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.

Who is Tripitaka?

I swear I was joking about a second post on The New Legends of Monkey.

I already did a long (long, long) review of this new version of the Chinese legend. (To cut it short, it was nothing like the 1978 series, but if you were a fan of Xena: Warrior Princess or Hercules: The Legendary Journeys, you'll like it). I thought I was finished. I thought I was done.

But there's a question in my head that just won't die. Despite the ten episodes dedicated to answering this very question, I am still not convinced that we really know who Tripitaka is. Or rather, we're not told the whole story.

As always, consider this a general *SPOILER WARNING*. I am going into major detail on various plot points, so if you'd rather remain unspoiled, bail out now.

Theory 1: She's No One

This is what the show gives us, and so far nothing disproves it. Tripitaka is introduced as an orphan left on the Scholar's doorstep and raised by him. It's a big plot point that she never knew her parents and we never even learn her name prior to assuming the identity of Tripitaka. The idea being, of course, is that who she was before is irrelevant. It's who she chooses to become that matters.

Honestly, I'd be fine with this. It fits in with the show's modern sense of values, where all-powerful kings are a concept of ages past and gods can be born into the humblest of places. (Note to self; do another post about the difference between the gods of Hercules and the gods of Monkey...damn it, I'm going to be here all night.) So I'm entirely okay with the chosen one being an ordinary girl who stepped up because the job needed doing and she was available.  

However, there's one niggling little oddity that doesn't quite add up about Tripitaka.

She knows the language of the gods.

This is explicitly supposed to be known only to gods. It's entire reason that Davari was keeping them alive; so that they could translate the sacred scrolls for him. So it's very unusual (possibly forbidden) that Tripitaka was taught it by the Scholar, another character whose origins are shrouded in mystery.

Even if we assume the Scholar himself was a god (not implausible), that still begs the question why he would teach that language to an ordinary human girl who randomly got left on his doorstep. Or, if we assume he learned it from a god, you'd also assume they'd make him double pinky-swear not to pass the knowledge onto anyone who wasn't a god.

Which leads into my next theory...

Theory 2: She's a God

We already know from Sandy's backstory that gods are not lineage-based like Greek gods.  They can be born to ordinary people and don't automatically understand their own nature. If Tripitaka is a very young god who doesn't know what she is, it would explain why a Resistance leader raised her and gave her that specific education.

Of course, Tripitaka hasn't demonstrated any special abilities on the quest; nothing like Sandy's control over water or Monkey's cloud or Pigsy's trident-thing.

Or has she?

I already covered in my review her truly astounding ability to think on her feet and pull a victory out of her ass. Father-figure murdered and home destroyed? No sweat, she has the Monkey-King free within a week. Captured by demons? All good, she's got the captain of the guard helping her. Friends kidnapped by a powerful sorcerer? Better hope that secret lair is insured.

What if her power is a much more subtle than her friends'? Something so subtle and powerful you might not notice until you looked at the bigger picture and realised how many times those one in a million odds fell in their favour.

What if Tripitaka has the power of hope.

Sure it sounds about as lame as heart, but to quote the third-best Star Wars movie of all time, "Rebellions are built on hope." And that word comes up a lot in relation to Tripitaka. Gwen warns her that the name Tripitaka is a beacon of hope for gods. The Scholar tells her that she only needs to live, that (and I quote) "hope must never die". Cynical characters like Monica and Pigsy seem to assume a fresh optimism after being in her vicinity and Resistance-allied Sandy seems half in love with her already (speaking of, if the thing with Monkey falls through I am all for a Sandy/Tripitaka ship).

Of course, this is kicked apart by Episode Five, due to the simple fact that she's not affected by the god-paralysing mist that traps Monkey, Sandy and Pigsy. So unless gods have a dormant or adolescent stage where they're more or less human, we can probably safely assume that Tripitaka is not a god.

At least not yet. Seeing as how much this show shares with Hercules: The Legendary Journey, and how many people got to become gods on that show (and in the original Chinese folklore) chances are good she'll get there eventually on her own.

Unless...

Theory 3: She's a Demon

Now this might be me going wild with too much Easter chocolate and sprouting my own Epileptic Tree, but the more I think about it, the more interesting it is.

