Lotus Blue by Cat Sparks

Confession time: I've read a lot of teen fiction. I'm pretty sure by now I could identify it blind-folded and spun in a circle.

And I still have no idea if Lotus Blue is teen fiction or not.

It's a dystopian sci-fi novel by Cat Sparks, which combines the advanced tech and rich world-building of Dune with the post-apocalyptic nightmare of the Max Max movies. It's set in futuristic Australia, after world-wide war has broken civilisation down to chaotic remnants. The main character Star and her sister Nene live as nomadic traders, scraping a dangerous living on the Sand Road. But after a disastrous event, Star discovers a terrible secret and is forced into confrontation with the forces that once shattered humanity.

This is one of those books that straddles the boundary of target audiences. In some ways it's geared toward the teenage girl readership, as as it follows a young woman's voyage of self-discovery.  And while there's a lot death, it never crosses the line into sensationalizing it.

However I'd hesitate to call it teen fiction due to the nasty edge of realism. Decisions have dire consequences and there's no brooding bad boy lurking conveniently in the background to swoop in and save Star. Love triangles are also mercifully lacking. In fact -  interestingly - sexuality is barely alluded to, possibly because the characters have so many other urgent priorities, like not dying. Not-dying is very important to them.

I should also note that Star is much less annoying than your average teen protagonist. Yes, she makes foolish decisions the reader can see coming a mile away. No, she never gets away with it. In fact, her entire character arc is about learning practicality. Bad things happen, some dreams won't come true, not all friends can be relied on, and denial won't change anything.

This development is contrasted with her enemies, who don't grow at all and are arguably responsible for nearly everything that goes wrong due to their inability to perceive anything except what they want to see. The most destructive thing in this world apparently isn't the pure unrelenting malice of rogue AI but the foolishness and willful ignorance of humanity. You don't have to be a moustache-twirling villain to end the world. You just need to be the dumbass that presses the button labelled 'don't press this'.

It's a melancholy outlook, but I liked it. Maybe Star was never going to reach for the sky or be saved by a white knight on a mighty steed, but by the end she could damn well survive whatever horrible trauma life threw at her and keep on trucking (Heh, trucking. That's a little black comedy joke you'll only get after Chapter Two).

Final Verdict: Good. If you're looking for something in the vein of Paolo Bacigalupi's Ship Breaker, I'd definitely recommend this.

"No matter what the Road threw at them, Nene was always

steadfast in her hope. Nene's hope was wearing Star to the bone."

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.

The Broken Well Trilogy by Sam Bowring

What's there to say about Sam Bowring's Broken Well trilogy?

'Go and read it!' is a start. However, since that would make a pretty short review, I'll try and go into more detail.

Think of the Broken Well like "reverse Star Wars".

At first glance, these two works appear to follow the same rules - and not just because Star Wars is high fantasy set in space. Both have a literal black-and-white religion where you're either following the pretty gods of light (the 'light' side) and are good, or you're following the dark creepy gods (ie, the dark side) and are unrepentantly evil. No backsies, no do-overs, do not pass go or collect $200.

If you didn't know this was high

fantasy, clearly you need to go 
back and watch again.

They also revolve around a prophesied Chosen One that will decide the battle between light and dark... blah blah savior... blah blah destiny. You know the drill. Literally fifty percent of fantasy has this premise.

The Anakin Skywalker stand-in of Bowring's universe is a blue-haired infant born on neutral ground. Upon discovering this, the light side does the obvious ethical thing and sends agents to protect the family from the machinations of the-

- Holy crap, did they just steal a baby?! 

Yep, they totally just stole a baby. While fighting darksiders with the same idea. And just to rub in that light emphatically does NOT equal good, they also had a magical tug of war. Using the baby.

Fortunately, this being a magical tug of war, instead of a splatter of gooey insides we get two whole infants, each with a separate aspect of the original kid's personality. Losara is stolen by the "bad guys" while Bel is stolen by the "good guys". So within the first chapter, we have a protagonist literally torn between light and dark.

And more importantly, we learn that everything I just told you is a lie. Nothing in this world is as
simple as it looks. Dark and light have nothing to do with morality, faith is a poor replacement for strategy, and no one's hands are clean in war.

Sadly, the old 'beard or no-beard' test has proved unreliable.

Remember this because it's the overarching theme of the trilogy.

