Review: "American Gods" by Neil Gaiman

A storm is coming, and its name is Neil Gaiman.

Acclaimed for his work on the classic "Sandman" comic, Gaiman has since turned his attention to novels - and he just keeps getting better.

"American Gods" (William Morrow) is easily his most ambitious book so far, and it firmly establishes him as one of the best fantasists in the business.

Shadow is a man that made a mistake - one he's spent three years paying for. As his parole hearing approaches, Shadow wants only to put the experience behind him, to return to his wife and his old life. But those dreams are shattered when he's released a few days early - to attend his wife's funeral.

On his way home, he meets a man named Wednesday who offers him a job as a bodyguard. His mysterious employer soon reveals himself as Odin, the All-Father of the Norse pantheon, and he begins to lay out Shadow's part in the coming war between the new gods of technology and the old gods who came to America with the first settlers.

Shadow's journey will take him to every corner of the country and some places that perhaps mortals shouldn't tread.

"American Gods" is a bit darker and grittier than any of Gaiman's previous novels, and it's definitely the most far-reaching. The book tackles some serious social issues as it entertains, making some pointed statements about spirituality and morality in America.

At the same time, Gaiman manages to address those issues without being heavy-handed or judgmental. For the most part, he leaves the reader to draw his own conclusions as he concentrates on spinning a gripping tale of adventure.

While perhaps a bit more serious than his other novels, "American Gods" still has a flair that's uniquely Gaiman. It's filled with a colorful cast of over-the-top characters, and the whole story has a fairy-tale feel to it. That's what Gaiman does best, and he's in top form here.

Another interesting aspect of "American Gods" is Gaiman's interpretation of the "old gods." He takes the reader's vague concept of mythological gods and turns them into believable characters that the reader can identify with. He also sprinkles legendary figures from King Arthur to Johnny Appleseed in cameos throughout the book.

"American Gods" shows Neil Gaiman stretching his creative muscles and the results are fantastic, delivering a solid story now and a great promise for the future.

Review: "The Hobbit: An Illustrated Edition of the Fantasy Classic" by J.R.R. Tolkien, et al

With the first movie in "The Lord of the Rings" trilogy due out in December, the rush is on. People will probably get sick of seeing the name J.R.R. Tolkien under my byline between now and then, but it's a subject near and dear to me.

One of the first entries in the Tolkien bonanza is "The Hobbit: An Illustrated Edition of the Fantasy Classic" from Del Rey. The adaptation, in graphic novel format, is illustrated by David Wenzel and adapted by Charles Dixon and Sean Deming.

I'm always a little leary of any adaptation of Tolkien. His work has been abused quite often, and it always leaves me furious. I once saw a stage production of "The Hobbit" in which Bilbo Baggins struck down the dragon Smaug with his short sword Sting, something that seems ridiculous to any devoted Tolkien-ite. And I don't have to tell any fan of "The Lord of the Rings" about the disastrous cartoon adaptations of the books.

Every now and then, I get a pleasant surprise, though. Wenzel, Dixon and Deming follow Tolkien's vision closely, while adding an appealing visual dimension to the story.

The first thing I noticed about this book was the gorgeous cover by Donato Giancola. His rendering of Gandalf shows the imperious wizard I imagined on first reading "The Hobbit." His vision of Bilbo is one of the more realistic I've seen - even more so than the slightly bulbous-nosed rendering of the hobbit inside.

But that's not to take anything away from Wenzel's artwork. Wenzel strikes a delicate balance between classic comic book art and the more somber works of artists known for their interpretations of Tolkien's world, like Alan Lee and John Howe.

More impressively, though, Wenzel does something that's very tough - and that is to draw characters that are recognizable from the image in the reader's mind. While the Bilbo, Gandalf and Thorin Oakenshield of my mind aren't exactly the ones that Wenzel put on paper, they're close.

By the very nature of the graphic novel format, though, there are weaknesses in this offering. One thing that makes Tolkien's work so appealing is the language - not just the language of the narrative, but the songs and legends as well. This book gives the reader snippets of some of the more important songs, but most of that is lost.

The book also seems a little rushed. Again, that's probably due to the format. The graphic novel calls for near-constant action, otherwise the art component would get a little boring. "The Hobbit" loses a little of its charm in the transition, but it keeps enough of it to satisfy Tolkien fans.

All in all, the strengths of this adaptation far outweigh the weaknesses. It will be a welcome addition to any Tolkien fan's collection.

Review: "Windhaven" by George R.R. Martin and Lisa Tuttle

During the last few years, George R.R. Martin has become one of the most recognized names in fantasy with his "Song of Ice and Fire" series, which has garnered several awards and a spot on the best seller list. Lisa Tuttle's most recent novel, "The Pillow Friend," won some of the top honors in the speculative genres - including the Locus Poll Award and the Bram Stoker Award.

But both writers have been around - and winning awards - for quite a while. Back in 1981, the duo teamed up for a novel called "Windhaven." For the book's 20th anniversary, Bantam Spectra has re-released it in a new hardcover edition.

Windhaven is a world of islands, wracked by violent storms which make ocean travel dangerous and at times impossible. The star sailors, who originally colonized the world, brought with them a metal cloth that they learned how to fashion into wings that allowed them to ride the storm's fierce winds.

Since that time, the flyers have become revered members of society, a caste the equal of the ruling Landsmen and far above the land-bound. Tradition dictates that the wings be passed down to a flyer's firstborn child when that child comes of age.

That's all about to change, though. Maris of Lesser Amberly is a land-bound child that dreams of the skies. She's adopted by the flyer Russ and trained to soar on the winds. But then her adoptive father has a son. By tradition, the wings must go to that son, but Maris' step-brother Coll has no desire to fly. Together, they challenge the age-old customs of flyer society and win. But that's where the real problems begin.

Fans of Martin who are expecting something like "Song of Ice and Fire" will be disappointed. It was written long before the current series and at a time when his focus was on science fiction rather than fantasy. On the other hand, fans who approach it with an open mind will find a lot to like.

The most intriguing aspect of "Windhaven" is the layout of the book. At first, I was a little disappointed that what I expected to be the main conflicts - the challenging of tradition and the struggle for acceptance - were seemingly resolved early in the book. But, like Maris, this novel also challenges traditional ideas.

Rather than one continuous story with a beginning, middle and end, "Windhaven" is more like a collection of short stories that reflect the pivotal moments in the life of someone who has had a great impact on her society. At first it may seem a little disjointed and choppy, but viewed as a collection of scenes, it becomes a powerful tale of change and the consequences of that change.

Some online fans of Martin have been critical of the book because it's unlike his more recent work. I disagree. There are numerous similarities between this book and his newer works, especially in the characters. Maris is a great deal like Arya in her strength and determination, and I have to believe that perhaps Val One-Wing was a forerunner to the Imp - a character who is exceptionally unlikeable - but somehow the reader ends up pulling for him.

If you can approach this book without preconceived notions of what it should be like, it will make an enjoyable interlude during the wait for the next volume of "Song of Ice and Fire."

Stan Lee I'm not, but I keep trying

I've always been a fan of comics. As a kid, I can remember wanting to go to the grocery store every time my grandparents went, because I knew I could talk them into sparing 50 cents for the latest issue of "The Lost World of the Warlord," "The Incredible Hulk" or "The Uncanny X-Men" - and every now and then I even talked them into a little more for "The Savage Sword of Conan."

I remember going into the store with my grandparents or my mom and going directly to the magazine rack, where I'd look at comics while they shopped. I'd always pick a few that I'd ask for. Sometimes they'd come home with me, sometimes not. I had much more luck with my grandparents than my mom.

