The Osiris Child - Review

Ever watch a movie where you spend most of the runtime bitching about it with your friend? It's not that good, but it's not quite bad enough to walk away from.

And then the last five minutes hit you over the head, and you think; why is this not the start of the movie?! I'd watch the crap out of that movie.

That was my experience of the futuristic 2016 Australian film The Osiris Child, which follows the efforts of military man Kane (Daniel MacPherson) to rescue his daughter during a break-out of genetically engineered monsters.

Now, to be scrupulously fair, there was a lot that this movie did right. It had Temuera Morrison as a depraved prison warden, Isabel Lucas and Luke Ford playing an insane pair of hillbilly siblings, and the practical-effect monsters were a breath of fresh air in Hollywood's sea of CGI creatures. And while I didn't particularly care for Kellan Lutz's character at first, he grew on me and eventually delivered the signature performance of the film.

It was these short bursts of brilliance that kept me watching, even when the confusing time-jumps had me scratching my head.  Particularly when so many of these issues could have been fixed with smoother transition between scenes; for example, having Kane be told about the company's real plans while walking to the hanger deck would have made a neat segway into that mid-air ship-to-ship fight, rather than jumping randomly into the middle of it and leaving the audience to play catch up.

I'm also undecided about the movie's choice to play coy on who the true protagonist was until the very end. On the one hand it was a relief to see a deconstruction of the standard "father on a mission to save his estranged daughter" plot. On the other, a single viewpoint would have streamlined the movie, padding it out where it was needed and trimming the fat where it wasn't. Some scenes, like the opening of Kane teaching Indi to shoot, felt entirely superfluous, as they introduced nothing that couldn't be easily inserted elsewhere.

On reflection, I'm curious to know if this was originally shot as a web-series. It's divided into six chapters or volumes that could be accepted as self-contained stories, and would make some of the transitions easier to accept. However, I can't find anything that confirms this.

All practical effects. 

All of this said... I didn't hate it.

It had the practical effects and twisted thinking that I love about Australian science fiction. Gyp and Bill could have jumped out of Farscape's cast of loony characters and while not perfect, the monsters felt real. Like the titular creatures of Alien or Predator, they were physically present for the actors to interact with. Despite losing some scare factor at the end (you'll see why) my biggest complaint is that we didn't see more of their murderous rampage across planet.

That and why the hell does everyone apart from Temuera Morrison have American accents?!

Final Verdict: Okay. Has some moments of brilliants and a great ending, but confusing transitions and loses points for trying to cater to the overseas market. Australian and Kiwi accents are awesome, people. Own it.

Who's Afraid by Maria Lewis

Maria Lewis has a new book out, which makes it a good time to go back to her first urban fantasy novel Who's Afraid.

The protagonist Tommi is a young woman seeking out her birth family in New Zealand, only to stumble across a world-shattering secret. (Spoiler alert: she's a werewolf). Said family reunion does not go well and now she must fight to defend herself and her loved ones.

There's a lot that's good about this book. Its premise is similar to Kelly Armstrong's Otherworld series - young woman undergoes traumatic initiation to the supernatural community - but it approaches the subject matter in its own unique way. Sometimes I'd argue a better way. For example, when your family knocks you out and locks you in a cage, it's not for your own good. They're just assholes.

However the book is undermined by its jarring tones. Tommi's light breezy narrative clashes with the trauma she undergoes, and not in a 'bad things happen to good people' kind of way. More as if it can't decide what kind of story it wants to tell. Halfway through a riveting tale of abduction and escape, the book takes a sharp  turn into paranormal romance.

To be clear, there's nothing wrong with paranormal romance. Nor is there anything wrong with dark and deconstructive. In this instance, the combination just doesn't work well together.

It's hard to care about Tommi's forbidden relationship with the mysterious Lorcan when the first half of the book worked so hard to set up her conflict with her family. Lorcan works perfectly well as a mentor figure and exposition-giver. But as a love interest, he offers nothing I haven't see a hundred times already and - if I'm being completely honest - comes off as kind of skeevy, given what Tommi just went through.

Finally, I found the presentation of Maori culture problematic, similar to Stephanie Meyer's appropriation of Quileute beliefs. For a more indepth outline, see this article which articulates it far better than I ever could.

There's a good story in Who's Afraid, about a vicious fight for survival and families of choice versus blood. Unfortunately it focuses on the least interesting aspect, making it a rather frustrating read. I may get round to the sequel eventually, but I'm not exactly panting for it.

Final Verdict: Okay. Has good stuff, but I'd like it better if it could follow through on the grittiness of its premise.

"I screamed, and not with fear this time, with pure exhileration. It took me a second to realise I wasn't screaming at all. Following me down into the unknown was a piercing howl."

Daughter of the Forest by Juliet Marillier

So are we still putting women on pedestals now?

