March 21

What I’m Reading: May Dawson’s Dragon Royals series

I’m struggling in my haul through Anne Rice’s The Witching Hour, so I decided to go for something different. I’m a sucker for reverse harems these days, Romance in general, but even tropes, as long as they are done well, are prefect for the kind of escapist reading I’m looking for these days.

I downloaded a sample of May Dawson’s Dragon Royals series from a Facebook Ad (I download a lot of samples that way, though more often than not I’m disappointed.) Before I got a few pages in I knew I was going to keep reading.

The series is part Chosen One, part Cinderella, and part political intrigue. Honor is the rebellious step child of a once great Lord who weathered scandal by taking her in. Believed to be the child of his mistress, she feels guilt for destroying his world before he he passed. She’s trying to support her half sister from the abuse of their evil stepmother (who totally killed their father) by working as a maid at The Academy, where the predator shapeshifters train to defend the kingdom from the threat of the zombie Scourge.

Then she falls in love with the Dragon Royals, a group of six men, born by magic, to be the next rulers of the island.

This series is delightfully complex, though a bit convoluted by the end. The young adult dragon royals are involved in their own conspiracy against their fathers, who have gone to extreme and abusive lengths to maintain their power. The presence of a female dragon, Honor, exposes not just the worst sides of their fathers, but the truth of their pasts, from overthrowing the last true king, to their roles in the curse affecting the entire land that also created the Scourge.

I enjoyed the piece by piece reveal of an entire history and culture of the island before the story starts. I enjoyed that none of the male leads were really buying into the culture of oppression built by their fathers even before the books begin. They had their own goals and their own plots going on and becoming entangled with Honor only complicated things. I might be sadistic, as well, but I enjoyed that the men, though entitled and powerful, still paid a price to follow their hearts, both in their relationships with honor and in who they want to be and how they want to rule.

There are obvious tropes present. Honor is a Cinderella, she’d bad at her job but still keeps it. She’s bullied and endangered. But it doesn’t feel flat or cliche. Even her abusers come off as real people with real motivations of their own in the context of the world setting.

Somehow, Dawson also manages to add a power creep that doesn’t exactly make things easier on the characters, or make them magically more powerful than their foes.

As for the romance and sex, the sex scenes are blisteringly fun (OMG, the scene where they are under the influence of the sirens will remain one of my favorites), and manage to include multiple men in ways without only exploring multiple orifices’. The men are unique, and they all are allowed unique relationships with Honor. By the end, when there are eight of them and the plot is on an intense civil and international war, their characters get a little thin, but I have mixed feelings because that area of the books also allows to the heroine to maintain a huge amount of personality and agency of her own. She refuses to be tucked away by her men, and in fact, has to run away from them to stay true to who she needs to be as a person. I like the idea that they all get to be people first and relationships second.

The Cons are: Each book ends on a cliffhanger. I didn’t mind as much because none of them felt drawn out for space. Each had a satisfying level of complex plot and relationship plot. But a lot of readers are against this. Heck, I’m usually against this, but again, there are a lot of tropes or things like that that I found forgivable in the context of the good, engaging writing.

I think the author herself sort of lost track of how the world was developing because certain things from the beginning were just dropped with no resolution. (Was Alis really Honor’s parents’ surrogate??) And, as a reader of many genres, the civil/national warring in the last two books racked up a body count that felt rather…minimized. But then it’s almost like the author had to realign her own genre mixing style to stick to the romance angle rather than exploring fantasy with a romance storyline. But the plot never felt too thin or idealistic.

I do recommend this series, for erotic readers and fantasy romance readers as well. It’s fun, made me laugh out loud a lot, and is sexy as hell without being contrived or boring.  I sped through it in about a week–despite each book being 300-400pages– and at $2.99 a book (or on Kindle Unlimited) it’s not a huge hit to the bank account either.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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October 3

Supernatural Veterinary Science: Good God, don’t do that!

My dayjob and writing life will collide this weekend at Imaginarium in Louisville, KY. I’ll be teaching a writing class on applying biology (vet medicine/animal behavior science/epidemiology). Coincidentally, I’ve also been reading Hounded by Kevin Hearne. I was recommended to me by a number of people who probably thought I’d like it because the main character Atticus has a side kick–namely an Irish Wolfhound he can communicate with telepathically.

