It's the end of the world as we know it, and I feel fine...

Getting back to the roots of this blog, I will be returning to book reviews for awhile. I've been on a post-apocalyptic kick lately, probably seeking inspiration for the book I'm working on now. Three books, all about dealing with the world's end, and they could not be more different. One a very good if fairly standard YA thriller, one a very weird YA book that could have been written by the ghost of Kurt Vonnegut, and a very adult book that reads like a Patrick O'Brien novel if Jack Aubrey traded his 19th century sailing frigate for a 21st century guided missile destroyer.

Today's offering is The Fifth Wave, which asks the question, "What would happen if a civilization that had mastered interstellar travel decided they had a beef with us?", and answers that question with "We would get our asses handed to us, quickly." The book centers  on 16 year old Cassie, one of the very few humans who survived the first four waves of the alien attack, and mostly centers on her desperate quest to reunite with her little brother. Along the way she is shot by a Silencer, an alien in human form who roam the countryside in a "mopping up" operation, hunting the last remaining human survivors. Seemingly miraculously surviving this encounter, she is found by a local farmboy, Evan, who nurses her back to health and seems eager to help Cassie find her brother. But the invader's most devastating weapon is the fear and distrust they have successfully sown among the human survivors, making them wonder who is an alien hiding in plain sight, and Cassie must decide if she can trust Evan, who's obviously hiding something...

The other part of the book centers on Cassie's schoolmate and long time crush Ben, who's been taken along with other surviving kids to a military base, and pressed into service to fight the alien invaders. After a brutal training regiment (that kind feels like a weak rip-off of Full Metal Jacket), Ben and his squad are sent off to strike back at their faceless enemies. But something is off about their mission, their training, and most of all their commanders...

The two narratives finally intertwine in a satisfying and thrilling climax, which sets up the next book in the series. The book is immersive and well written, and there's a lot I like about the Others and the way they attack humanity, and shows more realistically how such an advanced civilization would walk over us without any trouble, and the only reason they haven't killed everyone by the end of the first book is (MINOR SPOILER ALERT) not all the aliens are on board with the "kill all humans" plan.

Overall, I liked this book quite a bit and look forward to reading the next book in the series. It's been well received and also has been adapted into a movie starring Chloe Moretz and Liev Schreiber due out next year.  Check it out!

Profiles in (Moral) Courage

Howdy folks! After a very long hiatus, I'm back! Been a busy almost-year. My epic two-and-a-half year odyssey to move out to the country has finally come to a successful conclusion, and I'm halfway done with the first draft of my next book! Working title The World I Woke Up To, it is apart from the world of The Eighth Day, though once again it will center on a group of young people about to have a very bad day :)

(Note: the following post contains spoilers for The Eighth Day) 

So Bruce Jenner is a woman now.

I don't know how you all feel about that, I know that it's so far down on my list of things to worry about it hardly bears mentioning. Personally I don't care. In my humble opinion people ought to be free to live the way they want, as long as they're not hurting anyone else. I kinda thought that was the whole point of America. But the conversations it has started have certainly been interesting to observe.

A lot of people seem up in arms about Caitlyn Jenner's ESPY award. I saw a lot of social media posts outraged that the runner up was a wounded soldier, and they were incensed that she could be called brave in light of what he had done. Let's ignore for a moment that the meme was bullshit and there are no “runner-ups” for the ESPYs....you know what, let's not ignore that. I'm awfully tired of people making shit up to push their agendas. If you find you have to lie to further your cause, you need to take a step back and ask yourself, “Am I really the good guy here?” (Hint: No. No you are not.)

But back to my main point. There are different kinds of courage, and physical courage is no more important than moral courage. In fact, I think physical courage is far easier to come by. It's rarely more than a few blocks away, at your local fire station, police preceint, or military base. Men and women who signed up to kick open a door, no way of knowing what was on the other side; a roaring inferno, a deranged gunman, a booby-trap IED.

It's been said the average person fears public speaking (and, more to the point, public judgment and scorn) more than death. I don't know if that's actually true or not, but from reading dozens of aviation and maritime accident reports I know that some people literally did fear speaking up more than death, and death is what they got. They knew something was wrong, that bad decisions were being made, that they could die as a result, and still they kept quiet. 

