading.

For that is when I read them. Much as I love most of my other reading, and especially all the speculative books I read, sometimes I need something light to give me a break from the other things. Something completely different. I can count on the quality of Leon’s books and know that they will always have the right atmosphere, the right touch, when I need those breaks. So, the two unread volumes on my shelf and the others waiting for acquisition, will be there at just the right time.

If you enjoy mysteries, or you’re not sure and would like to give them a try, I would recommend you find a Commissario Brunetti book, any one, anywhere in the series, and give them a try. I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.

Dr Ransom, an English academic of the early to mid-20th century, takes a walking tour and ends up on a deserted road, where he approaches a locked-up country estate. looking for a place to spend the night. As he forces his way through the hedge, we are sure no good can come of this, and when he interrupts an old colleague threatening a local youth, our suspicions deepen. And sure enough, before the night is over, Ransom has been drugged and loaded onto a spaceship headed for Malacandra, the planet we know as Mars. The two men flying the vessel have been there before and believe the locals on Malacandra want a human sacrifice. Ransom will be their victim.

But things are not what they seem to these two unenlightened space pilots. The Malecandrian ruler, a being from another dimension, is more interested in news out of the dark, silent planet (Earth) than in sacrifices. Ranson finds himself in the midst of a cosmic battle between good and evil that spans a series of three books by C. S. Lewis: Out of the Silent Planet, Perelandra, and That Hideous Strength (collectively know as his Space Trilogy or Cosmic Trilogy).

Ransom does make it back to Earth with his skin intact (barely). The knowledge he has gained of unearthly beings and the battle they are engaged in makes him a prime candidate for a mission to Perelandra (Venus). Perelandra is newly populated, and the forces of evil on Earth are taking their war there, hoping to corrupt and recruit this new species. Ransom is there to provide the counter arguments, hoping to prevent disaster for this new world. This second book ends with a wonderful passage–one of my favorite in C. S. Lewis’s fiction–a paean for that Good in the cosmos that is beyond our mortal comprehension, except in glimpses and limited by our attachment to this dark, silent planet, Earth.

In the third book, That Hideous Strength, the battle comes to Earth (or, at least we see it working itself out on Earth for the first time in the series). Lewis delights my heart in this last volume by pulling in a bit of the Arthurian legend. A small college town has become the vortex of the battle, as agents from the National Institute of Co-ordinated Experiments–N.I.C.E. (if the name raises red flags, it should) have discovered the burial place of the ancient sage, Merlin. They know Merlin is about to emerge from his grave, and they want to appropriate his power for their evil cause. Ransom and a small, motley company of local folks must find Merlin before N.I.C.E. does and use his power to stop the evil.

This last of the three stories focuses less on Ransom and more on a young couple, Mark and Jane, as they unwittingly get pulled into the battle–Jane as a part of Ransom’s company, and Mark as a recruit to N.I.C.E. Their relationship, already strained, becomes more so, as each struggles to put together a vision of what is happening in their small community. These two characters are interesting and sympathetic in their own right and bring the cosmic battle into real life in a way the reader can identify with.

As usual, C. S. Lewis writes with brilliance and insight, but is immensely entertaining at the same time. I have read the first two books many times, but only recently read the third book–and wondered why I had put it off for so long. Fans of realistic or hard Science Fiction may have to work a little harder to suspend disbelief. Lewis is not so concerned with realism as he is with symbolism. Of course, our planets, Mars and Venus, are not capable of supporting the kind of life Ransom finds on them, and I suspect Lewis knew this, but didn’t care, being more interested in other things. But when we accept the stories for what they are–really more fantasy than science fiction–we leave ourselves open for a fabulous reading experience, one I recommend you don’t miss.

In a land that is not quite Alaska, but could be with just a slight shift, Maki has lost both her mother and her father. She has only her older brother, Tsanu left, and a memory of the last story her mother told her, the story of the beautiful, seventh city, where the good people live.

In Seventh City, an historical fantasy by Emily Hayse, Maki and Tsanu make a life for themselves until the invaders come again (the same invaders responsible for her father’s death many years ago). When some of the men of the village stage a raid against the invaders, Tsanu is taken captive. He tells the invaders’ leader, Captain Innes, about the jeweled seventh city, even though he, and all the native peoples of the area know that it is just a story and the city does not exist. The captain covets the riches of the mythical city and decides to stage an expedition to find it, with Tsanu as guide.