I really thought we were past the Madonna/Whore complex, but apparently not. According to Daughter of the Forest, the perfect woman is... well, perfect. She never makes a mistake, never says the wrong thing, she's an accomplished healer by twelve years old, always obeys her moral code to the letter, and suffers in silent martyrdom for the good of her brothers/husband.

And the really, really annoying this is that otherwise, this was a very good book. It was a lovely adaptation of the fairy-tale 'The Seven Swans' with a dreamy sort of mood that conjured up misty, romantic images of pre-Christian Britain. (or possibly Ireland - I was a little unclear on where it was set). The main character, Sorcha, has seven brothers who are cursed by their stepmother to become wild swans and Sorcha must complete a long, painful task to free them. If Sorcha hadn't been so damn perfect, it would have been one of the best books I'd ever read.

In case you're thinking I'm being too hard on Sorcha, think back on all the other books you've read. The most compelling characters were the ones like FitzChivalry of the Farseer Trilogy, who reacted to his social shunning with surliness and anger, and caused as many of his own problems as he solved. Or, if we're going with Australian fantasy, the ones like Axis from Battleaxe, who was an absolute prick but got the job done, usually in a way that ended with bodies on the ground.

In comparison, Sorcha is just boring. She's porridge while Fitz is a rich tender steak and Axis is a spicy curry. And she could have been so very interesting with just a little bit of tweaking. Her brothers all adore her? Okay, make her a little spoiled. She's a prodigy healer? Fine, give her a bit of an ego. Or if she has to have that romance with the foreign leader, then make her kind of a bigot - everyone else is, so it's not like she'll stand out. Otherwise we're just watching someone go through a series of trials from which she learns absolutely nothing because she was perfect to begin with.

Unfortunately, this book was still good enough that I've already read one of the sequels, which has exactly the same problem so I can't excuse it as the author having an off book. Damn her. I'm so confused; I don't know whether to enjoy her books or be furiously annoyed by them. This must be what people who like Twilight feel like.

"I had once told Simon he could make his tale end any way he liked. But this was not strictly true. I set my path straight ahead; but there were others that influenced its course, that diverted and changed and confused it."

Song of the Summer King by Jess E. Owen

Xenofiction can be misleading, can't it? To look at the covers of The Dorset Squirrels or Duncton Wood, you'd think they were about fluffy cute rodents and their gosh-darn adorable troubles.

(To give you a hint; not fluffy, not cute, and not adorable by any stretch of the imagination).

However, I'm happy to report that I've found a book about sentient animals you can give to your kid and not worry about those years of therapy. I picked up Song of the Summer King at Supanova, and while dealing with some serious themes, it can be safely enjoyed by young teenagers.

Oh yeah, and it has griffins! Who doesn't love griffins?

The premise is a young griffin named Shard coming of age in his pride. The pride is composed of two elements; the Vanir griffins native to the area and the larger Aesir griffins who took the territory by force a generation earlier. Shard is the only surviving male of pure Vanir blood, making him a figure of interest to pretty much everyone. He has to choose between the ways of the invaders and the ways of his forebears.

Art by Jennifer Miller

This could easily have been a very black-and-white story, but I think Owens has managed some real nuance in how she explores cultural imperialism. While the Aesir did some awful things she takes care to show they are not an inherently evil race. They're just people... or griffins... with the usual mix of good and bad. And Shard has known them his whole life, so his struggle to choose a side feels real and heartfelt. The standout character for me was Shard's nest-father, whose gruff relationship with his mate and adoptive son was surprisingly sweet. In fact, the entire book was respectful of both blood and adoptive families, dismissing neither and giving due weight to both. This is how you handle adoption, peoples.

Outside of Shard's nest-father, however, the characters are kind of two-dimensional. It's not a fatal flaw in a young teenage novel, but this book is definitely not Sabriel, which can be enjoyed by young and old alike. It's like I could see what kind of characters were being portrayed, but their motivations didn't always make sense. They were just doing what they were doing because the plot demanded it.

For example, Shard didn't have any real reason to learn the old ways. He'd already got what he wanted; he'd succeeded at the hunt, was granted the right to stay in the pride, and was best bros with the Crown Prince. No one risks all that to 'make the pride stronger' unless they're already at risk of losing it all anyway.

Art by Jennifer Miller

What might have worked better was if the order of events was switched around. If the hunt had taken place in the middle of the novel instead of the beginning, that would have given Shard a concrete goal to strive for and a damn good reason to break the rules. It's outright stated that he's the skinny runt of his generation so the old ways would be his way of compensating. Ie. 'If I get caught learning the old ways I'll be exiled, but if I fail the hunt, I'll be exiled anyway, so I might as well take the risk'.  

Other than that, I have no complaints. It's clearly meant for young adults, so me and my nitpicking are not the target audience. I'd recommend it to teenagers in the 12-14 range. There's some violence, but it's not explicit, and sex is only vaguely referred to. The animalistic body-language was nice and I'd have liked to see even more of the descriptive language of the landscape. I'm also hoping for a cross-species romance between Shard and the young wolf Catori in the sequels, but that might just be my weirdness talking, not any real possibility of it.