I've tasted fear a time or two, battled it back, and moved on with the task at hand. In the end, it didn't seem like that big a deal. What I wish I had was more moral courage. To be able to rock the boat, confront head-on the rampant racism, sexism, homo- and transphobia I find myself surrounded by on an almost daily basis, and not from behind the relative safety of a keyboard. That, I feel, takes a great deal more courage than putting one's self in harm's way. I'm proud of the one time I stood up to a bully for a friend, but the pride in that one shining moment is outweighed by the shame of all the times I could have but didn't. 

I've known lots of people we might call brave, for putting their lives on the line for one reason or another. Yet I can only truly recall witnessing one person who continually displayed moral courage. I was very privileged to serve under a commanding officer who on several occasions stood up to his higher ups when they pressured him to sacrifice the safety of his subordinates for the sake of financial or political expediency. I can't say with certainty that this was what ended his career, but it certainly didn't help, and I wouldn't bet otherwise. And considering I was one of those subordinates, I am eternally grateful. I hope he sleeps soundly at night in the knowledge that he brought all of us home safe. What he did requires a special kind of bravery that I think is far harder to come by than physical courage.

In THE EIGHTH DAY, Kathy Winters never flies or jumps out of a plane, or disarms a bio-weapon, and just barely escapes the two physical altercations she's involved in. Yet I have long considered her the bravest of my protagonists, and the real hero of the book. It is the moral courage she displays at the beginning of the story, standing up for Jay in the most public way possible when he becomes the ultimate outcast, that will ultimately allow them to save the world. She could have easily staid quiet, or even offered support in private. Most of us would have probably felt behind-the-scenes support would be effort enough for a friend in such a situation, but if that's all she had done, he would have gone to jail, and the Last Triumvirate's conspiracy would have continued, undetected and uninhibited until it was too late. Especially for a teenager, who generally doesn't deal with life-or-death situations and at an age where social ostracism can indeed be the worst fate life can dole out, I think her actions are even braver than her male friends (particularly when considering she doesn't know the stakes of inaction, where as they are keenly aware of what the respective outcomes will be if they don't act).

I don't know Caitlyn Jenner personally and can't speak to her motivations for conducting her transition in such a public way, but the scorn and bile already directed at her has only proven her bravery, and if she can use her celebrity status to help see that trans people are treated with the same respect and dignity every human being should be afforded, then I say Bravo Zulu, Caitlyn.

-Mike, out. 

I continue to punch dead people...

So I've made a pretty sizeable dent in my reading list (some down time whilst traveling helps), and I'm here again with yet another author request review.

You can read my review for the first book in Jim Bernheimer's Dead Eye series, Pennies for the Ferryman. I enjoyed that one, but was really impressed with the second book in the series, The Skinwalker Conspiracies. It's a rare sequel that improves on the original in almost every way. The narrative was tighter, and while the first book sometimes seemed like a collection of (appropriately titled) episodes, the episodes in this book feel more connected and seem to do a better job of advancing the story and creating the feeling of an overarching story arc.

It helps that protagonist Mike Ross has somewhat settled into his role as the Ferryman at this point and now, rather than just learning about his new found powers, he's a man on a mission. Because of that, there's an element of suspense and urgency that permeates The Skinwalker Conspiracies that didn't really show up until the last act of the first book. Plus it still retains the sardonic gallows humor and even more wild takes on the (after)lives of the rich and famous.

Probably the best addition is instead of a collection of increasingly difficult "boss fights" Mike gets into in the first book, there's a Big Bad who looms over the entire story. I won't spoil who it is but again, students of history will enjoy these books.

This is the first audiobook I've heard read by Jeffery Kafer, and I really think he was a perfect fit for the book. For some reason his voice and performance reminds me of Nick Offerman, just at a somewhat higher pitch. He really nails the tone you would imagine the character having.

All told I really enjoyed this audiobook and highly recommend it.

-Mike, out.

Freaks and Greeks

Up next for review by author request is My Lady Olives: Maiden of Migraines by Mandy Oviatt. The lady in this case is college junior Olisbeth Mason, and no, that is not a typo. “Olives” as she is known to her friends due to her affinity for olives (the Greek references and imagery in the beginning of the book are not subtle), starts off her junior year crossing paths with a pair of twins that will do much to shape the coming events in her life: her roommate Phobe and eventually Phobe’s enigmatic brother Arthur, with whom she will become romantically entangled. Olisbeth’s primary nemesis is her severe and frequent migraines, along with a snobby college professor. But nothing in Olisbeth’s life is what it seems, not even her frequent headaches. Eventually she will learn she has the power to send her migraines telepathically to those she deems more deserving of them…and that will be the least surprising thing she discovers. 