Most of those comics are, unfortunately, gone. Unlike the neatly-packed and well-organized boxes of plastic-bagged comics I have now, I didn't think of them as collectibles. I read them several times and then they were discarded - usually stained and torn, and occasionally colored on.

Still, I was always fascinated by the artwork and the idea of these brightly-costumed, muscular heroes who used their superpowers to save the world.

To be completely honest, I'm pretty sure I dreamed of growing up to become one of them, no matter how unrealistic. I think I always expected my mutant powers to develop in my teen years - and, in truth, I'm still waiting. The only one I've noticed so far is the uncanny ability to make everything I touch go haywire - not very useful.

Comics have changed a lot since the days when I could get my weekly fix for 50 cents or less. Back then, they were made cheaply and intended to be disposable entertainment for kids just like me at the comic stand in the grocery store. Now, many of them are better packaged with stiff covers and printed on slick pages - built to last for collectors. There's also a downside to that, though. All of the few titles I still collect cost over $2 per issue - an amount of money that would have seemed like a small fortune to me in those days.

The change in price also makes me wonder how many kids today will grow up with comics the way I did. I don't know if many grandparents will be as willing to drop $2-3 on a comic book. Then again, as far as I know, a lot of grocery stores don't even sell comics anymore. The grocery store or drug store comic book rack where I spent so many hours as a kid is perhaps becoming a thing of the past.

My fascination with comic art hasn't disappeared, though. I've even gone so far as to attempt to create my own comic book a few times. The first attempt, I believe, was in junior high. I came up with a character I named Vigilante.

Even then, I knew my weaknesses when it came to art. Vigilante's torso was built like a WWF wrestler, but he wore a mask that covered his face, eliminating the need for me to give him one. His hands, too, were always balled into fists and always rested on his hips. It didn't take me long to realize that, since this was the only pose I could draw well, an entire comic would be pretty boring.

I tried again in high school. This time I would be the writer, while a friend of mine - and a pretty good artist - would do the artwork. This one had a chance, but it never quite materialized.

Recently I decided to give it another shot, when I received "How to Draw Those Bodacious Bad Babes of Comics" by Frank McLaughlin and Mike Gold.

First, let me say that you need to read the book all the way through before attempting the exercises. It's a little inconsistent in that some of the early exercises include facial features and hands before the writers have discussed them. The reader will be a little lost if he hasn't read ahead.

Despite any confusion that might cause, the book has some solid tips and puts the artists' techniques in simple language. They made it sound so easy that I had to pull out my sketchbook and give one of the exercises a shot.

I don't think Stan Lee will be giving me a call to launch his next comic. But it was one of the better drawings I've done. Of course, this was drawn from an exercise, so I had a finished reference point to look at. It was much less difficult than drawing a character out of my imagination, which I haven't worked up the confidence to try yet.

I still have the same weaknesses. I thank McLaughlin and Gold for putting a mask on the character in this exercise, or it would have been a complete disaster. As it is, the face still could use a lot of work. And I won't even talk about the hands, which are closer to talons. Hmm ... every superhero has to have an Achilles' heel, though. Maybe hers is arthritis.

"How to Draw Those Bodacious Bad Babes of Comics" does have a good examination of facial features and hands, but it was hard for me to apply the exercises to my own drawing. As much as I like to draw, I guess I've just got to face the fact that's not where my talents lie.

The book did help my figure drawing a little, but that's always been my strong point. Still, it was an enjoyable read that offered a good overview and some interesting insights into drawing female comic characters, both good and evil.

It's not quite as in-depth as some other books on the subject of comic art, but it's a solid starting point - especially for someone who just wants to draw for the enjoyment of it.

For now, I guess I'll content myself with reading comics and appreciating the artwork of people who know what they're doing. But when those mutant powers finally reveal themselves, who knows?

Review: "Planet of the Apes" by Pierre Boulle

It's a rare thing for me to see the movie before I've read the book, but I was taken by surprise recently. I remember seeing "Planet of the Apes" when I was younger, as well as its sequels and even the television show it spawned. But I was completely unaware that it was all based on a book.

First published in 1965, Pierre Boulle's "Planet of the Apes" has recently been re-released by Del Rey in time for the big-budget remake of the movie. The version is translated from French by Xan Fielding.

It's an unusual situation for me. My entire perception of "Planet of the Apes" comes from the movie, which I consider one of the classics of science fiction. So I approached the book with the same trepidation usually reserved for movie adaptations.

What I discovered was a similar, yet deeper story than the one on the screen. Whereas the movie relies more on the action and the conflict, Boulle's book is more contemplative. The novel is a more cynical and satiric tale of role reversal.

The story is basically the same. A group of adventurers set out to explore deep space and encounter a planet very similar to Earth. On the planet, which they name Soror, they run into a strange tribe of humans who live in the forest and speak in primitive noises. When their launch is destroyed by the natives, they're stuck on the planet, and they soon discover a darker secret.

They believe that some trick of evolution has caused this world to take another fork - and it's apes, rather than humans, that rule the world. But that's not the real story. As journalist Ulysse Merou and a couple of his captors explore a ruin, they discover a secret that makes the human who talks a threat to the entire society of the planet.

Unlike the film, the book isn't a post-apocalyptic vision of the future. Instead, it's more of a cautionary tale about the human race's propensity for laziness - a theme we've seen time and again in the intervening years in science fiction books and movies where machines rule the world.

I did question the space travel aspect of the novel, which seems a little shaky. But then, the book was written in the early 1960s when space exploration was in its infancy.

The changed ending is a point of contention among fans for the remake, but the ending of the original movie was a deviation from the book. I won't spoil it, but Boulle's surprise is just as effective.

If you're a fan of the movie, Boulle's "Planet of the Apes" is a must-read. But even if you're not a fan of the movie, you can find something worthwhile in the book.

Review: "The Mists of Avalon" by Marion Zimmer Bradley

There have been hundreds of books written about the Arthurian legends, and for every good one, there are at least three or four bad ones.

I've read a lot of Arthurian fantasy, but there are only a couple that stick out in my mind as "must-reads." They include Sir Thomas Malory's "Le Morte D'Arthur," T.H. White's "The Once and Future King" and last, but certainly not least, Marion Zimmer Bradley's "The Mists of Avalon." Each of these books brings something different to the round table, "Mists of Avalon" most of all.

To coincide with the TNT miniseries, Del Rey has issued a Ballantine Reader's Circle edition of Bradley's classic, and it seemed like a good opportunity for me to revisit a book I hadn't read in a few years.

You've heard the stories about Arthur and his knights, but Morgaine - later known as Morgan Le Fay - is quick to tell you that most of them have, at the least, been exaggerated. Many are outright lies.

"Mists of Avalon" is unique in that it's told exclusively from the point of view of the major women in the legends - The Lady of the Lake Viviane, Arthur's mother Igraine, Arthur's aunt Morgause, Queen Gwenhwyfar and, of course, the key player Morgaine.

While the story follows the basic outline of most Arthurian legends, it takes a lot of detours from the worn path. Many things we take for granted in the legends, we find to have very different reasons for happening in Bradley's vision.

If history is viewed through the eyes of the victor, "Mists of Avalon" is the lost text written by the other side.

The reader will leave Bradley's book with a new understanding of Morgaine, a character so often viewed as an evil villain. In reality, she's more a victim of the changing times.

She's not the only one who gets a facelift, though. Bradley does an outstanding job of developing all the characters and revealing some surprising things about them. She takes already rich subject matter and makes it even more intriguing.

The book also tackles some tougher issues - including religion and gender roles.