That's great, you may be thinking, but what does that have to do with Star Wars? This isn't the first fantasy novel to challenge black-and-white coded morality (Sara Douglass and Ann Bishop are two of a few million examples). So lets look at the protagonists.

Our light-sided warrior Bel has a lot in common with Anakin Skywalker. He's a magnificent fighter, ruled by his passions, and romantically devoted to a woman he has nothing in common with. And just as Anakin has a bad habit of dismissing any opposition as "evil", Bel blindly assumes that everything dark is an abomination.

Yet this is just a symptom of a deeper problem. Bel, by his own admission, possesses no higher convictions or ideals. He couldn't tell you specifically why the light is better, because deep down, he doesn't care what side he fights on. The only reason he fights for the light is sheer chance. Had he been stolen by the dark, he'd have fought just as passionately for them.

The one on the left has blue hair.

That's how you tell them apart.

Anakin also had a dim understanding of what he was fighting for (recall his arguments for dictatorship during that schmaltzy romance scene in the meadow) and was only committed to the Jedi insofar as they didn't stand in the way of getting what he wanted. He had zero problems lying to them or violating their rules, and the moment they became an obstacle, he turned on them.

So what does this mean? Aside from Bel's idiocies being a bit more justified than Anakin's?

Well... maybe it's a pointed commentary on what happens when you demonise your enemies.

See, both Anakin and Bel were born balanced between light and dark. Bel was initially unified with Losara. Anakin was told his purpose was not to fight for either side, but to keep both sides in check (see the brilliant Mortis arc of The Clone Wars cartoon series). However, they were both recognised as Chosen Ones and taken to be raised by the light, which is where things go wrong.

Both children were taught a very simple life philosophy: light is good, dark is bad. Losara was a "dark worm" that Bel is better off without, and Anakin's ordinary human emotions (fear, anger, love) must be purged. Understandable when you're raising the Chosen One, and you don't want him having doubts at a critical juncture. Yet utterly inadequate when dealing with real-world situations.

And predictably enough, when dealing with the complexities of adulthood, these simple codes completely fail them. Neither youth has any idea how to deal with a situation that's not black and white. Bel throws a tantrum when his girlfriend and father are (justifiably) arrested for committing crimes, while Anakin falls to pieces when he believes his wife is going to die and the Jedi either can't or won't help. And before you say anything, Vader isn't any better. He's simply Anakin adjusting his moral code to suit himself; if the Sith can help him, then the Sith are good and the Jedi are bad. He just swings from one kind of extremism to another.

It's only in Losara that we see any kind of balance, and that's only because he has an advantage the others don't. Unclouded, unbiased logic.

The dark sorcerer who performs human sacrifice and
political assassination...and is the only guy 
who seems to know what he's doing. 

See, because Bel got all the passion, Losara is physically incapable of reacting with strong emotion. This lack means he immediately sees the contradiction between what he's told and what he's observed. He can't hate or fear, so he alone can see both sides for what they truly are. And while that doesn't stop him from doing what he must (seriously he does some scary shit), he's also the only person who makes any effort to avoid the war.

Perhaps the scene that best encapsulates Losara is his meeting with the dark gods. They demand that he serves them first, over and above even his people. He considers this - bearing in mind he is physically in front of the gods at this time - and replies "I'll serve you as well". Not an outright rejection, but an offer of compromise. Later he even suggests to Bel that they withdraw to their respective lands and ignore the prophecy.

That's Losara in a nutshell. Balance. Compromise. Coexistence.

Of course he'll murder your allies in an unholy ceremony and unleash an unkillable monster on your army if you insist on war. But the point is, he gave you an out. It's not his fault you didn't take it.

On the one hand this could imply the Jedi were right - lack of emotion is the way to go - but actually shows how wrong they were. Rejecting and demonising an entire aspect of one's self, religion, or country leads to ruin. The Jedi and Sith have been fighting the same war for millennia, in the same vicious cycle of retribution and counter-retribution. Bel and Losara's gods didn't do themselves any favours when they parted ways; they just made it possible to destroy each other.

Losara and Bel eventually both acknowledge this, that neither of them are whole and that a great wrong was done to them. Whatever you think of the ending (which I won't go into detail on) it's at least suggested that the cycle of violence has been broken. Whereas Luke Skywalker, who won by utterly rejecting the dark side, saw the same cycle start up again a few years down the road in Force Awakens.... Man, this article gone in a depressing direction.