As much as this book telegraphs a lot of the revelations, it still manages to hook you into it. A lot of this stems from dramatic visions the Olisbeth will eventually learn come from past lives. And despite the heavy foreshadowing, it still pulls off some good plot twists. Olisbeth and Arthur are probably a little to perfect as far as people go, even for Greek gods made flesh (most of us would go a little drunk with power if we could give migraines to people), but the other characters are a little more engaging. Even the romance between Arthur and Olives turns out to be less a romantic subplot and more an intricately intertwined part of the main plot.

This book’s real Achilles’ heel (yes, pun intended) is a lack of professional editing and formatting. Awkwardly worded sentences and internal monologues that aren’t clearly defined abound, particularly in the beginning.  I don’t think you have to be a grammar Nazi to be a good writer, but you’d better have a friend who is (or be willing to fork over some cash for a good professional editor). Also I tried downloading the .mobi for Kindle verision and it kept not displaying pages in the right order, so I ended up only able to read it on the Universal Book Reader app on my phone. (The UB reader app on my computer also had some issues). Self-publishing may well be the way the industry is going but this book kind of highlights some of the issues that self-published writers face and why there is still some stigma attached to it. It reads less like a polished commercial product and more like a good rough draft.

So between those two issues there were a few times I almost stopped reading the book, but the plot kept drawing me back in. Greek mythology is a considerably under-utilized source for storytelling nowadays, considering the rich universe they inhabit. The only real place I see it happening is the Percy Jackson series by Rick Riordan.

So anyway, if you like new-adult paranormal romance and Greek mythology (and can get past the editing and formatting issues),  Oviatt’s entry into the genre is worth your time and a few bucks for the e-book.

-Mike, out

Truth is stranger than fiction....

Well, I had originally planned to put this on THE EIGHTH DAY's Goodreads page under trivia but it didn't really fit there so I decided to post it here.

I've been reading some reader reviews of the book (my favorite comment so far is "a big dumb summer blockbuster movie in book form. I can't help but like it". I'll drink to that. Now if it could only become a big dumb summer blockbuster movie in movie form, I'd be in business). I won't defend the book's wild implausibility, I think that's part of the appeal of fiction is that we're not necessarily bound to reality.

That said...sometimes reality seems implausible too. And the book's most ridiculous sequence was inspired by not one but three true stories that are almost as ridiculous.

In October of 1944, 20 year old USAAF pilot Bruce Carr was shot down over Czechoslovakia. Knowing there was a German air base nearby he headed towards it, intending to surrender to the Luftwaffe rather than risk capture by the Gestapo (the Luftwaffe tended to treat downed Allied pilots reasonably well). Upon finding the airbase he noticed a lone FW-190 fighter plane being serviced by a ground crew. They left as night fell and Carr snuck over the fence and climbed into the cockpit. As dawn rose he tinkered enough with the plane that he was able to get the engine started, and had figured out enough of the controls (even though he couldn't read the German labels) to get it airborne. He drew fire from Allied positions the entire flight back to his base in France, where he belly-landed it before the base defenders could shoot him down (he had no radio to tell them he was friendly, and they likely wouldn't have believed him anyway). He was surrounded by MP’s until his CO came out, shocked to see him sitting in the cockpit of a German fighter, reportedly remarked, “Carr, where the hell have you been?” Carr would go on to score 14 kills and become one of the top-ranked aces of WWII.

"Man, I forgot to get the supplemental insurance" 

On May 28, 1987, 18 year old Mathias Rust, an inexperienced private pilot from Germany, flew a Cessna 172 into Russian airspace and boldly landed it in Red Square in downtown Moscow. Miss-communication and confusion prevented Soviet air defenses from intercepting him, and the embarrassment led to dismissal of many high-ranking officials and may have hastened the end of the Cold War. Rust was tried for “hooliganism” and served several months in prison before being released.

'sup, comrades?