Central to the story is the struggle between age-old pagan religions and the new Christianity, which is rapidly sweeping over the world. The tension between the earth-based religion of the Druids and the more rigid rules of the Christian church create a majority of the conflict in the tale.

Arthur is sworn to the Priestesses of Avalon to be a fair ruler to both the followers of the old ways and the Christian church, but Gwenhwyfar would have the old religions driven from her country. The struggle ultimately leads to his downfall.

Stemming from that same conflict is another involving the changing role of women. Before the rise of Christianity, women have been respected advisors, but the new church thinks it an affront for a woman to raise her voice, a problem that puts Morgaine constantly at odds with her brother's wife.

As for the TNT miniseries, it has the same problems that most Hollywood productions have - an attempt to cram an 800-page novel into four hours of film, with commercials. The filmmakers cut deeply and twist certain events for dramatic effect.

While I'll admit that Bradley's novel could have been trimmed a little, the film cuts far too much. Much of the conflict between the Christian and pagan religions - which is so key to the success of the book - is lost. Many of the excised scenes are also ones that are very telling about the characters. The result is instead of the rich personalities of Bradley's work, you have undeveloped cut-outs of many of the characters.

Despite its liberties, however, the film does follow the same basic plan as the book. It's also saved by impressive performances from Julianna Margulies, Joan Allen and Anjelica Huston. The actors chosen to portray the Merlin and Mordred, were also, in my estimation, perfect for the parts.

While the movie is entertaining, as with most things, it doesn't even come close to the power of the book. Enjoy the movie, then go out and buy the book. It's long and involved, but well worth the effort.

Review: "The Demon Spirit" by R.A. Salvatore

When R.A. Salvatore began his first "Demon Wars" series several years ago, I was disappointed. Salvatore is one of my favorite writers, but the first book in the series, "The Demon Awakens" seemed to cover the same old ground. The heroes - Elbryan and Jilseponie - struck me as far too similar to his famous characters Drizzt Do'Urden and Cattie-Brie from the Dark Elf books.

It was only recently that I pulled the second book, "The Demon Spirit," out of my to-be-read stack and gave the series another chance. I discovered that I had given up on it too quickly. In the second book, Elbryan and Pony became more distinct characters and the world fleshed itself out as Salvatore's own. It was a far more satisfying novel.

Now, comes "Ascendance," the first book in a second "Demon Wars" trilogy, and a lot has changed since the beginning of the series. Jilseponie, now revered as a hero, has won the heart of King Danube of Honce-the-Bear. When she accepts his offer of marriage and becomes queen, she has no idea of the pit of vipers she's about to step into. Though she's a hero, she was still born a peasant and the nobles don't like the idea of the "peasant queen."

At the same time, Aydrian, the son of Elbryan and Pony, is coming of age. As far as Jilseponie knows, she lost the child in a battle with the possessed Abellican leader Dalebert Markwart. In fact, the child was spirited from the field by the Touel'alfar and trained in the ways of the ranger. But now he has left the elven kingdom and taken the mantle Nighthawk, fitting of his desire to become more of a legend than his father.

With the help of a conveniently-worded decree by King Danube and the fallen monk Marcalo D'Unnero, Aydrian is about to make his presence known.

Since I haven't gotten around to reading "The Demon Apostle" or "Mortalis" - widely acclaimed as Salvatore's best work - I missed many of the changes. The rosy plague, the covenant of Avelyn and most importantly, the death of Elbryan Wyndon, the Nightbird, all passed me by. Fortunately, Salvatore does a good job of filling in the gaps in the prologue of this book, as well as through clues in the text. Prior knowledge of the characters and their world makes it a richer experience, but is not necessary.

"Ascendance" shows Salvatore's writing continuing to mature. Many of his early works were action-packed adventure tales, and when it comes to those, he's among the best. But now, he's turned his attention to other things. While there's still plenty of action in this book, there's a deeper side to "Ascendance." Courtly intrigue and elaborate conspiracies replace dazzling swordplay as the key conflicts are often fought with brains rather than brawn.

But fans of Salvatore's action sequences shouldn't be disappointed. There's still plenty of swordplay, and Salvatore is still in top form when it comes to combat scenes that put the reader in the middle of the action.

With "Ascendance," Salvatore has achieved a solid balance between action and intrigue and woven them into a very satisfying story. Though I haven't yet read "Mortalis" - and that may change my mind - at this point I have to rank this as Salvatore's best effort.

Review: "Dhalgren" by Samuel R. Delaney

It's been a long time since I put a book down and asked, "What was that?" But when I walked away from "Dhalgren" by Samuel R. Delany (Vintage), I honestly wasn't quite sure what I'd just read.

A man known only as the Kid comes to the town of Bellona, an American city shut off from the rest of the world by mysterious, cataclysmic events. The city is ever-changing, and neither the laws of man or nature hold sway.

Bellona has developed its own society, characterized by street gangs, what passes for the upper class in the desolate city and those who are just trying to get by.

Kid is searching for his identity, and Bellona may hold the answers. It certainly holds a lot more questions.
Originally published in 1974, "Dhalgren" has recently been reissued by Vintage, the first in a series of Delany re-issues scheduled for the next few years.

Though I wasn't really familiar with Delany before picking this book up, he seems as fascinating a character as any in the book. The Harlem native is often referred to as the first published African-American science fiction writer, as well as the first gay science fiction writer. But he shies away from the title, pointing out others who broke that ground before he did.

In addition to science fiction (which he refuses to call "sci-fi," saying it's a term "reserved for particularly brainless raygun and rocket-ship extravaganzas"), Delany has also written historical fiction, literary analysis, comic books and essays.

I'd never read Delany before, but as I understand it, "Dhalgren" is much more experimental than his other speculative books, like the upcoming Vintage releases "Babel-17" and "Nova," which earned him a reputation as one of the top science fiction writers of the 1960s and '70s. After delving into "Dhalgren," I'm looking forward to reading those.

When it was originally released, "Dhalgren" was a very controversial work. The intervening 27 years haven't made it any less thought-provoking. The book deals with issues the world is still struggling with a quarter century later and likely will still be facing in 25 more years - race, religion, sexuality and identity.
In the beginning, "Dhalgren" is difficult going. The book opens with the second half of a sentence, and for a while, only gets stranger. Delany's odd style that blends elegant prose and street-wise slang is sometimes beautiful, occasionally stark and often jarring.

This is the kind of book that requires multiple reads for a full appreciation. Don't expect everything to become clear at the end. The story itself is like a great jigsaw puzzle with a several pieces missing, and for the most part, Delany leaves it to the reader to fill in those gaps.

The people that populate Bellona are as strange a mix as Delany's style, ranging from the cyberpunk street gangs with their holographic projectors to characters that would be more at home in a literary classic. Come to think of it, though, that might be exactly where they are.

While it's considered science fiction, "Dhalgren" isn't a light read for a rainy day. It's a book that demands an investment from the reader. But the return is well worth it.

Review: "Dragons of a Lost Star" by Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman

Like the fabled gods of Krynn, Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman - the creators of the Dragonlance universe - left for a while. Concentrating on other projects, they only occasionally checked in with the world they created. In their absence, Krynn floundered, losing the momentum Weis and Hickman had lended to the early days of the saga.

Now they've returned to set things right - at least an old Dragonlance fan hopes so.

One thing's for sure: When Weis and Hickman return to Krynn, things change. The last time the duo combined for a Dragonlance tale, it ended with the gods abandoning the world and taking magic with them. Now it appears that at least one god is taking an interest again.