Anyway, this leaves just one last question.

Is there a second version of Anakin Skywalker running around the Star Wars universe, maybe trying to fix everything his double broke?

Someone who encapsulates everything Anakin is not. Someone utterly brilliant, devious and genre savvy. Someone immune to manipulation and strategically unparalleled -

Holy crap. It's Admiral Thrawn.

Admit it. It's all starting to make sense now.

The Sea and Summer by George Turner

One of the things I love about this blog project is that I keep discovering all these obscure, wonderful Aussie writers that have been forgotten or overlooked by the mainstream.

George Turner's The Sea and Summer (published in the US as The Drowning Towers) is a perfect example. This novel centers around a family during a time of social turmoil and uses this very personal setting to explore the consequences of climate change. It's a fascinatingly melancholy tale that richly deserves it's status of science fiction classic, and yet I'd never heard of it before now.

Despite being written by the seventies by a successful mainstream novelist and being one of the few Australian-written books on Gollancz's SF Masterworks, it seems almost unknown by my generation. Considering that I did a creative writing degree at an Australian university and all my friends are book-nerds or librarians, I'm bewildered that I haven't even heard of it before. Not even a passing mention
                                                            or a website review.

What I enjoyed about The Sea and Summer was the lack of an antagonist. Most dystopian books are stories of resistance, of little people against oppressive regimes like 1984 or the Hunger Games. For them there are terrible external enemies that must be vanquished for the world to right itself. 

But for George Turner's characters, the enemy is far more subtle than that. It comes from within. The family's downfall from 'Sweet' (financially self-sufficient) to 'Swill' (living on government subsidies) begins with the loss of the father's job. And as the burdens of poverty and social class press in on them, the entire family makes choices on how to deal with it; some selfish, some tragic. 

In a way their family is a metaphor for modern attitudes to environmental and economic disaster. That sense of "this problem's too big, I can't fix it, I can only save myself". That sense of abdicated responsibility as they make their own individual grabs for solvency. Yet - and this is very important - none of the family ever manage to escape the Swill. They each pay dearly for an illusion of freedom, but they all end up in the Swill one way or another. The problem is too big to be escaped, as is the inevitable creeping cultural shift. The only way to survive it (not stop it, there's no stopping what's been put into motion) is together.

It's the most oddly depressing and yet hopeful book I've ever read, with a pensive attitude towards climate change. It matter-of-factly dismisses the notion of  the end of the world, pointing out humanity's ability to adapt to much worse disasters with far less technology. But it also is very clear that adaptation will come with painful, difficult change. We don't get away without consequences.

Perhaps the subject matter is why this book isn't well known. With climate change and economic strife in the news, the last thing that readers want is reality tainting their escapism. Which is a shame, because of all the books on the subject, this is probably the most realistic and least hysterical. 

City of Light by Keri Arthur

As a rule, I steer clear of Keri Arthur's work. Not because it isn't good (it is), but because it leans too far into paranormal romance territory for my tastes. I like my action bloodier and my romance more subdued.

But her recent novel, City of Light, is like she psychically sensed all my reservations and wrote a 300 page book just to prove me wrong. 

It's set in a future dystopia after humanity lost a war with shapeshifters (thus combining my two favorite things; magic and science fiction). Life is hard on everyone, but especially Tiger, a genetically engineered supersoldier that miraculously survived the purge of her kind after the war. She spends her time hiding out in an old lab and talking to ghosts, until she rescues two living people and is reluctantly drawn into a mystery of disappearing children and illegal experimentation.

What's interesting about Tiger is that she exists so much in her head. Being discovered as dechet is a death sentence so she spends most of her time calculating who to lie to and what to lie about. It makes the outside world so exhausting it's completely understandable why Tiger would prefer to be alone and not deal with that rig-moral.

The real surprise is that she's not more introverted and bitter than she is. What happened to her kind is horrifying, especially when they were the most blameless faction in the war. They were exploited by humans, murdered by the shapeshifters, and depicted as monsters by history.  It's the kind of horrendous injustice that can only be reflected by real life and Tiger is way too calm and philosophical about it.

To kill or not to kill Jonas.
That is the question. 

