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There's a fine line between "tried and true" and "overplayed." The Hero, by Teiran, skirts this line for most of its story, occasionally dipping more firmly into one category or the other before returning back to the more nebulous state in between, where it's more difficult to tell one from the other.

Set in a world very clearly inspired by Dungeons & Dragons (the author himself even cites as much in his opening notes and devotes the story, in part, to Gary Gygax), the fantasy tropes of the books setting won't be shocking or new to anyone familiar with the game, or indeed, anyone who's read much high fantasy. While this isn't inherently a bad thing—spending less time on fleshing out the setting could mean more time on fleshing out the characters and plot—unfortunately, the room and the opporunity that the author left himself to do something more unique go underutilized. Even the fact that the characters are 'furries' plays little, if any, part in either the story or the way that events play out, being more just a cosmetic veneer than anything else.

The story itself is simple enough: a young hyena named Flint, a lowly servant to a cruel innkeeper, falls in love with traveling wolf adventurer Aldain, a Knight of the Cross (think D&D paladin). Due to religious doctrine, male/male relationships are forbidden, but Flint and Aldain quickly end up having sex anyway, which kicks off the plot proper: Aldain must uphold his knightly duties and his faith, and the naive young Flint traipses along after him anyway, without seeing or realizing what the problem is with a man loving another man.

One big problem with Flint's character, though, is that it's stressed—rather repeatedly—that he's nineteen years old, when he clearly demonstrates the emotional maturity (and intellectual capacity) of a twelve- or thirteen-year-old. Were this the case, the story and the character would make a lot more sense, but as it is, especially given the vehemence with which it's stressed that Flint is, in fact, ninteen, it really feels like the author was trying a bit too hard to wash over any implications of underage sex. In a medieval setting, someone who's ninteen years old should be, for all intents and purposes, an adult, but Flint is so markedly oblivious to things like sex, social mores, and even his own land's cultural values and practices, that it's hard to believe his character (and, subsequently, his emotional responsibility to the story).


The other strange thing about Flint's character is that, despite the fact that his sole motivation in the story is to get back together with Aldain, he paradoxically sleeps with all of Aldain's friends in the process. While this is an erotic novel at its core, and it makes sense to spice up the sex scenes by making use of different characters, it feels kind of awkward and forced, especially given Flint's naïvely vulnerable nature. At one point, one of the other characters actually points out that it's weirdly unusual how the group of them all have this inexorable pull to want to lovingly protect (and sleep with) Flint, which had me hoping that it would turn out to be some kind of supernatural draw on the hyena's part; in the end, though, it just turns out that he's young and doable, which feels like a missed opportunity to do something more interesting with the motivations of the other characters (especially since one of the characters who ends up having sex with him nearly right after meeting him admits to having held no prior inclination towards males).

For a simple story (even the Bad Dog Books website claims that the book doesn't try to be "clever or unique"), there are times when the book tries to introduce more detailed subplots, but these never take off the ground. There are hints at political strife and behind-the-scenes plotting amongst religious higher-ups, which begin to show promise of something deeper, but they never really go anywhere, and the focus of the story remains on Flint's quest for Aldain's love. The church is quite vehement about its anti-gay stance, and yet aside from the clergy themselves, none of the other characters seem to regard homosexuality as being the least bit abhorrent or even unusual, despite the fact that the church is shown to have a pervasive influence in this land. There's the potential for a lot of intense sociopolitical drama and inner conflict for the characters, but it never really blossoms, since the love that Flint and Aldain share is shown to be nothing but this pure and beautiful thing from beginning to end.

The author also notes that the story was originally a shorter piece written for an anthology, but after being rejected, it was suggested as a candidate for a novel, with one of the criteria being that the length be doubled. Unfortunately, the result is that the plot itself isn't quite heavy enough to support a full book. Things like foreshadowing and long-term setup, which are essential for a proper, novel-length work, are missing, and there are several important plot points in the third act that come (sometimes literally) out of nowhere. It really does feel like this would have been better left as a novella or even just a short story.

To its credit, the book does still manage to incorporate erotic elements into the plot in a way that makes sense (even if Flint's naïveté sometimes doesn't). With the exception of the first sex scene (which goes on for 18 pages, in which the characters have sex three times), the sex never goes on for so long that it derails the story, and it never comes out of nowhere. It would help if the plot segments in between the erotic scenes carried more detail for the story, but on its own merits, at least the sex is what it is.