But I’m not enjoying it. Kind of not at all. First, I’m not huge into Irish mythos. But that’s not hard to overcome. Second, Atticus is a smug, cocky, child-man. Third the story the author tells is sexist (every woman either sleeps with the hero, for no reason, or if they won’t they’re probably unattractive, or an evil shrew) and the writing doesn’t show Atticus as a clever man worthy of the gift of immortality or attention from the gods. Instead it cuts all the “foe” characters down into even stupider, flatter beings to keep the hero from ever being in real danger. (I mean, when facing down with a legendary, goddess-favored warrior, Atticus literally pushes him over the invisible dog behind him so that he trips and falls and Atticus can behead him.)

Then, we have the dog. Oberon is a great name. And it’s the greatest part of him. While Atticus has gifted Oberon with some intelligence and telepathic communication through his friendship it’s just that Oberon isn’t a dog. The character is a dumb human, to put it in D&D terms a troll or kobold, in dog form.

The. Dog. Makes. Pop. Culture. References. The dog uses very human slang. Sarcasm. The dog talks about watching The Wizard of Oz.

This is my suspension of disbelief; broken.

While there are some studies that show that dogs will watch TV we know that they don’t see the color range that we do, they perceive “moving pictures” differently (they are faster than us, so what is moving TV to us is jerky animated pictures to them), and they just don’t stay interested long enough. Their attention span is way more active. While they might be drawn to a noise or sudden movement the lack of other sensory excitement (smell, taste, etc) causes them to lose interest fast. Dogs will cuddle on the couch with you. They will follow your gaze instinctively (like other humans do), but once that “alert” period is not further engaged they stop really paying attention.

And even if a dog actually physically watched the television for a whole movie, they don’t think in “plot” terms like we do. They can learn action and reaction (thus learning commands and the whole “looking guilty” thing), but they wouldn’t have much of a understand of the concept of stories, or stories following the same plot. Much less enough to make accurate comparisons of immediate activity to it.

This seems like a small thing to harp on, but this is really just an example of an ongoing problem. The dog also uses language like a human would. Sentence structure, even paragraph structure. And correct grammar, like verb tenses. Dogs are as mentally developed as two year olds, which is impressive! But Oberon does NOT talk like a 2 year old.

Early in the book the goddess of the hunt drives Oberon to kill a man. This is supposed to drive some of the story, but it does in all the wrong ways for me. Atticus slaps an invisibility spell on Oberon and consults with a lawyer on…how to help his dog avoid the lawful consequences of his actions.

I understand wanting to protect your dog against being put down. (I really, really, really understand that.) But the way it is written 1) Atticus completely avoids questioning whether he or other people are safe around his dog 2) avoids a metric ton of the actual emotional impact of the issue by dismissing the target as “a set up bad guy” and the reasoning as “magic powers took the dog over”.  I immediately wondered who does the awesomely clever Druid who has charms for everything, somehow NOT have a charm to protect his beloved dog from being influenced by the fae/gods who he knows are trying to kill him??

Of course, there are a number of in the open slaughtering where people who have no clue blatantly cover for Atticus as well, to the point of being completely okay with murder and cover up. (I mean his neighbor gets lemonade for him while he goes to bury a body in her back yard.)

I put the book down for almost a month. I picked it up again, hoping it was just a mood, but no, I’m struggling. What I commonly do at this point is read reviews to see if these issues resolve themselves. If there is a chance, I’ll keep reading. The reviews say there is no chance. (Not until book three. But frankly, I don’t have three books of money and time to wait for things to get good.) In fact, the reviews said some other things which bothered me.

I know that this is a fiction series that isn’t even trying to be realistic. But in the end Atticus “rewards” Oberon for being a good boy by buying him 5 in heat poodles.

So, I’ll cover rape briefly. I do believe dogs can consent. Any breeder can tell you a female dog can make her lack of interest in a male very clear. But INFORMED consent is different. 2 year olds, and dogs, don’t do clear informed consent.

But that’s not my issue (though it was an issue with other readers). My issue is…

This is an Irish Wolfhound.

This is a herd of adorable Irish Wolfhounds.

This is a standard poodle, the largest classification of poodles.