Realizing her brother has done this to buy time and save his life, Maki disguises herself as a boy and takes a job caring for the invaders’ horses, even though she knows nothing about these strange animals. She is determined to go with the expedition and rescue her brother.

So begins a wild and treacherous winter adventure. Maki’s understanding of her land, along with her wilderness skills, save the company more than once as they trek into the frozen backlands. To the hardship of the difficult mountain terrain is added the perils of ice, snow, and freezing cold, along with illness and near starvation.

Arrogant and cruel, Captain Innes drives them relentlessly, as he himself is driven by a thirst for riches and glory. When, at last, they reach the mountain where Tsanu has promised they will find the seventh city, they discover what Maki could never have expected.

The native men of Maki’s village follow close behind the expedition, and a final confrontation is brewing, until they uncover one last peril, more terrifying than all the others, that threatens everyone. Maki, Tsanu, the native men, and the men of the expedition must all make difficult decisions, and each one must reach deep within to find the resources and the courage to face the final test.

In the end, Maki discovers that the enmity that seemed so simple in the beginning has become confused with friendship and respect in the fight for survival. She values those who return down the mountain with her, and mourns those left behind in wilderness graves.

Hayse has a thorough knowledge of the landscape and customs of her thinly veiled Alaska, and her love for it is clear. Her land and people are vibrant with life. Maki’s courage and resourcefulness, and even more, her love and loyalty, are a source of joy and inspiration. Although Young Adult stories are not my first choice in literature, this well-written tale of adventure delighted me.

 For more by Emily Hayse, see the June 2022 featured series.

Graysha Brady-Phillips is slowly dying of an incurable disease. And a messy divorce has left her in dire need of money. Raised in an enclosed space-city habitat, she has never been on a planet before—never been in the open under an exposed sky. But now her desperate circumstances require her to step out of her comfortable world and onto a new and dangerous planet.

Shivering World by Kathy Tyers is a Science Fiction novel that gives us Goddard, humanity’s newest habitable world, if a world in the early stages of terraforming can be called habitable. A group of hardy colonists have been given the contract to terraform this new world, and the rumor is that they are using their isolated location to secretly do illegal genetic research. Research that might provide a cure for Graysha’s condition.

Despite the risks of spaceflight, especially precarious to someone with her medical condition, Graysha heads to Goddard to replace a soil scientist killed in a sandstorm. She is surprised she got the job, as she is more a teacher than a scientist, but she’s glad for the opportunity. At the very least, the hazard pay will help her out of her financial difficulties. And perhaps, if she can win the colonists’ confidence, she can find out if they can keep her from dying.

Unfortunately, winning their confidence will not be easy, since Graysha’s mother is the head of the Eugenics Board responsible for banning genetic engineering. She’ll have to prove, somehow, that she is not her mother’s pawn and a spy for the Eugenics Board.

Things on the developing world are physically tough and some of the colonists are suspicious and unwelcoming, which makes Graysha’s adjustment to her new life difficult. And then she finds evidence that someone is trying to sabotage the terraforming process. Life on a hazardous planet becomes even more dangerous.

Tyers’ characters are well-drawn and interesting. From the moment Graysha sets foot on Goddard, weak from the fasting required for space travel, and faces an unsympathetic colonist, I was cheering for her. There are other characters to cheer for in this story as well, and some well-realized antagonists. Tyers handles all her characters skillfully, and even when someone is unlikable, or works against Graysha, their motives are clear and understandable. In a story in which the physical conditions are harsh and the stakes are high for everyone, differing needs and loyalties make for unavoidable clashes among the characters without the need for a cardboard villain.

Tyers weaves journeys of both faith and love into Graysha’s story, giving the book added depth. This is Christian Science Fiction, but it is not preachy. Rather, it’s simply an intriguing story of a young woman doing what she can to survive and find a place for herself in a situation where she faces almost impossible odds. Though it is Science Fiction, set in a distant world, the setting is not too strange or hard to relate to. While Science Fiction fans will find it easy to get into this world, I believe readers who have not read Science Fiction, or have read only a little, will enjoy this as well. It is, at its foundation, just a very human story.

The American Civil War was a great tragedy, and a blot on our nation’s history, but for one Kansas boy, it was the experience that brought him into manhood, taught him courage and loyaty, and gave him an understanding of people who were different from him, with different points of view.

Rifles for Watie, by Harold Keith, is an older book (1957) that has become a timeless classic. Written for teens and young adults, it’s a book with appeal for adults as well. It’s been at least fifty years since I first discovered it, and it still makes my top ten list of favorite books every time.