Song of the Summer King can be ordered in paperback from Booktopia or Book Depository, or in electronic form from Amazon or Barnes & Noble.

And if you love the cover art, like I do, check out the artist on her website or Deviant Art. All the art I've used in this post is hers, simply because she does such gorgeous work.

Circle of Fire by Keri Arthur

It occurs to me that I've been doing a lot of high fantasy on this blog, but nothing in the way of urban fantasy, which is just a crying shame because there are some damn good paranormal authors out there.

The book I'm reviewing today is Circle of Fire, which is the first novel in the Damask Circle trilogy and involves a woman with psychic abilities trying to save missing children from a supernatural threat. While not the best urban fantasy I've ever read - that honor goes to Kim Harrison's Hollows series - it does have its own light charm. 

The story is fairly interesting, involving kidnappings and dark rituals, but is unfortunately overshadowed by the less-than-compelling sexual tension between the two main characters. Note that this might be due to my own bias, as I can't stand 'true love' that happens over a course of twenty-four hours and a single sexual encounter where one of the participants was drugged...

....and I just made it sound a whole lot worse than it really is. Okay, backing up. 

The supernatural elements are the best part of the book, as the main character Madeline steps deeper into a world she's only been peripherally aware of. There's just enough hints to give us a taste of what's to come, while leaving plenty of fodder for the next book. 

As a character Madeline is a bit of a doormat, but considering her background you can understand why. Not only does she have a power she can't control, she's the survivor of an abusive relationship, is estranged from her family, and the suspect in a murder. And all of this is prior to the events in the book. Fortunately the plot is about her growing out of her shell and fixing back together her shattered self-confidence, so things do get better for her. 

The main male character Jon was a rather generic love interest as supernatural novels go: mysterious, brooding alpha male with hint of danger. As a lot of the tension in the book centered around his interactions with Madeline, that's probably part of why I wasn't overly invested in the romance. If I don't care for one of the characters, I can't care about the relationship. The one thing I can say for him is that he treats Madeline with respect, which is something a lot of love interests in paranormal novels struggle with (I'm looking at you, Edward). 

To sum it up, I've read a lot worse urban fantasy - do not get me started on Stray - and at least the characters were attempting to act with consistent logic. The action starts slow, but picks up speed around the halfway point (noting that that isn't a particularly long book in the first place). So long as you don't take it too seriously it'll do you no lasting harm. 

Which, in all honesty, is pretty good advice concerning most urban fantasy.

Circle of Fire can be ordered in digital form on Amazon, and in phyiscal form on Booktopia and Book Depository. Otherwise, Keri Arthur is fairly popular at the moment so just check the paranormal section at your local bookstore. 

Innocence Lost by Karen Miller

It's been a week and I think I've let Innocence Lost settle enough. Time for a review!

Innocence Lost is the sequel to the Innocent Mage. It pays off on the plotlines started in the first book and references events from it. So, obviously, there will be spoilers.

Innocence Lost begins with the discovery of the deaths of nearly the entire royal family, leaving Prince Gar the only heir. However, as his manifestation of magic is only recent, his position is far from secure, leaving him vulnerable to political monouvering. When his magic fails entirely, he asks his friend Asher to break their most ancient law in order to protect his kingdom and throne.

If I had to pick one theme in this book, it would be consequences. Everything that happens in this book is a consequence of an earlier decision by the characters, be it a year in the past, or twenty years, or a thousand years. There are so many ways that this could have ended more happily; if the Doranen hadn't led Morg to the Olken, if they hadn't asked them to give up their magic, if Durm hadn't looked beyond the wall, if Willer had been more loyal... I don't think there's a single decision these characters make that doesn't come back to bite them.

Gar, as in the first book, is a far more interesting character than Asher. He actually has something he wants, and his efforts to attain or keep this are the driving force of the story. Asher in comparison spends most of the story being pushed one way or another by other people's motives. I do feel sorry for him, and to Millar's credit, his reactions feel real. When he gets screwed over, he reacts with anger and frustration. When a friend lets him down, he's hurt and upset.

The other characters had their moments as well. Conroyd was the usual amorally ambitious politician, who had a moment of near-redemption toward the end, while Darran's absolute dedication to Gar was touchingly demonstrated. In contrast, Dathne whose deceptiveness and ruthlessness was rather interesting in the last book (like when she served up the cakes to the prisoner) was suddenly reduced to the love interest and didn't take any further initiative of her own. I feel if you'd taken Veira out and had Dathne take over her role, you'd have a much more dynamic character.

The ending I was torn about. I felt the final chapter had everything working out too conveniently considering the bloody near-Armageddon that just happened, but this is high fantasy. And in a weird way, it ties in with the books' constant debate regarding qualifications of rulership. All up, it's a good sequel that follows through on everything that was promised to us by the first.