"Dragons of a Lost Star" (Wizards of the Coast), the second in Weis and Hickman's "War of Souls" trilogy, continues the tale of Mina, the mysterious warrior-cleric who appeared the night of a vicious storm and began spreading the word of the One True God. Along the path, she's won a number of great victories, drawing to her a loyal following of the Dark Knights of Neraka.

Now, having conquered the elven kingdom of Silvanost, Mina and her army have turned their attention to Solanthus, the stronghold of the Knights of Solamnia. Meanwhile, the great green dragon Beryl has focused her attention on the Qualinesti elves. And everyone seems to be interested in the Time-Journeying Device carried by Hero of the Lance Tasslehoff Burrfoot and the wizard Palin Majere.

Palin and Dalamar believe the only way to set the world right is to send Tasslehoff back to die in the Chaos War, as he should have. Instead Tas used the Time-Journeying Device to escape his fate. Now the spirits of the dead are unable to leave Krynn, and they're feeding on what little magic is left in the world. For the wizards, the implication is clear.

At the same time, the healer Goldmoon has been restored to her youth, and she's not happy about it. She's following a call steadily toward Nightlund and the Tower of High Sorcery for a confrontation with Mina and the unveiling of the identity of the One True God.

I was disappointed by one facet of the story (WARNING: Small spoiler in this paragraph.): Though I already suspected the real identity, I had been hoping the One True God would turn out to be Raistlin Majere. I've missed my favorite mage since his sacrifice, and the chaos on Krynn seemed to me to be the perfect time for him to re-enter the world. Alas, I was disappointed, but there's still hope for his return in the third book.

The most remarkable thing about this series is the way that the world of Krynn has evolved. In the "Chronicles" and "Legends" days, there were very few shades of gray. With the notable exception of Raistlin, the lines between hero and villain were clear. Now, in the aftermath of the Chaos War, the world's just a little bit grittier, and the lines of good and evil have blurred. In short, Krynn has become a lot more like our own world.

Mina herself is a perfect example. Deep down, the reader knows she's evil, but at times she seems almost kind and reasonable.

Even the adventurous kender Tasslehoff Burrfoot has undergone a tremendous change. The mischievous halfling that provided comic relief for the early books is more somber and reserved here. Though he exhibits the traditional kender characteristics, they're tempered with an edge of something never before seen in the race of halflings - fear.

The first book in the series, "Dragons of a Fallen Sun," suffered from an overabundance of information dumped on the reader in huge chunks. Thankfully, that happens rarely in "Dragons of a Lost Star." The book flows much smoother than its predecessor and sets up some interesting scenarios for the endgame.

It's tough to top the originals, and in the world of Dragonlance, the "Chronicles" and "Legends" series will probably never be surpassed for most fans. But "War of Souls" is shaping up to be the best thing to happen to Krynn since those early novels.

Review: "The Dreamthief's Daughter" by Michael Moorcock

Some of my earliest reading in the fantasy genre took me to the land of Melnibone and introduced me to a character that remains one of my favorites - Elric, the albino prince.

What initially drew me to Elric was how different he was from many of the fantasy heroes I'd read at the time. Like most, he was quick to action, fearless and handled his soul-sucking sword Stormbringer well. Unlike others, though, he was a sardonic, introspective and tormented personality - an outcast and a character that I could relate to more than the dashing swashbucklers of many fantasy tales.

As Michael Moorcock's series strayed away from Elric and into other incarnations of the Eternal Champion, I lost interest. It's been years since I visited the land of Melnibone, and to be honest, I didn't even know that Moorcock was still writing tales of the Eternal Champion. Then, "The Dreamthief's Daughter" (Warner Aspect) landed on my desk. I was thrilled by the prospect of a new tale of one of my favorite characters.

In this book, the first of three Elric novels Moorcock will write for Warner Aspect, the author brings together two incarnations of the Eternal Champion - Elric of Melnibone and Ulric von Bek.

In 1930s Germany, von Bek's cousin Gaynor is moving quickly through the Nazi ranks as he searches for the Holy Grail and the Black Sword, both believed to be in von Bek's possession. Gaynor has convinced the Nazi elite that these items will lead them to victory, and secretly believes they'll also further his own desires.

On other levels of the multiverse, Gaynor the Damned and his minions are also on the move.

In Germany, von Bek is persecuted and placed in a concentration camp for refusing to reveal the location of the sword. But with the help of Oona, Elric's lost daughter, von Bek escapes into the strange land of the Middlemarch.

At the same time, Gaynor, with the aid of the mad goddess Lady Miggea, tricks Elric and takes the black blade Stormbringer. He then turns his attention on the Middlemarch, where the Grail is hidden. With both of the items in possession of the Nazis, it will take everything that Elric, Ulric and Oona can muster to save the multiverse as they know it.

"The Dreamthief's Daughter" is a return to the classic sword and sorcery-style storytelling that marked the early Elric novels, but with a dash of the more philosophical underpinnings of the von Bek books.

At close to 350 pages, it's small by today's fantasy standards, but it seems monstrous compared to the slim Elric volumes I remember - books that were easily read in one sitting. Remembering those early tales, I feared there would be a good bit of padding. Fortunately, that wasn't the case. Moorcock's storytelling style is still concise and to the point - a rare thing in this age of fantasy novels that seem to wander all over the landscape without actually advancing the story.

Moorcock does get bogged down in philosophical debate about the Nazis a bit too much. It seems as though he's trying to convince the reader that the Nazis were wrong and that many of them were insane. I don't think that's something you have to convince many people of.

Overall, though, this book is a satisfying journey back into the realms of the Eternal Champion, and it has whetted my appetite for the tales of Elric that are yet to come.

While not as good as the first volumes in the Elric saga, this one certainly earns its place on the bookshelf next to them.

Review: "The Blade of Tyshalle" by Matthew Stover

If you think reality TV is out of control now, you should see what happens a hundred years or so from now. In Matthew Stover's "Blade of Tyshalle" (Del Rey), the Studios of Earth use the ultimate form of reality TV to help keep the 14 billion people crammed onto the planet in line.

A worldwide outbreak of a new, highly contagious form of rabies known as HRVP leaves the world in chaos. Out of this chaos rises a new caste system, and the Studios are at the forefront.

With the discovery of Overworld - a fantasy world where magic works and fantastic races live - the Studios have their answer to keeping themselves at the top of the heap. Actors from Earth are trained and sent to Overworld to become heroes or die for the entertainment of the masses.

Hari Michaelson was born Labor - the lowest caste - and the only way out is to become an Actor. With a little help from fellow student Kris Hansen, Michaelson not only becomes an Actor, but the most famous Actor of all time - the legendary Caine.

But Caine's reign ends with a severed spinal cord in his final feature, "For Love of Pallas Ril." Without the use of his legs, he's just Hari Michaelson again, an Administrator for one of the Studios.

He has everything he fought for. He lives with his wife Shanna - the Overworld river goddess Pallas Ril - and their daughter Faith. Still he wallows in self-pity and longs to return to Overworld, to play Caine one more time.

Then Hansen - now Deliann, the changeling prince of the elves - sends a message through an Actor that Michaelson has been following closely. HRVP has broken out in Overworld. That sends Caine back into action as he scrambles to save the world he loves.

But he uncovers a much more sinister plot. He gets his wish to go back to Overworld, to play Caine again, but it comes with a heavy price. He has a decision to make, and the future of Overworld hangs in the balance.

"Blade of Tyshalle" is a grim tale of Earth's future, made only darker by the eerie similarities it bears to our own world.

It's unsettling how easy it is to picture our world turning into the barren, polluted, overpopulated Earth of Hari Michaelson's day.

Stover heightens this sense of despair with incredible descriptions of the surroundings that engage all the senses. These are, for the most part, not pleasant sensations. It's not the idealized world of most fantasy - far from it.