For example, there is that gem of a moment where potential love-interest Jonas first refuses to believe in the dechet massacres, then says it was the only way to get rid of the "perversion". And he throws it in the face of a woman he suspects to be a survivor. If Tiger had decided to throw Jonas to the vampire horde there and then, I'd have held her coat. I didn't hate even Branna this much because at least Branna was upfront about wanting to kill Tiger. Jonas' words are something more insidious.

I will say this though - Tiger doesn't turn into a puddle of goo when Jonas softens toward her. She correctly perceives that his shift in attitude isn't a change of opinion toward her kind, just a re-evaluation of how valuable her skill-set is. Like her human masters before him, he wants to use her. And she is not afraid to tell him and his asshole friends to eat a dick.

Slow. Fucking. Clap.

I really hope that she doesn't backslide in the next novel, because it is incredibly satisfying to see a protagonist stick to her guns. If Jonas does become a love interest in Winter Halo, he'd better do some damn character development first.

Shifting Reality by Patty Jensen

Shifting Reality was a surprise for me. I downloaded some samples from Amazon and was flicking through them when I was abruptly hooked by Patty Jansen.

The story bolts out of the gate right from the first word. No waffling, no info dumps, the technology neatly outlined within a few paragraphs. Within the first chapter, the world has already taken shape along with the character's place within it. You know her priorities, the pressures she's under and her relationships with other people. Better yet, you care.

It's the kind of opening I love. That feeling like you've just harpooned a whale and forgotten the rope wrapped around your leg. That feeling of 'I guess I have no choice now, I'm following this through to the end'.

Melati is a teacher within the New Jakarta space station, assigned to oversee fast-grown clone soldiers. When one of her charges makes an incredible claim, she must solve a mystery of identity theft and murder against a background of war. She's hampered by class clashes between decks and two cultures that would both like her to shut up and stop pointing out the obvious.

Melati is a brilliant protagonist. She has a sharp moral compass that won't allow her to overlook wrongdoing, but she's not standing on any soapboxes. She lives in a morally gray world and accepts it. The times she speaks up or intervenes she is completely within reason to do so, such her uncle knowingly serving human traffickers at his restaurant despite Melati being a former victim of theirs. Which makes it all the more frustrating when people tell her she's overreacting.

In a way, she's like Steve Rogers if he was female, dark-skinned and Muslim. Stripped of the privileges of Roger's gender, race and religion, Melati makes similar refusals to back down from what she knows is right, but the world isn't half as prepared to listen. And she doesn't have the option of punching anyone in the face.

The twists and turns of the story can occasionally be difficult to follow, but for the most part is clear. My only real criticism is that the antagonist/s (?) comes out of nowhere. There is some set up, but it doesn't make for a particularly satisfying pay-off. However it's implied that this will be explored further in the sequel, so I'm happy.

Shifting Reality is accessible, well-written science fiction that balances fantastic flights of imagination with real-world issues. The characters are human and relateable, even when their actions are silly or distasteful, and the plot will suck you in from the word 'go'. Whether you like a good mystery or a good sci-fi, this is the book for you.

"Words, words, words. No one ever did anything. They just made promises." 

Great Zoo of China by Matthew Reilly

I was really trying not to do this. I did not want to review this book.

The Great Zoo of China is just... bad. Really, really bad.

Like the worst rip-off of Jurassic Park you've ever read, but with a  half-arsed attempt at dragons instead of dinosaurs. And not in a fun I-know-this-is-crap-but-I'm-going-to-have-fun-with-it-anyway. More like Matthew Reilly pitched this idea to his publisher when he was drunk, and then had to write it sober to a deadline that kept getting pushed forward, and the stress killed whatever love he had for the material, and he would have stopped but his kitchen really needed a renovation... You get the idea.

To be honest, I don't care that the human characters are flat and one-dimensional. In a story like this, they're just walking meat puppets. They're only around long enough to die gruesomely. But the one thing that should have been developed coherently are the dragons.

Unfortunately the story can't decide what metaphor it's exploring. Jurassic Park's dinosaurs, depending on whether you go by the book or movie, were either an exploration of the dangers of technology or the consequences of not applying technology wisely. The Great Zoo of China is initially similar, then sort of devolves into a weird "don't use dangerous dragons as cuddly theme park attractions, except for the good dragons, they're okay" space-whale aesop.