We don't have much information on demons, other than the implication that they're always chaotic evil. It's suggested one can be born a demon the same way one can be born a god (Sandy's father certainly thought so), and it's not always possible to identify them on sight. Even Monkey, who had "done this a million times" mistook Sandy for a demon and Davari for a human. Technically, we have no proof that Tripitaka isn't a demon acting under the belief that she is human.

It would explain why her mother abandoned her; perhaps she had reason to suspect her child was demonic. And the Scholar was exactly the kind of maverick to attempt raising a "good" demon using all the same educational tools one would with a god. I mean this is the guy who planned to bring back the god painted as a monster by history; even if he was reasonably confident that history was wrong, he had no way of being certain it wouldn't make things ten times worse. He certainly wasn't shy about taking risks.

The biggest argument against all of this, of course, is that Tripitaka is about as demonic as a fuzzy duckling snuggling with a Labrador puppy. But again, what do we know about demons apart from their long-standing feud with the gods? Most of what we learn about them is what the gods tell us, and even before the war, the gods were content to murder demons on sight.

Based on what we've witnessed, not all demons are uniformly evil. Locke seems to have genuine feelings for Pigsy, Davari is desperate to live, and the Shaman... okay, the Shaman is a bad example. My point is, they're capable of a broad range of emotional reactions. Even the Font Demon, an otherwise inhuman monolith, takes human form so he could have a quiet meal at the tavern. And he doesn't even need to eat! For all we know, a demon raised in the right conditions would exhibit entirely human behaviour.

If I'm right, it would put Team!Monkey through a very interesting wringer. You'd have Tripitaka going through a second, much more horrific crisis while Monkey and Sandy (the two people most devoted to her) would be struggling between their hatred for demons and their love for her. At the very least it would take "It's okay if it's you!" to a ridiculous new level. About the only person I can see taking it in their stride is Pigsy, since he's already been in one intense long-term relationship with a scary demon lady, so would be a bit more blasé about the whole thing.

And call me crazy, but it would be a great inversion of the source material, where the purest and most innocent character is now a demon ignorant of her own nature.

The New Legends of Monkey - Review

If you were an Australian kid in the nineties, chances are you'll know exactly what I mean by Monkey Magic.

The cast of the fondly remembered

1978 original. 

It meant running home from school and parking i
n front of the TV to tune into a weird and wonderful show of magical clouds, women playing men, and lines that never quite synced with the actors' lips. Granted some of the translation decisions were questionable and most of the philosophical concepts went over our heads, but this campy Chinese production remains a warmly nostalgic memory among a certain age group in Australia and New Zealand.

So it was with great trepidation that I tuned into the 2018 Netflix-produced remake The New Legends of Monkey.

It already had a lot to live up to and the accusations of white-washing didn't fill me with confidence. I braced myself for disaster, crushed my expectations and kept one hand on the remote ready to abort.

Luciane Buchanan as Tripitaka.

Episode One was...fine. The CGI was rough in places, but it did a solid job of setting up Tripitaka (Luciane Buchanan) as our point-of-view character. It tipped a nod to the original series' gender-bender casting by telling the story of a young girl posing as a monk. One could even consider it a clever microcosm of the conundrum the modern show faces; having to step in and take the place of a more worthy predecessor (if so, they probably should have skipped that rather crushing "you're no one", but I digress).

Tripitaka is never more lovable than she is in this first episode. While later instalments often force her into the role of joyless moral heart, I adore the clever, resourceful young woman we're initially introduced to. As an orphan alone in the world she's frequently forced into demeaning roles, whether it's being treated as a servant in her own home or forced to work as a browbeaten waitress. Yet she survives where greater heroes fall. She thwarts the demons using guile, quick-thinking and whatever tools happen to fall into her grasp. And no, she's not above deceipt, theft or identity fraud.

Unfortunately, after this episode we meet the rest of the gang, and pretty much everything that's interesting about Tripitaka gets jettisoned in favor of "too good for this sinful Earth".

Chai Hansen as Monkey.

Still, what the writers take away with one hand, they give back with the other, because Episode Two is where we get to know Monkey and Sandy.