The story follows the adventures of Jefferson Davis Bussey, a Kansas farm boy, who joins the Union army after a group of Missouri Bushwackers attacks his family’s farm. As an infantryman, he experiences the war up close, in all its bloody detail.  He suffers all the hardships of a foot soldier, including the weariness of walking farther than you think you possibly can, with too little food and too little water, and reaching the end of the march just in time to join in the cacophony of battle and watch your friends die around you.

Though Jeff never loses sight of why his is fighting and retains his staunch loyalty to the Union throughout the story, he has a unique opportunity to see the war from the other side. First, he meets (and falls in love with) Lucy Washbourne, a member of the Cherokee Nation in Oklahoma. Later, when Jeff gets stuck as a spy behind the lines and has to pretend to be a Confederate recruit, he gets an even closer look at the Cherokee rebels and comes to understand their reasons for fighting and to care for them as a people.

While behind the lines, he discovers a plot to smuggle a load of repeating rifles (the latest in war technology at that time), from the north to the headquarters of Stand Watie, the leader of the Cherokee rebels. Despite his love for Lucy and his friendships among the Cherokee fighters, his duty is clear. He dashes away, heading north with his information, with half the rebel army behind him. A life or death chase across rugged terrain lends true excitement to the end of this story.

If you have a young person in your life, from late elementary age and up, I would highly recommend this book as a gift. It has all the excitement of any modern story, a hero we can all root for wholeheartedly and identify with through all his triumphs and sorrows, and insight into a time in our history we should never forget. 

But don’t just get a copy for your favorite young person. Get a copy for yourself, and treat yourself to a great, timeless read.

What could feel more like fantasy than an island covered with castles, a brotherhood of warriors living in a stronghold protected by magic wards, and a hero who creates his magic on an Irish harp.

The Song of Seare by Carla Laureano, is a traditional fantasy trilogy with an Irish inspired setting. The books are Oath of the Brotherhood, Beneath the Forsaken City, and The Sword and the Song. First published in 2014 and 2015 and recently reissued by Enclave, the series is evidence that traditional epic fantasy is not dead, despite the many new subgenres of fantasy that have gained popularity in recent years.

As the story opens, Conor has just finished his fosterage, where he has become an adherent of a forbidden faith. He returns home to a father who has no love for him and packs him off to another castle as a political hostage.

It is here that Conor meets Aine, the woman of his heart. Here he also comes under the tutelage of a master harpist, who helps him discover his magic, released when he composes on the harp. And it is here that Conor begins to discover the perilous plot of an evil blood druid, a plot that threatens everything he loves and especially targets those who share his faith.

To forestall this evil, he must leave Aine and his mentor behind and find a place among the Fíréin, a secretive warrior brotherhood who share his faith. The Fíréin try to protect the old ways of their God while preparing for the promised high king. Among them, Conor learns the warrior skills that will allow him to face the challenges ahead.

As Seare is plunged into darkness, death, and destruction, Conor and Aine must develop their magical gifts, not only to survive, but to uphold truth and save the people of the land from the terror of the druid. They also explore their maturing love against the backdrop of a war that brings them together only to tear them apart again.

Conor and Aine have noticeable flaws, which make them feel human. But they also have a nobility of character and purpose that defines what a hero should be. Their loyalty and endurance in the face of overwhelming odds are inspiring, and the solution Conor discovers in the end, in order to meet the peril and, yes, to overcome, is heartrending and beautiful.

Laureano writes from a Christian worldview and gives us a fully realized world and well-drawn characters vivid with a life of their own. As soon as I began reading, I knew I was in for a grand adventure of the kind we don’t see so often anymore. Written for adults, the sexual content is appropriate to show realistic relations between men and women without ever becoming explicit. The books contain typical fantasy violence, graphic enough to bring home the level of peril faced by the characters, but never gratuitous.

I highly recommend this series for readers who love traditional fantasy. It is also a great entry series for anyone interested in trying epic fantasy for the first time.

We usually try to avoid tough times in the school of hard knocks, even though such times can teach us the things we really need to learn to thrive. Callie, the protagonist of Karen Hancock’s Arena is no different. Despite the many issues in a life that’s going nowhere, she is looking for quick, easy help. She just wants to score an easy infusion of cash when she lets her friend talk her into signing up for a Psychology Department experiment at the local university.

Instead of the short, easy obstacle course she expected, she finds herself in the Arena. This isn’t just a room in a campus building. It’s a completely different world. Her only instructions (at least the only instructions she waited around long enough to hear) are to stay on the white path, where she will find help when she needs it, and an exit portal at the end.

