In the aftermath of the events of Steelheart, Sanderson sends us from Newcago to Babilar, the watery remains of New York City, where the Reckoners must face off against Regailia, a water Epic.  Sanderson has layered his story with so much conflict and potential, that each revelation just deepens the potential and greatness of the story.  Superheroes out of control are my particular comicbook fix — The Boys, Irredeemable, Kick Ass — and this young adult book series doesn’t disappoint.

I thought, maybe it’s the fantasy that’s hamstringing Goodkind.  Maybe freed from the fetters he can do something new.  But ol’ Terry don’t let us down.  He wrote the same story, chock full of his objectivist claptrap and hamfisted romantic blather.  It’s even worse without magic.  And this one even kind of has magic.  It’s One Flew Over The Fountainhead. 

The prolific Sanderson has started his own young adult series.  A mysterious star appears in the sky over earth, giving superhuman powers to certain folks, who become Epics.  And the Epics are ASSHOLES.  They quickly claim cities as their own fiefdoms and only a small group of resistance called The Reckoners can stop them.  It’s an excellent series full of charm if at times a little TOO kitschy quirk.

Hamilton kind of shaved off the pornstache for a while there, after her vampire hunter stopped hunting and spent her time humping.  She found a nice bang-balance for a bit, between the gunshots and the cumshots.  Now, she’s slipping back.  While zombie porn and a shiny zombie lover (not Anita’s) are the major thrust of the story, they get shunted aside for Anita to angst-y deal with her insanely complex polyamourous multi-gendered many-partnered relationship.  Now that there’s wedding bells involved.  Going to the chapel and […]

I’m just so done.  Even though he tries to emotionally manipulate us with major character kills, the book takes forever.  It should have been over three books ago.  It’s just the same repetitive, mansplaining, everyone loves Richard horseshit from the last eleventy-teen books.  It ends in November. (But I’m reading his alternate universe stand-alone modern one next.)

Another western that got touted as a cross between horror, dimestore shoot-em-up and Asian gorefest.  True on all counts.  If this were a film, I’d watch the fuck out of it.  And it’s somewhere between The Searchers and The Wild Bunch.  Brutal, gory, savage.  My only real beef was that the writing was a little over poetic — like it was narrated by Val Kilmer’s Doc Holliday.  Even the title suffers from that.