Almost exactly 2 years later, 26 year old Russian air force pilot Alexander Zuyev, seeking to escape the Soviet Union (and his soon-to-be-ex-wife) drugged his squadron mates with a cake heavily infused with sleeping pills and walked out to the flight line. A mechanic saw him and tried to stop him, they struggled and Zuyev eventually shot him with a pistol, wounding him. He then hopped into his MiG-29, fired it up, and flew 150 miles to the NATO base in Trabzon, Turkey, before anyone could pursue him. He was granted asylum by the United States and immigrated to San Diego, and died in a stunt-plane crash in 2001

"You can't just fly away from your problems, Alex!" 

But he totally could, and it was awesome. 

So now you know. And knowing is half the battle.

-Mike, out. 

I punch dead people...

And now for something completely different…

Code Name Verity was a great book, but man, what a kick in the feels. So today I come to you with some much lighter fare. Today’s review is Dead Eye: Pennies for the Ferryman, the first book in Jim Bernheimer’s Ferryman Series.

Protagonist Mike Ross is born to lose. Growing up poor and eventually fatherless, his fortunes don’t improve in adulthood. His stint in the US Army is cut short by an Iraqi IED, but his troubles have barely begun once he arrives back home. To repair his damaged eye he’s given a cornea transplant, and he’s rather dismayed to find out his new eye allows him to see the dearly (and not so dearly) departed. Mike eventually learns he’s a Ferryman, someone who can see, speak to, and interact with the dead (and “interact” in this case usually means “get his ass beat”). Some of these spirits just want to cross over, and Mike is happy to help…for a small fee. Others just want to cause trouble, and trouble seems to follow Mike wherever he goes. Along the way he collects an odd assortment of allies (and enemies), from battered housewives and dead Army buddies to Union Army Generals and Supreme Court Justices.

Pennies is a fairly straight-forward story with a few good plot twists sprinkled throughout, and it’s a very  fun read. Mike has a very sardonic sense of humor, and it’s always easy to cheer for an underdog, which he’s been his whole life. He’s a Ghostbuster on a shoe-string budget; no fancy proton packs here, just a trusty pipe wrench, some iron filings, and a mean right hook. History buffs will enjoy the historical characters, from the Poe family to Union Army officers and soldiers like John Reynolds and Strong Vincent. I really enjoyed this book (and it was a nice palate cleanser after Verity), and if you like adventure fiction with a dose of the paranormal, you probably will too.

I got the audiobook for the second book in the series, The Skinwalker Conspiracies, so stay tuned and I’ll post a review of that one as well when I finish.

Pennies for the Ferryman is available on Amazon for Kindle, in paperback, and on Audible. 

-Mike, out

"I have told the truth"

Wow.

Bear with me, this may be a long and rambling post disguised as a book review. It is rare to read a piece of fiction that can strike such a chord with you, but every once in a while…

About a month or so ago I found a promotion for several audiobooks, offering the chance to download one for free. I picked Code Name Verity, the story of two young women during the middle of the Second World War.

If this sounds familiar on this blog, it is. I read Violins of Autumn earlier, and like that book, this one also centers on the British Special Operations Executive and its agents, but the two books could not be more different. Verity is the book Autumn only wishes it could be.

Codename Verity tells the story of Julie Beaufort Stewart and Maddie Broddart, two young women who could hardly be more different, yet quickly become the closest of friends. Both are members of the Royal Air Force’s Women’s Auxiliary, though both eventually find their way to the roles they were meant for: cool, aristocratic Julie (a Scot descended from no less than William Wallace (Braveheart)), who can effortlessly be anyone she wants to be, is recruited into the British SOE. Maddie, daughter of eastern European Jewsish immigrants, is one of the few pre-war women pilots in England and is eventually allowed to join the Air Transport Auxiliary, Brittan’s answer to the US WASP program. One fateful night they find themselves on an ill-fated mission to occupied France.

The first half of the book is told through a diary written by Julie as she is interrogated by the Gestapo. Her mission in France was over before it began, bailing out of a burning plane and quickly captured by the enemy, but even by these meager standards she has fared better than Maddie, based on the pictures of the wrecked plane and its remaining occupant her Nazi interrogators show her. The diary is supposedly for the Gestapo captain in charge of her interrogation, but mostly it’s a meandering narrative about her and Maddie met, and how their friendship grew, and perhaps most of all, how Maddie came to fall in love with flying.