The sad part is Reilly completely missed the interesting point, which was "holy crap, they're knowingly enslaving intelligent life!" No wonder the dragons were so uptight. If I were a carnivorous ancient reptile forced to perform circus trips for barely evolved creatures I'd have eaten back in the good old days, you bet I'd be up for some carnage.

By neatly sidestepping all the tricky, interesting questions like 'how do you deal with sentient life with a legit grudge, blue-and-orange morality, and really big teeth' the book loses a lot of its oomph. It felt like someone was trying to mash a creature feature and a junior high school fantasy novel together. The two tones just don't mesh. If Reilly were going to take inspiration for dragons, he should have used something more sophisticated than Eragon.

*Re-reading last paragraph.* Wow, that was really mean. I never thought I'd compare anything to Eragon.

Okay, I take it back. He should have used something other than Dragonriders of Pern. Maybe The Hobbit or Liveship Traders. Both use intelligent dragons that are indifferent or opposed to humankind and have tones that would fit better into the creature-feature that Great Zoo of China desperately wants to be. In the words of Matthew Reilly himself:-

       "A monster movie is only as good as the monster in it."

Update on Jupiter: Illusions of Faith

I've just realised (nearly three weeks later - my bad!) that I never mentioned what came of my review on Jupiter:Illusions of Faith by Kynan Waterford. Hold onto your seat, because it's totally exciting.

Everyone holding on? Brace yourselves...

Kynan Waterford contacted me!

(crickets chirping)

Shut up, it's totally exciting. He explained one of the aspects of the novel that bugged me. If you've read the review, you'll know that I had a teeny-tiny baby bitchfest about Garen and Leisa's relationship. Mostly about how the love-at-first-sight thing was not an adequate explanation for Garen's sudden outburst of human emotion, etc, etc. (Yes, I have a thing against romance; you know this about me already) Kynan explained the sudden change in Garen.

If you haven't read the novel, please note there are *SPOILERS* below. Read ahead at your peril.  

Apparently the reason for Garen's sudden attraction to Leisa was less about her and more about the fact he was no longer accompanied by his heavangel Kari, who was the one responsible for blocking his emotions all this time. No Kari = Garen acting like an actual person. Seeing as Garen had been whining about Kari's absence during the entire novel, and Kari had a good old-fashioned 'I have you now my pretty' speech at the end, I was somewhat mortified to have this pointed out to me. Usually I'm the person who sees things coming three plot points away!

Here is the passage from what Kynan told me:

"Until he is captured, Garen is almost always in the presence of his heavangel mentor, Kari, who has been 'saving' Garen from his emotions (or stealing them, depending on your viewpoint). This allows him to do the nasty things he does and keeps him from being distracted from his mission. However, when he inserts Kari into the Golgotha's communication network (before he is captured), he is separated from his heavangel mentor for the first time in a long time. This means Kari is not around to prevent Garen from feeling emotion, and hence, why an otherwise fairly tame encounter with Leisa, someone he becomes interested in, has such a profound effect on him."

So there it is. Definitive proof that even someone as awesome as me can get things wrong. It's hard to believe, I know, but there it is.

(And many thanks to my lovely housemate Ian who was nice enough to proof-read this post for me and caught several embarrassing spelling mistakes.)

Jupiter: Illusions of Faith by Kynan Waterford

First off, let me say this off my chest: Supanova is awesome.

I went last weekend not really expecting it to be very good (the last few years were pretty dull) and ended up doing half my Christmas shopping and picking up a tonne of indie books from local authors. I don't know whether my tastes have changed or there was a different crew this time, but this year Supanova got fun again.

Therefore it looks like I'm going to be reviewing a bunch of indie books over the next few weeks. I'll get started right now with Jupiter:Illusions of Faith by Kynan Waterford.

This is the first book of the System series, which apparently will have nine books, each one based around a different planet in our solar system. Each book will work as a stand-alone, so you won't need to read the whole series to understand what's going on.

On Jupiter, energy is harvested using a process that is claimed to be deadly to the world's native inhabitants. The problem is that no one can agree if the inhabitants are real or a hallucination. The main character, Garen, has dedicated his life to the fervent belief that they are real. During an escape from custody, a fleeting encounter with a third-class woman Leisa will change both their lives - and his mission - forever.