But Stover bucks the trends of the genre at every turn. His protagonist Caine was once the ideal fantasy hero, a dashing rogue with incredible fighting skills and a treasure trove of good one-liners.

The Caine that's called to action in "Blade of Tyshalle," however, is a middle aged administrator, wounded in both body and spirit. But the other Caine still lives inside him. He only needs something to bring it out.

For most of the book Stover dances a fine line between philosophical expositions by the characters and action/adventure sequences. At times he falls a little too far one way or the other, but overall he manages to keep a good balance. The book is frenzied and fast-paced, but there's also a lot of substance to the story. That's a balance that's difficult to achieve.

"Blade of Tyshalle" is actually the second book in a series that started with "Heroes Die," which tells the story of Caine's younger days.

I wasn't aware of that when I started the book, but I didn't need to be. Stover delivers up my idea of the perfect series novel - one that can be read and enjoyed without any prior knowledge of the world or characters.

He offers just enough background information so the new reader won't be lost, and the story itself is engaging and stands alone rather than just being a continuation of what happened in the first book.

This book isn't for those with faint hearts or weak stomachs. It's gritty, dark and violent, much like its protagonist.

The truly disturbing thing about "Blade of Tyshalle," though, may be what it says about our society and the path we're on.

Review: "The Serpent's Shadow" by Mercedes Lackey

Mercedes Lackey is one of the most respected names in fantasy fiction, but she hasn't always been a favorite of mine. In fact, Lackey has always been hit-and-miss with me. Some of her stories have been grand tales with likeable characters and fabulous settings, while others have just seemed to fall flat, pale imitations of her better works.

Lackey's latest, "The Serpent's Shadow" (DAW), is a slight departure from her usual fare. The multi-layered tale is set in 19th-century London and deals with very real issues as well as fantastic ones.

Maya Witherspoon is the daughter of an English doctor and a Brahmin lady, who - following the mysterious deaths of her parents - has fled to London to pursue her own career as a physician. In London, she is subjected to a double-dose of prejudice because of her gender as well as her mixed Indian-English heritage.

Maya doesn't let the racism and sexism of the time bar her from pursuing her goals. Instead, she goes to the toughest doctor in London to seek her certification, so no one can doubt her credentials. But someone besides the medical community has taken an interest in her.

The elemental masters who control magic in England have taken notice of her strange magical wards, and send one of their own, Peter Scott, to investigate her. After meeting Maya, Peter is convinced that she has the ability to become an Earth Master, an area in which the white lodge is severely lacking. He tries to convince others in the lodge that Maya should be trained, but unfortunately, many of them hold the same prejudices.

Scott takes it upon himself and his "twin" in the lodge, Lord Peter Almsley, to train Maya as much as possible in her abilities. But now another threat has surfaced. A dark and mysterious magic has found its way into the city. Shivani, a follower of Kali, has unleashed the Shadow Serpent on an unsuspecting London both to seek revenge on the English and to settle some unfinished business with her niece, Maya.

"The Serpent's Shadow" is really three stories rolled into one.

First there's the mainstream story of Maya's struggles in the medical field, as she tries to break into a male-dominated profession and bring some much needed compassion to medicine. Maya treats patients that no one else will see and is often derided for her actions - such as trying to save limbs that others would amputate or attempting to remove an inflamed appendix from a woman who is seven months pregnant without harming the child. Along the way she makes enemies who could easily end her career.

Then there's the story of Maya's burgeoning magical ability and her relationship with Peter Scott who is trying to put her on the path to becoming an Earth Master. Here she faces some of the same challenges as in her medical career - men who don't want to see women as their equals. The difference here is that her enemies could end much more than her career.

Finally, there's Shivani, who is obsessed with vengeance on the English for their trespasses in India. Her dark arts are responsible for the death of Maya's parents, and she's followed Maya to London to finish the job. When the white lodge bungles its protections against Shivani's magic, it's up to Maya and Peter to deal with her. But Maya discovers she has some magical help of her own. The "pets" that she inherited from her mother are much more than they appear.

Each of the three stories would be intriguing on its own, but Lackey deftly weaves them into a complex and very satisfying novel. This easily ranks as one of her best efforts.

Review: "Tamsin" by Peter S. Beagle

There are good ghost stories, and then there are good stories that happen to have a ghost. In "Tamsin" (ROC), Peter S. Beagle has managed to give the reader a little bit of both.

The book begins with the tale of a 13-year-old girl, Jennifer Gluckstein, who is displaced from her home in New York after her mother marries an Englishman. She's moved into the English countryside, on a farm in Dorset. The first 100 pages of the book take an in-depth look at her adjustment to this new life and her obstinate refusal to be happy there. During this time, the ghosts are only hinted at, but the story line still manages to hook the reader.

Even when Tamsin Willoughby appears in the story, it still doesn't turn into the traditional sort of ghost story. Instead, we watch as Jenny and Tamsin develop a friendship, and Jenny tries to puzzle out the mystery of Tamsin's life.

Tamsin was the daughter of a farmer named Roger Willoughby who worked the farm during Judge George Jeffreys' Bloody Assizes in the wake of the Duke of Monmouth's Rebellion. Jeffreys took a liking to the girl and was infuriated when she didn't return his affections, instead bestowing them on a musician who played for her while a portrait was painted.

The final third of the book finally introduces the traditional angle, when Jeffreys arrives at the farm to claim what he thinks is rightfully his - Tamsin.

The historical aspect of the book fascinated me, sending me to the Internet to research Judge Jeffreys and the Bloody Assizes. What I found indicates that Beagle's portrayal of him is likely fairly accurate. Though sources offer conflicting reports of how many men Jeffreys hanged for treason - varying from less than 200 to almost 500 - all agree that he was known for his cruelty. The self-righteous apparition we see in "Tamsin" seems to be in line with that.

The book is written from the point of view of a 19-year-old Jenny Gluckstein, looking back at the happenings as she made the transition to life in the English countryside. It's written in a chatty, conversational style that makes it seem more like a diary. At first, I didn't like the approach, but as the story played out I found that it made it seem more real. The diary style gave me the impression that Jenny was a real person, telling a real story.

We can feel the fascination that Jenny felt as Tamsin introduced her to a whole new world, filled with wondrous creatures - mischievous boggarts seeking to make a deal with the new owners of the home; the shape-shifting Pooka who can never be trusted; the sage billy-blind that always offers the right advice at the wrong time; the mysterious Oakmen who lurk in the tangled forest; and, of course, the fury of the Wild Hunt which soars through the skies of the English countryside. The style of the story - told in real words that could actually belong to a 19-year-old - makes it easy to believe these things actually exist in our world, below our level of consciousness.

While "Tamsin" is a story of the supernatural, it's not a white-knuckled, edge-of-your-seat page-turner. Instead, it's more like a meandering stroll through a haunted wood that contains spirits both fair and foul. But that only serves to make the story more effective.

With "Tamsin," Beagle shows again why he is one of the premier storytellers in fantasy or any other genre.

Review: "Galveston" by Sean Stewart

When I first pulled Sean Stewart's "Galveston" (Ace) out of a box of books on my desk, several people around me looked at it strangely. They couldn't imagine what could be so fantastic about Galveston, Texas. Now, I can.

Galveston has been covered by floods and battered by hurricanes in its long history - but during Mardi Gras 2004, the island is covered by a flood of a different sort. Magic has been leaking into our world for years, but in 2004 it breaks through completely, throwing the city, and presumably the rest of the world, into chaos.