Monkey (Chai Hansen) is delightful; a young arrogant goofball of a god who doesn't know half as much as he thinks he does and is none-too-happy at the idea of taking orders from a "little boy monk". Much like the 1978 version, his main flaw is his ego. Yet this version has a vulnerability that the original didn't; less eternal jokester and more playful youth that never had to grow up. Between the self-centered boasting and instant-karma pratfalls, there are fleeting glimpses of a hurt, angry boy unable to understand what went wrong. It's a subtle difference that lends a more sympathetic context to the circumstances of his imprisonment.

Emilie Cocquerel as Sandy.

Sandy (Emilie Cocquerel) also manages to be much more likable this time round, being an entertainingly batty god rather than a former cannibal. And a woman, which could have gone badly if they'd turned her into a manic pixy dream girl (an outdated sexist trope we're all a little tired of), but fortunately they manage to sidestep it with a combination of good writing, acting and direction. If anything, her erratic mannerisms come off as unsettling and a troubling sign of the tragic backstory we'll learn more of down the road.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. I should note that Episode Three was when I realised my hand had moved away from the remote control and I was really getting into the show. My worst fears were proving unfounded. The white-washing I'd dreaded wasn't there (or at least wasn't as bad as I'd been told), the show being set in a world with a richly varied population. Nor was there that sense of confusion that dragged down remakes like Being Human (USA) or Bionic Woman (2007). This was a show that knew exactly what it wanted to be and what to take from the source material to pay homage without being enslaved to it.

Josh Thompson as Pigsy.

Case in point; Pigsy. In the original show, he was a greedy lustful character who saw the error of his ways and joined Monkey on his holy quest. They got a lot of comedy mileage out of his creep-tastic pursuit of women, which was apparently funny back in the seventies. The new show focuses on the same idea of earthly pleasure, only rather having Pigsy (Josh Thompson) chasing after random hapless women, they explore it through his relationship with the powerful Princess Locke. In exchange for him working as her enforcer, she protected him from demons and kept him in a luxurious lifestyle. It's the same idea of personal temptation, except the desire it's coded in is for self-preservation and the simple pleasures to make such a bleak existence bearable. And it's effective. I'm not ashamed to say that Pigsy was far and away my favorite of the new cast. This is a softer, more nuanced version of the character; a closet romantic that hides his marsh-mellow heart beneath a sarcastic, much-needed voice of reason.

My only disappointment was that the show didn't delve deeper with the contrast between him and Sandy. Both of them are gods that suffered under the reign of demons, who made different decisions in order to survive. While Pigsy chose to collaborate, working with the regime in order to avoid the fate of his brethren, Sandy hid herself away and is implied to have gone a little bit (okay a lot) insane in her isolation. That could have made for some very interesting tension, so hopefully that's something they're saving for next season.

(*sigh*) I guess it's time to address my main gripe with the series. Episode Four. I'm going into detail so consider this a general spoiler warning for the next few paragraphs. If you want to avoid spoilers, you can skip down to my thoughts on Episode Five, which start beneath the picture of Milo Cawthorne. (Just as a sidenote: this show is like Power Rangers bingo! I've spotted two already and if I find three, I feel like I should get a prize or something).

Ready? Here we go. *SPOILERS AHEAD*

So just like in the original, Monkey isn't on this quest entirely of his own free will. He's bound to Tripitaka by a magical crown that she can use to cause him pain. Episode Four reminds us of this power imbalance early on with a truly unsettling scene where she uses it during a disagreement over how to fight the demons. Hansen's performance is painfully convincing, displaying various shades of shock, humiliation and betrayal, while Buchanan salvages her character from complete disaster with a subtle flash of horrified remorse.

Admittedly, Tripitaka has used the crown once before, but you could argue that time was a last-ditch, panicked effort to save someone's life. Here, she doesn't have that excuse and it throws an ugly light on their relationship. Can they truly friends if one is holding a whip over the other? How much agency does Monkey truly have? Even if she chooses not to use it, that implied threat is always going to be hovering over his head every time he makes a decision that might contradict hers.

The episode takes these interesting questions and... ignores them completely, buries the issue and coughs up some conclusion about it all being okay because Tripitaka is "pure of heart".

I... I really don't know where to start with that.

At least the actress is of Tongan descent so we avoid the racially charged imagery of a white person benevolently enslaving a man of colour for his own good. Instead we have the uncomfortable sight of one hero inflicting pain on another. Baby steps, right?