The second half of the book comes totally out of left field and it’s an emotional roller-coaster. You’ve written off both of these girls from the very beginning, Maddie in the plane crash and Julie marked for execution, and with D-Day more than six months away you know there’s no cavalry coming. Yet the plot twists come fast and furious and author Elizabeth Wein could give a master class in suckerpunching your readers. You have forgotten that Julie is a spy, and in a spy’s world no one is who they say they  are and nothing is what it seems.

This book is a wonderful piece of genuine literature. It is beautifully written (and if you get the audiobook, which I highly recommend, beautifully narrated). I’ve heard it said that even the most articulate American sounds crass by English standards, and this book kind of makes me think whoever said it might be on to something. Though Wein is American by birth, it should come as no surprise that she’s spent much of her life in England, Scotland, and other places with significant British influence.

It should come as even less of a surprise that Wein is a pilot herself. I don’t think any non-pilot could have truly captured the love Maddie has for flight, or how magical, beautiful, exhilarating, and sometimes terrifying it can be.

I have thought much about flying lately. I’ve had a few chances to go this year, only as a passenger, but better than not being up there at all. I met a young airline pilot at a party earlier this year and realized how much I missed being surrounded by peers who share my passion. I also recently rented How to Train Your Dragon, and found it odd that it captures just how magical the notion of human flight is so much better than most of the aviation movies I’ve seen. I also now understand the people who saw Avatar and became very depressed because Pandora is not a real place, I feel the same about Toothless. As an animal lover and an aviator I would love a pet that combines the loyalty of a dog, the playfulness of a cat, and the maneuvering characteristics and firepower of a F-35 J

About a month ago I was manning a recruiting booth for the Coast Guard Auxiliary’s Aviation program at a local Women Can Fly event, and I thought of Maddie as I saw these young girls stream in and out of the building. You could quickly tell who had just been up for a ride, see it in their faces. One girl and her father came up to talk to me, she couldn’t have been more than a freshman in high school, and said she wanted to be a pilot in the Coast Guard when she graduated from college. It is heartening to see how far we have come; yet disheartening to see how long it has taken. Women have been pilots for almost as long as there have been pilots, yet they still make up less than ten percent of the pilot population. They even today, in 2014, face outright sexism that would not be tolerated in virtually any other arena. People seem to think there is some magical quality one needs to be a pilot, and while they’re wrong about the specifics, they’re not wrong in general. It’s a quality that transcends race, sex, creed, or religion: It’s love. Love of flying.

“But it ain't all buttons and charts, little albatross. You know what the first rule of flying is? Well, I suppose you do, since you already know what I'm about to say.”

“I do. But I like to hear you say it”

“Love. You can learn all the math in the 'Verse, but you take a boat in the air that you don't love, she'll shake you off just as sure as the turning of the worlds. Love keeps her in the air when she oughta fall down, tells you she's hurtin' 'fore she keens. Makes her a home.”

(-Malcom Reynolds and River Tam, Serenity)

I’ve flown with men who have flown in places I have only read about in the history books: Guadalcanal; The Chosin Reservoir; Hanoi. I have flown with men who have flown counter-narcotics in Central America in a 4-engine piston plane, where 100 feet above the ground was considered “too high”. I have flown with men who have flown rescue aircraft into superstorms so others may live. Yet probably the best pilot I have ever flown with was a young woman, just a few years older and a few hundred hours more experienced than me. She was one of my instructors at school, and it was her passion for flying that showed through in every aspect of everything she did. That passion was relentless, and it made her relentless. When she wasn’t flying (6 days a week weather permitting), she was in the maintenance hanger, soaking up every bit of knowledge about each of the different types of aircraft we flew. She was very demanding, of herself and her students, and that meant sometimes she was a royal pain to fly with and learn from, but I never learned more, or was a better pilot, than when I was flying with her. Yet despite all her professionalism and just generally being a hard-ass, there was no hiding her exuberance that came from flying, like her giddiness when we (flying a light piston twin) received ATC instruction to reduce speed to follow a Citation private jet on approach (“Dude! We just got told to slow down to follow a jet!”)

My point in this rambling mess is that aviation should be the most, not the least, inclusive community in the world. We have all looked up at the sky, at the birds, and wondered what it’s like in their world. Those of us who know have been granted a special privilege, and we should extend a welcome invitation to all who want to join us.

Also, Codename Verity was a very good book and you should go read it J

 -Mike, out.