Years later there are two Galvestons competing for dominance. One is the non-magical Galveston, where a few Krewes, made up mostly of the rich, run the show. They still enjoy many of the luxuries they had before the flood. But the poor of Galveston - and those who are not members of a Krewe - live in squalor.

The other Galveston is the world of magic, a world that's been trapped in Mardi Gras since the flood. This Galveston has taken its toll on the people, too, transforming them, sometimes in horrific ways.

The gatekeeper between the two worlds is the Recluse, a witch who keeps magic confined to the Mardi Gras. She's tapped Sloane Gardner as her replacement. Unfortunately, the Grand Duchess, Sloane's mother, also wants her to carry on the Gardner tradition in the Krewe of Momus, and even the god Momus himself has his eye on her. Despite the power they would bring, Sloane wants none of these burdens.

Joshua Cane is an apothecary handing out primitive medicines that, in many cases, do next to nothing for the illnesses he's fighting. With most of the real medicine from before the flood gone or in the hands of the rich, he's frustrated as diseases that should be easily treatable claim lives. Once a member of a socialite family, Josh has fallen into disgrace after his father lost the family home in a poker game. He's dreamed of returning to the status his family once enjoyed, and he's also dreamed of Sloane Gardner.

When Sloane shows up in his office, injured and dazed after emerging for the Mardi Gras, Josh thinks his dreams have come true. But those dreams are about to turn into nightmares.

In "Galveston," Stewart blurs the line between fantasy and mainstream fiction. He provides an intriguing world, awash with magic, but at the same time the focus is on character. Even though magic is essential to the tale, and we see wondrous things around every corner, it doesn't distract from the real heart of the tale - Sloane and Josh coming to grips with their lives.

Both characters are discovering themselves, and not really liking what they find. Josh has helped a lot of people with his medicines, but he's cold and businesslike, not earning the respect or friendship of any of those people. He only begins to realize this when he's put on trial for Sloane's murder, and no one will stand for him. In fact, some of the people he's helped speak against him.

Sloane, on the other hand, has to face her own reluctance to accept responsibility. She would rather retreat into the Mardi Gras than face the fact that Galveston and her mother may need her. With the help of Joshua's father Ace and her Mardi Gras alter ego Sly, Sloane begins to learn more about playing the cards she's been dealt to her own advantage.

While "Galveston" has an interesting premise and is a wonderful read, it does have one weakness. The ending of the book left me with more questions than it answered. While there was some measure of resolution for the characters, it seemed that few of the other problems of the book had been resolved.

The setting of the novel left me wanting something more, as well. Stewart's rendering of Galveston was rich and fantastic, with some key details that put the reader on the spot. But it did lead me to wonder what the rest of the world was like following the flood of magic. We know that there are cannibals near Beaumont, and when Josh and Ham are exiled, we see that there are more pockets of magic like Galveston's own Mardi Gras. But what about the rest of the world?

Despite the lingering questions, "Galveston" was still a great read. It strikes a perfect balance between a magical fantasy world and the gritty realism following a natural disaster. I had never read Stewart before "Galveston," but I've got a feeling I'll be delving into some of his past work in the near future.

Review: "Fire Bringer" by David Clement-Davies

Anthropomorphic tales are a tried and true standard in fantasy fiction. From Richard Adams' "Watership Down" to E.B. White's "Charlotte's Web" to numerous Disney productions, these tales of animals that talk think and act like humans have entertained both children and adults.

In "Fire Bringer" (Dutton), David Clement-Davies tries to put his own twist on the anthropomorphic tale by personifying the deer of historic Scotland. The famous Disney production is the only time I've ever seen deer portrayed anthropomorphically - and this tale is certainly not "Bambi."

A newcomer to the herd, the antlerless buck Sgorr, manages to gain the trust of Drail, the Lord of the Herd. He has convinced Drail to do away with many of the traditions and the Lore of the deer's god Herne. Sgorr has also brought violence to the herd, teaching the young bucks to sharpen their antlers to maim and even kill in the rite of Anlach, the rut. Then, in one bloody night, the schemes of Sgorr and Drail come to fruition and the herd falls completely under their control. Other herds follow as the pair turns its attention to domination.

But during that violent night, a special fawn is born, bearing a white, oak leaf-shaped mark on his head, a mark named in prophecy. When the fawn's father is killed by Sgorr and Drail, Rannoch's mother trades him with another doe whose calf was stillborn to protect the fawn. Rannoch and his adopted mother live in peace for a while with the herd, but during a run in with some yearlings loyal to Sgorr, Rannoch's mark is revealed. Drail, fearing the prophecy, orders him killed, and Rannoch is forced to flee.

With several of his friends who were also threatened, he travels across the land of Scotia, trying to avoid Sgorr's assassins and the many other dangers of the wild - including man. All the while, Rannoch marches ever closer to fulfilling the prophecy.

The first challenge of anthropomorphic fiction is the suspension of disbelief. A writer has to engage the reader and make the reader accept that these animals are talking and acting much like humans. Clement-Davies does this masterfully. Although I was a bit skeptical at first, I came to know the characters and fell right into the story.

Oddly, the problem I had with the book had nothing to do with believing in talking deer. Instead, it was the info dump in the early part of the book. There is a ton of background information on deer stacked up at the beginning, and I was wondering if there was going to be a story. This problem returns at several key points in the novel, with some asides that are meant to make the story sound as if it's being told by a storyteller years later. Instead, they disrupt the spell the story is weaving around the reader.

Fortunately, the story itself is so good that these are only a minor annoyance. After the first few pages, I wasn't sure if I wanted to continue, but by the time the old storyteller Blindweed had finished reciting the prophecy to a group of fawns, I was hooked. I spent much of the rest of the book spellbound, hanging on every word.

It's one of the oldest stories known to man: A child of prophecy flees a ruler who fears that prophecy, and on his journey, he grows and learns enough to return and try to set things right. Still, in "Fire Bringer," Clement-Davies has managed to make the old tale riveting.

Clement-Davies shows the ability to take readers on a roller-coaster ride of emotion. He makes you feel revulsion at the insane acts of Sgorr, the hopelessness of those under his rule and the fear and uncertainty of his friends when Rannoch has his moments of doubt and denial. That's balanced in equal parts with feelings of triumph, joy and love when things are going right for Rannoch and his friends.

These days, few books are making it to the bookcase I reserve for those that mean a little more, but this one has earned a spot there. In short, "Fire Bringer" has everything that makes a classic tale for young and old alike.

Review: "Fool Moon" by Jim Butcher

A burgeoning subgenre in the fantasy and horror fields is the supernatural detective novel. Fantastic creatures roam our own world and some of them are not so nice. So who do you call when a magician, vampire or werewolf commits a murder? Well, if it happens in Chicago, you call Harry Dresden, wizard-for-hire.

In "Fool Moon" (ROC), his sophomore effort, Jim Butcher establishes himself among the elite of the supernatural detective subgenre, alongside the pioneers of the field like Laurell K. Hamilton.

Butcher's vision is slightly different from Hamilton's, though. In Hamilton's worlds, creatures like vampires and fairies roam the world freely, granted equal rights by the Supreme Court. Butcher's world is much like our own, and most people would scoff at the mention of magic or werewolves.

Karrin Murphy, head of Chicago's special investigations unit, isn't one of those people. She's seen Dresden in action and worked closely with him. But business has been slow for Dresden since his last cooperative effort with Murphy went bad. He's been lambasted in the press as a charlatan, and Murphy is under an internal affairs investigation for her dealings with him. But when a string of grisly murders occurs around the full moon for two months in a row, Murphy has no choice but to call Dresden in on the case.