I think what we have here is an example of remake missfire. The writers have re-used concepts from the source material, but failed to consider the context. See, this worked in the original because Monkey unambiguously earned his imprisonment. Here, it fails because it's hinted right from the beginning that Monkey wasn't entirely at fault for what he was imprisoned for. There's conflicting versions of what happened and even Tripitaka herself seems undecided on what she believes.

Monkey's way of saying thank you.

Even worse, the show spent a lot of effort setting up the friendship between the two. Practically their first interaction was Monkey laying an exuberant kiss on Tripitaka while she stared in starry-eyed wonder at the culmination of her hopes and dreams. We were encouraged to care about this friendship, so it's distressing beyond words to see one of them hurt the other this way. And even more disgusting to see the show bend over backwards to portray Monkey as in the wrong.

The sad part is it would only take a few minor tweaks to turn this problem into an springboard for character development. For example, Tripitaka is already pretty remorseful at her actions, so don't try to validate her. Let the episode end on an ambiguous note, leaving an open question mark about her ability to live up to the wise monk she replaced. Which would add further dramatic tension down the track and add more personal pressure on her to step up.

The bright light in an otherwise uncomfortable episode:
Milo Cawthorne as Affe. 

But alas. Because the writers went with the easy, feel-good ending, we end up with a deeply uncomfortable aesop that not even the comic genius of Milo Cawthorne can cover up. Fortunately, this episode can be easily skipped, as it's relatively self-contained and contributes very little to the overall storyline.

*END SPOILERS*

Phew! Glad I got that out of my system.

Anyway, If I was having doubts (my hand certainly started to creep back toward that remote control) the show made it up to me in Episode Five, where events takes a deliciously dark turn and we learn where the special effects budget from Episode One went. We meet some fantastic villains, including the menacing Shaman (Daniel Watterson) who has his own plans for our heroes. Some might prefer the idiosyncratic Big Bad revealed toward the end of the season, but for me the stand-out villain was the Shaman who managed to be absurdly charismatic and make my skin want to crawl away and hide in a corner. Add the return of Rachel House and macabre hints about what happened to the other gods, and you've got the best episode of the series.

Daniel Watterson as the Shaman.

This all leads directly into Episode Six, where the hints of Monkey's backstory are expanded on and we learn the events that led to his imprisonment. It's a sordid tale of pride before a fall and personal betrayal, and in any other series would present a chance for personal contemplation and growth.

This is Monkey however, and he's not about to learn a lesson lying down. Which is why we love him. Never change, Monkey!

Sadly, just as Monkey reaffirms his purpose, in Episode Seven Tripitaka starts to seriously doubt her place on the quest. I can't blame her either. Lets face it, if you're being chased through a terrifying forest by faceless monsters, you'd start wondering where you went wrong too.

The real question of the series:

who is Tripitaka?

In all seriousness though, it's cleverly done. Until this point, the audience has known who Tripitaka is. We've gone on this journey with her, we've caught the sly winks at the fourth wall, we've been in on the joke. But here, we start to catch on that we may have been hoodwinked too, that there might be more to her than a wholesome bit of cross-dressing. And so we share her awakening curiosity about her past, and start wondering the same question that haunts her. Who is Tripitaka? I have a few ideas, but I'll save that for another post. (Because apparently I have so much to talk about, I need another post.)

Episode Eight starts with the team breaking up, Tripitaka following her past and Sandy following her, while Monkey and Pigsy continue (rather ineptly) on their quest. It's a nice way to build the connections between team-members other than Tripitaka and Monkey, and gives the slightly neglected Sandy the chance to shine. While Monkey and Pigsy's efforts are comedy gold, they're contrasted and complemented by the gentle melancholy of Tripitaka and Sandy's tentative confidences. Sandy quietly telling the tale of how she came to be alone is the most powerful performance of the series and I'd have thrown the remote away if I hadn't already done it two episodes ago. (What are you looking at? I'm not crying; you're crying.)

"No, no, no. You were a boy monk!"

It all kicks into high gear in Episode Nine, where Tripitaka desperately tries to keep knowledge out of the hands of demons while Monkey and Pigsy plan a rescue. Of course, because this is Monkey and Pigsy, someone else comes up with the plan and they try (mostly) not to screw it up. On the bright side, Monkey finally gets a clue that the monk he's been cozying up to is a girl and breaks his brain trying to figure out how that works.

