When I picture a half-vampire/half-human vampire hunter, I envision a brooding, sexually-irresistible Adonis with superhuman speed and strength. Kikuchi tries to do this with his protagonist, D, but massively underpowers him. I mean, the dude can only draw his sword in 1/6 of a second? Pssh. I could probably do that! And every man and woman swoons when he walks in the room; c’mon, they should literally be throwing themselves at him! Sorry, Kikuchi, but your style’s just a little understated for my tastes. I’d blame the translator.
Archive for the ‘Chris Hates Books’ Category
When I hear the word “prequel”, I think comfort. Give me more of the same stuff that I loved in the original series, just set a little earlier. We mostly know how it goes anyway, all you have to do is just flesh out the particulars. When Steven Erikson hears the word “prequel”, he must think, “Ha-ha, screw you guys!” because this is the kind of crap he pulls: Sworn enemies are now BFFs. Total jerks are now namby-pamby goody-goodies. Titles and relationships, even the geography turn out to be different than we thought! So it’s set a half a million years before the main series; who cares? There’s a reason dudes say things like, “I’ll never betray you in a million years!” Erikson, you’re doing it all wrong.
What a bunch of garbage. This is AMERICA, we don’t even have princes here! Geez lou-eez, get with the times, Nick.
So I’m clipping through this enjoyable, if mysterious, military fantasy, when suddenly, out of nowhere: BLAM-O! right in the feelings! This is a macho manly-man’s book, and there’s nothing macho nor manly about the tears that are most definitely not welling up even now, no sir, no way. Oh, God, someone hold me.
The concluding volume of Patrick Lee’s “Travis Chase” sci-fi thriller trilogy literally made my brain explode. Yes, I said literally. Now I’m dead, and can only blog from beyond the grave. And you know what’s hard? Typing out these posts with ghost fingers, that’s what’s hard. Thanks for nothing, Patrick Lee.
So I’m starting in on this one, and it seems very much like your standard sword-and-sorcery fantasy. And then weird stuff starts bleeding in… Is—is that a raygun? Are those…aliens? Waitaminute, is the Matachin Tower actually a grounded rocketship? No no no no, science fiction and fantasy are two distinct genres for a reason! Gene Wolfe, you got chocolate in my peanut butter! You got peanut butter in my chocolate!
Matthew Stover is a f***ing fantastic writer, and his Acts of Caine are awesomely, brutally violent. But Mr. Stover has a fatal f***ing flaw, and it is this: he doesn’t use the word “f***” f***ing often enough. Is it too f***ing much to ask that every f***ing paragraph be seasoned with no fewer than 10 “f***“s? F*** no, it isn’t! Stover tries his best, but f*** if I still can’t help but hold this f***ing failure against him.
So this book is basically a rip-off every sci-fi action flick you can think of. It might as well be called “Star Wars on Mars Starring Superman.” Perhaps the most ridiculous part is the weapons the characters use to fight: swords. And not even lightsabers or laser swords or anything cool, just plain old metal blades. No rayguns or anything! This is supposed to be “classic” science fiction? Please.