This is hard-core science fiction, which I don't usually get into, but I actually quite enjoyed this book. It was fast-paced, the tech talk was just enough to get across the information I needed without bogging down the text, and the characters faced genuinely difficult decisions and conflicts. One of the big questions posed is whether Garen is a freedom-fighter or a terrorist. You could argue both ways, and the answer for me probably lies somewhere in the middle. It makes him a compelling character to read because you're never quite sure about him.

Leisa, the other main point-of-view character, holds up her end of the narration extremely well. I think I connected better with her because she wasn't obsessed with the cause like Garen. She was just an ordinary person trying to survive the crap getting thrown her way. Her storyline also centered around all these ideas of agency and identity, which came with a good strong dose of body horror. Be warned; this book borders on gruesome at times, and other times waltzes across said border into outright nightmare fuel. (That's not a criticism, btw).

I did have an issue with Garen and Leisa's relationship, which was a shame because the plot hinges on it. The way I understood it, Garen's difficulty connecting with people is a physical problem due to... spoilery stuff. It's not that he won't, or isn't used to it, or is suppressing something; he physically cannot make that chemical leap in his neurons that makes love happen. And yet half an hour with Leisa is enough to overcome it. Don't get me wrong, I liked both characters. They were smart and decisive, and did what they had to in order to survive. I just needed a bit more explanation as to why she could have this effect on him and no one else.

Other than that, this was a good read; an exciting action-adventure story with romance, imaginative futuristic technology and some challenging questions at the core. Definitely a good choice for the first indie book from the pile on my floor.

It can be found at Amazon.com in electronic form, or hard copies ordered from the author's website.

Self-published Australian fiction you should be reading

With the past decade and advent of Amazon, self-published books have become more widely available. There is some stigma attached to them, and not without reason. Self-published books don't have the same checks as those that go through publishing firms, and so tend to have more mistakes and problems.

However there are some pretty decent ones out there, available for fairly reasonable prices. Here are the some of those I've found deep-diving through the depths of Amazon and Booktopia: 

1. The Silence of Medair (High Fantasy)

This is a goodie. The titular character was sent to retrieve an artifact that could save her kingdom from invaders. However, in retrieving the artifact, she goes to sleep and awakens hundreds of years later to find the invaders succeeded and her world irretrievably altered. It's an interesting premise and unfolds in a way that offers no easy answers. Be warned though; it ends on something of a cliff-hanger and has a sequel. 

For a story on why the author chose to self-publish, see here; it's pretty daunting for anyone looking to break into the industry. 

2. Contest (Science Fiction)

This book is proof that self-publishers can break into the market; it's actually how Matthew Reilly was discovered. It's more science-fiction-y than what I usually recommend, but makes for a great action-adventure thriller. 

The premise is that the main character has been chosen to represent Earth in a fight to the death competition against representatives from seven other worlds. It's a little rough in place, but still an exciting, fast-paced read. 

3. Through the Whirlpool  (High Fantasy)

This one is a cross-dimensional adventure with two characters from very different worlds. It's a relatively recent arrival in self-publishing that needs some more love. It's up on Amazon.com and I can't seem to find it anywhere else. 

Be warned that the sequel is a lot more expensive than the first book, so be wary of starting this one unless you don't mind paying more to see how it ends. 

4. Wisdom Beyond Her Years (Science Fiction, Romance)

This one isn't high literature (not that any on this list are!) but is a very fun lesbian love story set 200 years in the future in a world of efficiency and rigid class structure. Has lots of action and is a little bit kinky, so probably avoid if bondage isn't your thing. 

The setting is futuristic Sydney and has fascinating world-building. 

Out of interest the author has a Youtube tutorial on self-publishing. 

5. Dark Shadows (Paranormal Romance)

This is a vampire paranormal romance, so if you're into that sort of genre this is definitely your book. Not for children, and has been compared favorably to Twilight (as I hated Twilight myself, this doesn't say much). 

Personally I prefer urban fantasy to paranormal romance (the difference being that the romance is a sideline rather than the focus) but people that do like it have loved this book. 

As with any book, it all depends on what you're into. 

So there you have it. Five self-published books by Australian authors that are worth reading. But don't take my word for it, go investigate companies like Vivid and Indimosh. There's plenty of talent out there; it's just a question of finding it.