...Aaand right about here is where I threw in the towel and said "Fine, you win. I ship it. They're adorable and I ship it so hard."

Episode Ten is the finale. I liked that Tripitaka doesn't magically overnight become a fighter, still using her wits and guile to defeat the villain. Monkey contributed less than I expected from the guy whose name is in the title, though it does make a sort of sense, as the most important lesson he's had to learn is that it's not all about him. The only let-down was that Pigsy and Sandy didn't get much to do. Yes, Pigsy got to defeat his ex, but she was never that intimidating a villain to begin with, and Sandy barely got to do anything except sneak around trying to figure out what the others were up to.

However, overall I was satisfied with the conclusion I got. I certainly went back and re-watched it more times than I needed to, and not just to get the screen-captures for this article.

Does it live up to the old series?

No. Absolutely not. The old series had a unique (forgive me I cannot resist the pun) magic. There can never be anything like it again.

But judged on its own merits, this is a pretty good show for adults and a fantastic show for kids. Stylistically and conceptually it has the most in common with the anachronistic ham-and-cheese of Hercules: The Legendary Journeys (1995) and Xena: Warrior Princess (1995). The characters are a delight, bringing their own elements of tragedy and comedy to the table. Even Tripitaka, who the writers forced to suffer as the straight man to the others' antics, proved a resourceful and endearing hero when she was alone. The voice-over could be annoying, but unlike Star Trek Discovery (2017) they had the sense to use it sparingly. And even the less than stellar episodes had something to recommend them. For example, as hard as I bitched about Episode Four, it offered some great slapstick comedy and a cartoonishly entertaining villain.

I would definitely watch a second season and hopefully Netlix supplies us with one soon. The first season is available in Australia for free on ABC iview until the 29th of March 2018, after which I assume it will start running on Netflix.

Final Verdict:  Awesome, with only one serious instance of remake misfire. Kids will adore it, adults will enjoy it. My only regret is that I can't time-travel and make my kid-self watch it.

Quote:

"I'll do as I please, not what others tell me to do.
I only take orders from gods and even then, only if I think it's a good idea."

The Dark Griffin by KJ Taylor

The theme of racism has been around a long time in fantasy. It was there when Lord of the Rings set the stage for the genre and has been explored again and again by its successors in various guises.

Few, however, tackle it with such depressing accuracy as KJ Taylor's The Dark Griffin.

The main character Arren is what's called a blackrobe; a derogatory term for a race of enslaved humans. He's unusually lucky because he's also the chosen companion of a Griffin, which makes him aristocracy despite his origins. For someone like him, he's at the best place he could possibly be. So naturally, after a terrible accident, there is nowhere to go but down.

I'll be honest - this was a tough read for me. It holds no punches, exploring  how poisonous internalized racism is and how bigotry becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. Several times I had to put the book down and go look at a sunset or watch cat videos.

I think what made it worse is that there's no traditional villain. Everyone is simply doing what they believe is best. It's like a Greek tragedy, except that the fatal flaw doesn't lie within the protagonists but the culture around them. Nor are these problems treated as a purely human failing, which would have been an easy out for the author to take. The Griffins are entirely complicit in this system.

It's a different twist on Mercedes Lackey's Valdemar series, where rulership is restricted to partnerships with mystical bond animals. But unlike the Heralds' Companions, the Griffins do not come with an omniscient morality licence and choose their partners for reasons just as noble or petty or biased as any human. Which works out exactly as well as you'd expect in the long run.

If you don't mind bleak tragedy, The Dark Griffin makes for a pretty interesting read. Taylor dives head-first into a heavy topic and for the most part she handles it well. Her Achilles heel is characterization, particularly in regards to Arren who remains something of a cipher despite him being the main protagonist. We never get much of a sense of his personality or disposition, outside his desperation to reclaim his old status.

Of course, as the first book in a trilogy, there's still plenty of room for growth.

Final Verdict: Good. With a better developed protagonist I'd have said Awesome.

"And places like this are shrinking. Humans always want more land. Soon there will be nowhere left for you or your kind."