With murders around the full moon, bloody pawprints at the scene of the crime, strange bite marks on the victims and a woman who is not human trailing the private eye, it at first seems like a clear-cut case for Dresden. All he has to do is find some evidence to use against the werewolf. But when a cursed man, a group of magical shapeshifters that call themselves the Alphas, a group of people who use magic belts to transform into wolves and a street gang of lycanthropes - people who think they are werewolves - get involved, things get a little more complicated.

The result is an action-packed ride that doesn't let up, as everyone - even Murphy - sets their sights on Dresden.

There's something refreshing about a wizard who chants a spell to the tune of the Peanuts theme song while using a stuffed Snoopy doll to bind a werewolf. Or one who hums bits of "Carmen" while confronting a group of lycanthropes that's likely about to rip him apart. Dresden does both and more in "Fool Moon," while at the same time trading some very unwizardly comic book-style banter with his adversaries.

Unlike most wizards, who take themselves far too seriously, Dresden comes off as more of a regular guy who just happens to have some magical powers. Not only do these things provide a little levity in some tense situations, they also offer a base in reality for readers who are not normally fans of fantasy and horror.

I was a bit disappointed with the tidy, Scooby-Doo style wrap up at the end. There were several interesting problems created during the course of the book - like how the police would deal with a cursed shapeshifter who has committed several vicious murders, but has no control over it. Butcher takes the easy way out on a lot of those problems and ties things up just a bit too neatly.

Still, it doesn't detract much from the book as a whole, which is an entertaining read. With "Fool Moon," Butcher strikes a perfect balance between fantasy, horror and mystery - giving the reader the best of all three worlds.

Review: "The Truth" by Terry Pratchett

"The truth shall make ye fret."

Misprint or not, a lot of people in the city of Ankh-Morpork are learning that statement is accurate. In Terry Pratchett's "The Truth" (HarperCollins), the Discworld's largest city has gotten its first newspaper, and it's shaking things up.

William de Worde writes a newsletter for a few select clients when he runs into - or rather, is run over by - a group of dwarves who claim they have discovered how to turn lead into gold. They're not lying. They've invented moveable type, and de Worde's life is about to change.

Meanwhile, the Patrician has been imprisoned for murder, but de Worde doesn't think the facts add up. So, he embarks on the Discworld's first investigative report. Along the way, de Worde has to tangle with a competing tabloid-style publication, a couple of very unique professional hit men, the city watch and even his own father.

"The Truth" is Pratchett's 25th foray into the Discworld and goes a long way toward re-establishing his status as the king of comic fantasy.

After a number of disappointing and unfunny books like "Jingo" and "The Last Continent," Pratchett's last two offerings - "The Fifth Elephant" and "The Truth" - have re-invigorated the series with the same satire and sharp parody that his devoted readers have come to expect.

A former journalist, Pratchett has a remarkable grasp of how the newspaper business really works, and he uses that to great comic effect in "The Truth." Fantasy or not, the book does paint a fairly accurate portrait of the day-to-day life of a journalist.

This book also offers something the Discworld has needed for the past few years - new faces. Long-time fans may be disappointed in the change, preferring to read more tales about old friends like Rincewind the Wizzard, Granny Weatherwax and Sam Vimes and the city watch. But, despite recent successes featuring Sam Vimes ("The Fifth Elephant") and Granny Weatherwax ("Carpe Jugulum"), it seems these characters may be running out of stories.

While favorite characters from past Discworld novels - like Vimes, Cut-Me-Own-Throat Dibbler, Foul Ole Ron, Gaspode the Talking Dog and, of course, Death - do pop up in "The Truth," the spotlight is on new characters. And some of them are quite entertaining.

De Worde, the son of a rich Ankh-Morpork socialite, wants to prove that he's different from his father, but instead finds out he's more like his family than he'd like to admit.

Otto Chriek, a vampire photographer, reduces himself to a pile of ash every time he takes a flash photo.

But most interesting are the two hitmen, Mr. Pin and Mr. Tulip. Mr. Pin is the brains of the operation, and the more intriguing Mr. Tulip supplies the muscle. Tulip is a brutish, foul-mouthed thug with a very fortunate speech impediment and a surprisingly keen eye for art. Unfortunately, the ending of this book seems a bit final for this pair, but as long-time Pratchett fans will attest, anything is possible on the Discworld. What else would you expect on a disc-shaped world perched on the back of four elephants who fly through space on the shell of a giant turtle?

As always, there are a number of inside jokes that only regular readers of the Discworld books will fully appreciate, but unlike most series, no prior knowledge is required. "The Truth," like all of Pratchett's books, can be enjoyed by newcomers to the Discworld as well as well as regular visitors.

"The Truth" is the best entry in the Discworld series in years, rivalling Pratchett's early works like "Sourcery," "Reaper Man" and "Equal Rites." It's nice to see Pratchett back at the top of his game, and it's nice to know there are more good things to come on the Discworld.

Review: "Servant of the Shard" by R.A. Salvatore

Shortly after discovering the fantasy genre in junior high, I turned my attention to the shared worlds of what was then TSR. I was an avid Dungeons and Dragons player - and it seemed only natural to dip into the fiction set in those worlds.

Over the years I drifted away from those worlds and their stories, losing interest as the first generation of writers and characters were retired. Still, every now and then a book by one of the writers or about one of the characters I really liked during those years pops up.

When that happens, I just can't resist picking it up.

In "Servant of the Shard" (Wizards of the Coast), R.A. Salvatore again turns his attention away from his scimitar-wielding dark elven hero Drizzt Do'Urden. Instead he focuses on two of the most intriguing villains of the series, the assassin Artemis Entreri and the drow Jarlaxle, leader of the mercenary band Bregan D'aerthe.

The pair have formed an alliance to move Bregan D'aerthe's interests to the surface world, but there are obstacles. Jarlaxle now possesses the crystal shard Crenshinibon, and it has plans for greater conquests.

Its influence over Jarlaxle also leads to dissension among the ranks of Bregan D'aerthe, as two of his most powerful lieutenants plot an overthrow.

Salvatore began this series in the late 1980s with the rousing adventure of the Icewind Dale Trilogy, which introduced us to most of the major players. He continued with the more somber and introspective Dark Elf Trilogy, that provided insight into the character of Drizzt.

After that, the series began to grow stale. The same plot line was repeated several times: One of the drow royal houses, seeking favor with the Spider Queen, attempts to kill or capture Drizzt and is soundly thrashed by the heroic ranger and his companions.

But with the last couple of offerings, Salvatore has shifted directions for the better.

One of the best aspects of this book is the development we see in the characters, most notably Entreri. When we first met the assassin in the Icewind Dale Trilogy, he was a brash 20-year-old with only one goal - to prove that he was the best swordsman in the world.

That meant engaging Drizzt in combat and slaying him.

As "Servant of the Shard" opens, we see a much different character. While his mind is sharper than ever, a middle-aged Entreri is facing the fact that he's lost a step and the inevitable time when younger assassins will seek to add a notch to their belts by killing the famous Entreri.

Through the course of this novel, Entreri is brought face-to-face time and again with the conclusion that he has been working toward.

By the end of the book he's questioning the choices of his life, but in a way that's uniquely Entreri.

Jarlaxle has always been confident and calculating. He's quick witted, agile and prepared for almost anything that can be thrown at him.

The mercenary leader is one of the few males to hold any power in the matriarchal drow city of Menzoberanzan. That changes when he takes possession of Crenshinibon.

The artifact begins to control the usually wily mercenary through subtle manipulation. When Jarlaxle is forced to face the fact that he's been duped, he gets a new outlook.