The Iris Wolfhound is the tallest of the breeds. the AKC standard says males should be at least 32 inches at the shoulder and around 120 pounds. The breed standard for poodles says female poodles should weigh 40-50 pounds max. Less than half the size. And In Heat means fertile. Ready to breed. Intent to breed. Atticus gifted his wolfhound with five females ready to breed who in the real world would be less than half his size.

Those breeding would be incredibly dangerous and likely deadly for the females. What ridiculous kind of asshat would think it’s okay to buy a bunch of dogs as a reward for his dog, when that reward would likely very seriously harm or kill them??

I mean, let’s set aside the fact that dogs are more smell and taste-centered than us, and not likely at all to fixate sexually on a certain breed’s appearance.

What kind of “hero” treats human women like trash, goddess like vapid, sexy-child-conquests, and female dogs like sacrifices? Honestly, not one I want to spend a lot of time reading about.

So this is a timely reminder (and example) of what I’m trying to teach other authors about. It’s not that science is so very important in speculative fiction. But it’s pretty clear to me that the careless treatment of animal characters and the lack of attention to decent (or even decently fake) science are not isolated writing issues, but mirror issues with the human characters, setting, and plot. It’s just one more way we, as authors can double check ourselves and build lovely, complex tales for readers.

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August 28

Guest blog: An Interview with Lenore by David Niall Wilson

Today, I have been given a unique opportunity to ask a few questions of one of my own characters. Of course, once they have been written, they are as real to me as the people I meet on the street, probably more real in most cases, because I know them. Of course, since I have written about her only once, I have a lot to learn about Eleanor MaCready – Lenore, to her friends.

DNW: Lenore, you have a powerful and unique talent for portraits, and landscapes. When did you first know you would be an artist?

LENORE: My childhood was spent in a very different place and time from the world you inhabit. When I was young, there were very few acceptable trades for a woman, and as you might guess, traveling artist was not among them. If it had not been for my other gift – or curse – the gift that brought me to the Lake Drummond Hotel, and to the events that you have recorded in your novel, my art would probably have been something I tucked away and kept to myself. No doubt I would have ended up married to a farmer, or a rancher, possibly – if I was lucky – a plantation owner. I am no judge, but I’m told that I was very pretty.

The first time I remember seeing the faces, there were two of them, I was staring at the wall of an old barn. The wood was pine, pitted and cracked, and there were knots ever few feet. In the swirling lines of a knot about eye level, I saw two faces. One was a young man, the other a girl. It wasn’t as if I saw lines that resembled faces, as people often do. These were bright, clear images.

I tried to show my brother, but he looked, shook his head, and walked away. When I tried to tell my mother, he chimed in and told her I had been out in the heat too long and was as crazy as a scared goose.

I found an old scrap of paper, and a bit of charcoal, and I went back to the barn. It took me until dark to finish, but I drew – as well as I could – the two faces on the wood. I worked until something sort of – shifted – and I knew that I had them. The drawing was crude, but the features on both faces were clear.

I was frightened. I knew that all I should see there was wood, and that if I showed the picture to anyone, they would take it from me, tear it, and make fun of me. There should have been boards, and an interesting knothole. I saw them almost as clearly as the faces.

In the last light of that day, I carefully brushed away the faces. As I went, I drew in the wood as it ought to be, recreated the whorls and pits of the old pine. As the last of the girl’s face was replaced by the grain of the wood, there was a sound – a soft pop – and when I glanced up, I saw something – something silver and bright – snap free of the barn’s wall. It was like a thread had broken, and she was free.

I did the same for the boy’s face, and he, too, disappeared, leaving nothing on the wall, or in my drawing, but old stained boards and a knothole that resembled a dog more than any face. What my brother had seen. What everyone else had seen was all that remained.

But the faces. I felt there was more to them – and I’d witnessed them breaking free and floating up, out of sight in the dark evening sky. That was when I first realized that there was something different about me- possibly special – but definitely private. I spent as much time as I could, after that, drawing things. Faces, bowls and pots in the kitchen, fruit from the garden. I drew pictures of my family, and they smiled and shook their heads at me as if I was wasting time – but they kept them, every one.

DNW: Buy the time you met Edgar Allan Poe, you’d been on the road for a while. What was different about the images you found on the edge of The Great Dismal Swamp?