But staying on the white path isn’t as easy as it sounds, and this world is full of strange and unexpected perils. Along the way, she meets up with people who have been trying to get out for as long as five years, and she discovers that not everything or everyone is what they claim to be.

She does find help and makes friends (and some enemies, as well), and survives terrors she could never have imagined. She is forced to face her deepest fears, knowing that she must overcome them to survive, but discovering that she doesn’t have to face them alone. This holds true, even when she’s in danger of losing what she holds most dear.

Arena is a lively adventure story with a core of truth underpinning everything that happens. I was never bored, and I quickly became invested in the varied and interesting characters, cheering hard for some and hoping for others to get what they deserved (and what they deserved was not good, let me assure you). This Christy Award winner is categorized as Fantasy, but it has a Science Fiction lean that makes it feel contemporary even though it’s twenty years old. Enclave has issued a 20^th Anniversary Edition in hardback that is a pleasure to hold and read, and the story itself holds up to the test of time. An excellent read.

Even Assistant Pig-Keepers have big dreams. Yes, that’s right. Not a pig-keeper. A pig-keeper’s assistant. To be fair, the pig Taran helps care for is special pig, an oracular pig. And Taran takes his duties very seriously and cares deeply about Hen Wen’s (the pig’s) welfare. But he also dreams of winning glory as a great warrior. 

Lloyd Alexander’s The Chronicles of Prydain comprise Taran’s story as he grows from a young man, almost, but not quite, still a child, to a wiser (and sometimes sadder) man. The things he learns along the way, both from his guardian, the wizard Dallben, and from his adventures, are things every young person needs to learn. Correction. They are things we all need to learn, whether young or old.

Don’t think this means the books are preachy morality tales. They are, rather, good stories about a young man with whom we grow as he faces the forces of evil, learns how to love, and comes to know himself. And has a chance to win a little glory as well, along the way.

Lloyd Alexander insisted the stories are not set in Wales, but that lovely, legend-rich land is the inspiration for the five-book series (The Book of Three, The Black Cauldron, The Castle of Llyr, Taran Wanderer, and The High King). These well-written fantasy stories from the 1960s have a lively tone that will endear them to children and adults alike. The characters jump off the page as unique individuals, and their adventures are varied and interesting.

I didn’t discover the series until I was mostly grown, and I wish I had known of them sooner, as my child-self would have been enthralled. But, as the best of children’s literature always does, they have great appeal for adults as well. I recently read them again, and found them just as entertaining as the first time around.

If you have children, please consider sharing these books with them. They’ll thank you for a long time, and you’ll be the richer for it as well. If you have no children in your life, don’t think that disqualifies these books from a place on your reading list. They are timeless and ageless. And they are quick reads you can fit into the cracks in your schedule when you need to escape into a less complicated world where good is good and you understand the evil you need to fight. As with many fantasy stores, you might even have clearer vision when you return to the “real” world.

If robots were sentient, would they believe in God? That’s the question Steven James started with when he conceived of his Science Fiction Thriller, Synapse. And his answer was, yes, he believed they would, or at least some of them would, just as organic (natural) people do.

The protagonist of Synapse, Kestrel, loses a baby daughter before she has a chance to get to know her. As she struggles with her grief, her brother, a high official in the company that manufactures Artificials (robots), sends her a consolation gift–an Artificial named Jordon. James’s choice of the term artificial rather than robot is an apt one, as Jordon is so much more than the mechanized robot of earlier science fiction stories and movies. He is lifelike and aware, a real person and an intriguing character despite his origins. 

As Kestrel and Jordon get to know one another, they both struggle with questions of life and death, of faith and eternity. Kestrel is a pastor who isn’t sure how the old answers, the things she believed in and taught, fit into her new reality. When Jordon wants to know if the tenets of Kestrel’s faith apply to him, she doesn’t have an answer. Jordon has to discover the truth for himself.

James allows us to witness, not only Jordon’s conclusions, but also the consequences of that conclusion as Jordon acts on his belief. But even as we see Jordon carry his belief to its logical conclusion, the question is still one James cannot give a definitive answer to. As we get to know and care about Jordon and Kestrel, we can only hope that redemption is for him as well.

These questions are complicated by the seething unrest over the advances in artificial life in Kestrel’s and Jordon’s society. Early in the book, before Kestrel even meets Jordon, she witnesses a terrorist attack at an Artificial plant. And though she has a bias against Artificials due to a tragic accident that took her parents’ lives, she is horrified at the destruction of this attack.