This book is also unique in that both primary characters are "bad guys." Still, they are intriguing characters and Salvatore manages to create sympathy for even a couple of cold-hearted killers.

"Servant of the Shard" also pulls in a couple of characters we haven't heard from in a while: the priest Cadderly and his wife, the fighting monk Danica.

It was interesting to see the changes that have come about in the years since Salvatore's Cleric Quintet.

Of course, it wouldn't be a Salvatore book if there weren't a few intense fight scenes. Salvatore does combat better than any other writer out there, and there are plenty of intricate battles in this volume.

The descriptions put you right in the middle of the action - so close that if you're not careful you could get cut.

Salvatore has expressed an interest in checking on Drizzt and his companions in the next volume. That would please fans who have complained about the dark elf's small role in the last two books.

But for some, the change in direction has brought a new outlook to the Dark Elf series, and those will likely think this is the best offering in quite a while.

"Servant of the Shard" is a refreshing departure for the series, breathing new life back into a tale that was growing stale.

Review: "God, Guns & Rock 'n' Roll" by Ted Nugent

The title and the cover of Ted Nugent's new book tells the reader just about all he needs to know when deciding whether or not to pick it up.

The jacket of "God, Guns & Rock `n' Roll" (Regnery) features Nugent with his Gibson Byrdland slung around his waist, a double-barreled over-and-under shotgun on his shoulder and an American flag in the background. The message is clear: anti-hunters, anti-gunners and anti-rock `n' rollers need not apply.

If the cover doesn't convey that message, then the first few pages will. Nugent loads up the automatic and blasts away at gun control advocates, media portrayal of guns and gun owners, animal rights groups and anything else that gets in his way.

Ted shoots straight and speaks his mind. That may be a little hard to stomach for those that disagree with his views, but for those who do agree with his opinions, it's a refreshing blast. Don't expect any political correctness, double talk or backing down. As Aerosmith guitarist Joe Perry says on the back cover, whether you agree or disagree with him, you know exactly where you stand with Uncle Nuge.

His strong opinions and no compromise attitude have always drawn the ire of his mostly liberal counterparts in the entertainment industry and have even alienated a few of his fellow sportsmen. Ted doesn't care. In response to the fellow hunters and shooters who disapprove of his methods, he compares it to someone rescuing a drowning child and then having the parents throw him back in because they didn't like the way the rescuer swam.

If you pick up "God, Guns & Rock `n' Roll," you'll soon find out that Nugent's highly-publicized views on hunting and the Second Amendment are not the only things he has very strong opinions about. Even the most avid gun control advocate or anti-hunter couldn't disagree with his views on drugs and alcohol. A spokesman for Mothers Against Drunk Driving and an officer in the DARE program, Nugent takes pride in the fact that he has never indulged in drugs and alcohol.

Nugent credits hunting for filling a void that he says others try to fill with drugs and alcohol. He points to a long list of talented entertainers - Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Jim Morrison, Keith Moon, John Belushi, Bon Scott and others - who have died as a result of drug and alcohol abuse. "They got high, and they're all dead. I went hunting, and I'm still Ted," Nugent writes.

Nugent also has some intriguing thoughts on gun safety. Since the gun has been glorified in television, movies and even music for so long, he reasons there's no way you can keep a child from being fascinated by firearms. The logical approach, according to Ted, is to teach them as much as you can about guns - especially about gun safety.

But once you get past Nugent's activism, you find the real beauty of this book. For a guy who is "just a guitar player," Nugent has the uncanny ability to put the reader next to him on the hunting trail. His vivid descriptions allow the reader to see, hear and smell the same things Nugent does in the woods.

The scenes are ones that will connect deeply with those who enjoy the outdoors. Every hunter will recognize the heart-thumping, pulse-pounding close encounter with his quarry; or the absurdity of laying flat on your back in the mud, one boot-top still sticking out of the muck, but laughing like a madman because you're happy to be alive in the woods; or the keen sense of pride a father feels in a child's display of skills.

Nugent closes with a few stories of his friend and mentor Fred Bear. He tells of how he had to convince Bear that all rock `n' rollers were not "drug-infested anti-hunters," and how the death of Bear inspired the most powerful song Nugent has ever written, the haunting "Fred Bear."

Sandwiched in the middle of the book is a collection of photos, illustrating Nugent's everyday life. It includes numerous photos of his family, a few on-stage photos and a few hunting photos. It also shows him rubbing elbows with everyone from fellow rock `n' rollers to conservative leaders.

If you're a member of PETA or Handgun Control, Inc., you'll probably want to give this book a pass. On the other hand, if you believe in the Second Amendment, the Spirit of the Wild and the power of rock `n' roll, then crank up "Stranglehold" on the stereo, sit back and prepare for some full bluntal Nugety.

Review: "Graven Images" edited by Nancy Kilpatrick and Thomas S. Roche

Since the beginning of time, people have made statues, carvings and other images to represent whatever gods held sway in their civilization. Many of these have been swept away by the tides of time and change, but some are still with us.

In "Graven Images: Fifteen Tales of Magic and Myth" (Ace), editors Nancy Kilpatrick and Thomas S. Roche pull together stories that deal with representations of deities of past and present. Beginning with ancient Greece, Egypt and India the stories progress chronologically through modern times.

The book brings together some established fantasy and horror writers like Robert Silverberg, Tanith Lee, Jack Ketchum, Esther Friesner and Lawrence Watt-Evans, with some lesser-known names like Lois Tilton, Kathe Koja and Kathryn Ptacek. Some stories stick entirely with the theme, while others hang on by a tenuous thread, making for an interesting variety.

One of the best stories in the book has little, if anything at all, to do with deities. Lawrence Watt-Evans' "Heart of Stone" tells the story of a woman trapped in a wall of a wizard's home. When the wizard is killed by superstitious townspeople, she spends a great deal of time alone, before a con artist happens upon the ruins of the house and tries to use her for his own gain. He soon finds that the townspeople he's trying to fleece still harbor their ill will toward magic and its practitioners.

There are a number of other very intriguing tales in the collection. Lois Tilton's "The Goddess Danced" tells the tale of a young girl horribly scarred by an attack from a local bully and cast off by her family to the only people that will take her -- a family of beggars. After years of abuse from her husband's family, the girl develops a bond with the goddess Kali.

In "Shaped Stones" by Nina Kiriki Hoffman, a family of orphans in the Great Depression is taken in by a wealthy magician who has designs for one of the orphans who possesses a magical gift. "Mud" becomes a mortal enemy in Brian McNaughton's World War I tale. And in Chelsea Quinn Yarbro's "Giotto's Window," a man begins to see monstrous visions of other people and his doctor is not sure he's insane.

The only low point of the book comes from veteran Gene Wolfe. His "The Eleventh City" has an intriguing idea based on a story from the fifth chapter of Mark, but it's written as a memo between a university researcher and his superior. Unfortunately it also reads like a memo, with no emotion and nothing to hook the reader.

The other 14 tales in the book more than make up for the one slow point near the middle. The book ends with a bang as three powerful tales are stacked up back-to-back. Jack Ketchum and Edward Lee's disturbing "Masks" plumbs the darker side of human nature, and what some are capable of when their faces are hidden. Kathe Koja's "At Eventide" looks at a woman given an incredible power and an opportunity to repay the attacker that gave her this "gift." Finally, Tanith Lee's "That Glisters Is" offers a dream-like view of "the other side."

In the introduction, the editors set some lofty goals for the book. They promise tales that will offer some insight into spirituality. Many of the tales in the book succeed in doing that. What the editors have truly succeeded at, though, is bringing together a collection of interesting and intriguing tales that take a look at the past, and in a few cases, perhaps even the future.