LENORE: There was nothing different. The images – the trapped souls – are always the same. What was different in that place, and that time, was the people. First, there was the girl at the hotel, Anita. She was not the first person I’d met who could see the faces, but she was the first – and only – who was also able to see when the soul was set free, to experience that moment as I do, and share in it with me. That was very special.

Edgar brought it all to another level entirely. When he was there, writing, and I was drawing, we formed a connection. It is hard to explain, but somehow his story became the story of the face I was excising from the branches of an old tree. I was drawn into his vision, along with Anita, and even his bird – Grimm – the crow that traveled with him everywhere he went. It is possible that Grimm was the bond – he is a very old and very powerful bird.

I would not want to spoil the story for your readers, so I will say only that it was in that place – that hotel – that I first experienced the lives of those I’d set free – first felt them as complete beings and knew who, and what I had freed. I have no choice, you see – if I see them, I am compelled to draw them. That is why I sometimes call my gift a curse. Art does not wait for our convenience – not when it’s real. But you know that. You have my voice in your head, and you know I will be calling to you again soon. There is always more to the story.

DNW: Indeed. I thank you for your story, and your time.

LENORE: As you know, at the moment, I have nothing but time.

If you would like to know more about the character Lenore, her meeting with Edgar Allan Poe, and their adventures in The Great Dismal swamp, you will find what you seek in the pages of my novel, Nevermore – a Novel of Love, Loss & Edgar Allan Poe. You can find more about me, and my work, at my website: http://www.davidniallwilson.com

You can connect with me on Twitter at http://www.twitter.com/david_n_wilson

You can find me on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/David.Niall.Wilson

 

Thank you for having me… I hope you’ll all share in Lenore’s story – and Edgar’s.

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May 23

Take 2: What makes you put down a book?

Original post (with lots of great comments, writers read this!) here.

Failing to connect is the biggest thing that get me to put down a book. Now that covers:

-Failing to connect with the MC, or any character (I’m talking to you The Walking Dead tv series.)

-Failing to connect with the story. The Drama is too drama-y, or not tense enough. Just go to the damned store and get the pregnancy test, Anita Blake! Don’t whine and wonder for the whole book. That’s not tension that’s needless stringing out of drama.

And if I’m yelling at your clear lack of science knowledge (The Walking Dead again) or unable to suspend my disbelief (oh look, random zombie book, yet another cop/military man is completely incapable? Because we send a lot of people like that through training and to foreign wars…) that’s a failure to connect.

-Failure to connect with the setting usually means that it’s just unremarkable. It’s adequate  but completely identical to many other stories I’ve read.

-Boring. When you fail to hold my interest. Yes, this is a failure to connect with the book because usually it means there are most of these “failures” are present to some degree.

-Failure on my part. Admittedly, I’m just not the right audience for some stories.

-Failure to actually be a book. This is where giant plot holes, bad grammar, slat characters, etc come in. Eyes glaze over and I check out.

Now there are a few other things.

I HATE rape-disguised-as-romance stories. A guy raping a girl but it’s okay because she realizes she was attracted to him is NOT COOL. Being attracted to someone isn’t consent. Even if it’s to teach someone about their super powers, or save the world (I’m talking to you Any Given Doomsday.)

I HATE torture-kill-obsessed-with-woman-who-rejected-you stories. Or thinly veiled author-gets-revenge-on-people stories.

I hate author intrusion. Sometimes you gotta manipulate the characters to get them where you want them. Don’t just throw them into a story and then force them to fit. Don’t make them voices for your aggravation. Don’t make every other female character jealous of and nasty to your powerful PC. I’m calling you out, Anita Blake.

I’m not big on slow stories. Even pretty ones. Forward momentum. Something NEEDS to happen. Plot is good. If Anne Rice can still keep the mystery continuing you can too.

Finally, entitlement. If an author expects me to buy the book to support the indie press, or the little guy, expects praise no matter what for putting some crayon smears on some paper and feeling entitled to have people pay them for it…yes, I will toss the book unread into my resale pile. Or the trash. I feel writers owe people their best stories. If your best isn’t amazing, that won’t get me upset because we can’t all be Neil Gaiman. But if you admit to putting up incomplete or unedited or first draft work and expect people to buy it, sometimes for high prices, that’s when I get offended. And fairly protective of readers. Readers owe writers to buy/read their work legitimately/legally. Writers owe readers their best efforts. Violating that gets me a little upset.

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