Kestrel, and with her, Jordon, are sucked into the intrigue surrounding the attack and the debate about the continued development and use of Artificials. The suspense is well-paced and exciting, and as things ramp up, both Kestrel and Jordon have their faith tested and find answers. Not answers that sew everything up too neatly. But answers they can live with. Or die with.

The story is a lively mix of Science Fiction and Suspense, with a love interest thrown in. Something for almost everyone.

These War-Torn Hands, the first book in Emily Hayse’s Knights of Tin and Lead trilogy, was at the top of my reading list for May 2022. I purchased the book from Emily at the Realm Makers Conference in 2021 and thought if I liked it, I’d pick up the next one at her table in July of 2022. I started it hoping for an enjoyable read but not expecting much more. It had an interesting concept—a western fantasy—and I wasn’t sure how I would like that.

I’d forgotten how much I like a good western. I used to read one occasionally, back when the western genre still enjoyed a moderate level of popularity. I also enjoyed western films and TV shows as much or more than fantasy and sci-fi shows.

If I’d remembered that about myself, I might have been more prepared when These Ward Torn Hands pulled me in. Hayse combines the flavor of the old western, including its cowboys, dusty pioneer towns, and wide-open spaces, with the knightly character of the traditional fantasy hero. I understand, after reading these books, why she titled the trilogy Knights of Tin and Lead. The tin and lead refer to the marshal’s badges and the bullets that characterize a western.

But the reference to knights comes from the fantasy tradition and constitutes a salute to the physical prowess and high sense of honor of the chivalric knight (never mind the truth that knights in the real world were less than honorable at times—it’s the ideal that traditional fantasy deals with).

The setting is an unidentified “western territory”—an American west after the civil war that has been disconnected from the geographical, historical American west, an alternate land that has all the features of our own western territories with room for a few fantastical one. These include strange, dangerous creatures, among them, dragons, a curse on the land, and a prophecy about ending the curse.

The result of combining these elements is a story that feels very down to earth and, at the same time, mysterious and mythical. I was so fascinated, by the time I was half finished with the first book I’d set aside the rest of my reading pile and ordered the other two books (The Beautiful Ones and In the Glorious Fields). I read through without a pause, which is very rare for me.

The need to break the curse becomes paramount in the third book, In the Glorious Fields, along with the idea that only the best and purest of the settlers could accomplish this task. This motif not only brings to mind the search for the Holy Grail, which only the purest of the knights of the round table could hope to find, but also has Biblical overtones. The themes of sacrifice, redemption, and salvation are clear without being explicit or didactic.

The skillful wrap-up of these themes, packaged in their down-to-earth setting, made for a satisfying conclusion. I also reveled in the relationship of the characters to their surroundings. Their love for the land and their frequent expressions of wonder over its beauty stirred me and left me examining my own physical surroundings with eyes to see the wonder in the world around me. This, I believe, is what a good fantasy (and perhaps a good western as well) should do.

For more by Emily Hayse, see the January 2023 featured book.

Frank Herbert’s Dune has often been touted as one of the best Science Fiction novels of all time, comparable to Fantasy’s great work, The Lord of the Rings. First published in 1965, it won both the Hugo and Nebula awards and holds a place of honor on bookstore shelves yet today.

Herbert’s original series was a trilogy. Bowing to fan pressure, he wrote three additional books, and his son and another writer carried on with the series after his death. I’m featuring just the first book here. I read the first three many years ago but have not reread books 2 (Dune Messiah) and 3 (Children of Dune) recently and don’t remember them well enough to talk about them or recommend them. I reread Dune last year to prepare myself for the movie release last fall.

I remember enjoying the book the first time around, and enjoyed it just as much this last time, perhaps even more.

The novel follows Paul Atreides as he travels across space with his family to take control of the desert world, Arrakis (informally known as Dune). The family has grown too powerful, and the emperor has ordered them to Dune in a scheme to bring about their downfall.

Dune is a forbidding world, but contains the spice needed for interstellar travel. It has the potential to make the family fabulously wealthy or to destroy them. Fate and the machinations of other powerful families make a good start in bringing about the second option (destruction), and Paul seems doomed.

Despite the alien world they live in, the characters Herbert created come to life as people we can relate to. The power struggles that sweep across Dune, swirling into a destructive force much like the sandstorms of that harsh world, are not so different from the struggles that have swept through our human history on earth (and still tears cities and homes apart today). The individual tragedies are also not that different from the tragedies of living humans, and Paul’s resilience can be traced in a thousand human stories.

Herbert’s in-depth world building, so realistically drawn, brings Dune to life. The story arc never lags. The writing itself is beautiful and compelling. And these pieces interlock to create a stellar reading experience. If you take the leap (it’s a long read), you’ll remember it for a long time. The movie (covering the first half of the novel) is pretty good, too. I recommend you read the book first (if you haven’t already) and then enjoy the movie. If you’ve already seen the movie, don’t waste any time getting to the book. It’s a great read.

Patrick W. Carr’s The Staff and The Sword trilogy is pure fantasy of the traditional variety, and a lot of fun. The three books are A Cast of Stones, The Hero’s Lot, and A Draw of Kings. They follow the adventures of Errol, a boy who starts out in the gutter and ends up in the inner circle of kings and prelates as they fight to save their country from invasion. It’s standard stuff for the genre. Some readers might be disgruntled by its lack of unique cultures based on diverse mythologies, but these books contain enough unique elements to keep them fresh, while delivering a rousing adventure.

One unique element is Errol’s use of the staff as his main weapon, rather than the sword that is usual in so many fantasies. He does become a swordsman later in the books, but he is a master with the staff, and this allows for some unique fighting scenes. Another interesting aspect is the method of carving lots as a way of making major decisions. Errol discovers a gift for this, which entangles him in the intrigue of the halls of power in his world.

Carr included a twist at the end, which he foreshadowed throughout the trilogy, but I saw it coming from book one. As a surprise twist, I felt it was too obvious, but that detracted very little from my enjoyment of the books. The characters and story are engaging, and I look forward to a reread someday (or a dip into one of Carr’s other series).

Carr writes from a Christian world view, but his trilogy is not preachy and is very well written. It’s a trilogy any fantasy lover can enjoy, and is very accessible to readers who are new to the genre as well.

Byzantium by Stephen R. Lawhead is an old favorite from my book collection. It follows the adventures of Aiden, a monk in a quiet Irish monastery. The monks struggle to keep literacy and scholarship alive in Western Europe, while the Vikings raid and plunder, threatening to destroy everything the monks

Chosen to join a group of monks on a quest to deliver the hand-illuminated Book of Kells to the emperor in Byzantium, Aiden encounters Vikings, travels as their slave to the fabled city, and from there into Saracen territory, before returning home again to Ireland. He faces death and desire, comes face to face with the evil in the world, and finds his faith shaken to the core.

Lawhead gives us a fully realized picture of twelfth century Europe and the Middle East, painting Aiden’s personal journey against the backdrop of Viking sea battles, magnificent Christian cathedrals, and imposing Abbasid palaces.

In the end, it is the most unlikely person who shows him the way to truth. I am moved and inspired by the resolution each time I read this story.

At over 800 pages, it can seem a daunting prospect to make it to the end, but it is well-written tale, fully worth the time commitment—a book I highly recommend.

I first read Mary Steward’s Arthurian trilogy as an undergraduate (many years ago) The books are The Crystal Cave, The Hollow Hills, and The Last Enchantment. The is a fourth book, The Wicked Day, which Stewart completed later and which I only recently discovered.

I’ve been thinking about some of the story elements in the Arthurian legend in conjunction with planning a future Seven Worlds Dominion novel and decided to revisit Stewart’s series. I reread the trilogy during the second half of 2021, and then continued on to read The Wicked Day for the first time.

The trilogy is written in first person, through Merlin’s point of view and tells the story of his life. I enjoyed this perspective immensely, and Stewart’s prose is flawless. She lingers lovingly over those descriptive details that make a story world come to life. Yet, despite her sometimes lush descriptions, the stories never drag.

My favorite was the first book, which details Merlin’s early life and lets us see how he became the great seer of legend. Stewart takes a historical approach to the legend, setting it in early Britain, just after Rome has been pushed out. All three books in the trilogy were fascinating, though I enjoyed the last less, as Merlin falls victim to schemes and plots and begins to lose his powers.

Book four, The Wicked Day, is the story of King Arthur’s illegitimate son, Mordred, told mostly from his point of view. I missed the voice of Merlin, and though this book is as well written as you would expect from a talent like Stewart, I didn’t enjoy it as much.

I wasn’t on board with her handling of Mordred’s character and his motivations, for one thing. It’s also the book that shows us the fall of Arthur and the end of his kingdom. Knowing what was coming, I found it hard to keep going to the bitter end. That, however, is a fault of the legend and not of Stewart’s rendering.