Lastly, one major thing that this book could have used was a serious editing pass, as it looks like the manuscript didn't quite get one. There are plentiful mistakes with comma use, dialogue attribution, and homophonic typos (and there's one embarrassing section that takes place in a desert, where roughly half the time, the word is given as 'dessert'). Combined with frequently awkward paragraph structure (possibly a result of needing to 'pad' the story to novel length), this reinforces the feeling that it may have been a bad idea to try to force what might have been a cute, tightly-woven story into a longer, book-length work.

All in all, The Hero does ultimately succeed at being a cute little love story with some erotic elements thrown in, but it perhaps tries a bit too hard to be a novel when it really could have been happy as a short story.

(cross-posted from my writing blog)



Disclaimer: Kevin is a friend of mine and I edited "Thousand Leaves" for Sofawolf, so I am admittedly somewhat biased. :) I read it a while ago, but because it's just been released, I can post this.

Furry fiction lends itself to one of two main types of story: one in which the characters cannot stop obsessing over their "furriness" (whether good or bad), and one in which the furriness barely plays a role. It's rare to find a world that is so internally consistent that the ramifications of a society composed of so many different species are apparent to the reader, but completely ordinary to the characters. It's even rarer to find a good story set in such a world.

The world of "Thousand Leaves" is a multi-species community, at a level of technology roughly contemporary to ours. The city itself is a marvel of architecture and class distinction, with three levels separated from each other physically as well as by class. Reeve, one of the heroes of the book, has just come off a relationship that propelled him into the higher class briefly. He misses both the higher class and the relationship, but more importantly, he's starting to feel that something is wrong with him. His ex, who has taken up with a new boyfriend, misinterprets Reeve's attempts to warn him, even when some of their other upper-class friends start to get sick. Reeve has to turn to their mutual friend Monique and, in a strange turn of events, his ex's new boyfriend, to get to the bottom of the disease.

To tell more about the plot would be to ruin the excitement of what is a tautly constructed thriller. The early part of the book starts slowly, introducing you to the ensemble cast and the spiderweb of relationships that connect them, while laying the groundwork for the medical thriller to come. Think of it as the clack-clack-clack of the roller coaster mounting the hill. Once you crest the hill--and you'll know just where that is--the book doesn't let you go.

Kevin has a terrific touch with character, which allows him to pull off the very tricky feat of having an ensemble cast with character arcs of their own. Each of the personalities in the book is distinct and well-realized, with marvelous dialogue between them. The real joy of "Thousand Leaves" is getting to know the characters, and that's what gives an extra dimension to the medical thriller: you've come to truly care about the characters whose lives are at stake. That's not to short-change his ability to describe the city or the pathos he plunges his cast into, nor the complex plot he has his characters navigate, nor the textured feeling of the world they live in. But the characters are the heart of this book, and a vibrant, engaging heart it is.

I don't usually review Sofawolf books because I'm so intimately involved in the selection, edition, and production. And of course I'm going to say good things about our titles. But I'm particularly proud of having been a part of the release of "Thousand Leaves," not only because it's good for Kevin and good for Sofawolf, but because it's such a great story and exemplar of what we look for in a furry novel. So take my review with a grain of salt, but give "Thousand Leaves" the benefit of the doubt. We wouldn't be printing it if it weren't a great book.

(cross-posted from my writing blog)



Disclaimer: Kevin is a friend of mine and I edited "Thousand Leaves" for Sofawolf, so I am admittedly somewhat biased. :) I read it a while ago, but because it's just been released, I can post this.

Furry fiction lends itself to one of two main types of story: one in which the characters cannot stop obsessing over their "furriness" (whether good or bad), and one in which the furriness barely plays a role. It's rare to find a world that is so internally consistent that the ramifications of a society composed of so many different species are apparent to the reader, but completely ordinary to the characters. It's even rarer to find a good story set in such a world.

The world of "Thousand Leaves" is a multi-species community, at a level of technology roughly contemporary to ours. The city itself is a marvel of architecture and class distinction, with three levels separated from each other physically as well as by class. Reeve, one of the heroes of the book, has just come off a relationship that propelled him into the higher class briefly. He misses both the higher class and the relationship, but more importantly, he's starting to feel that something is wrong with him. His ex, who has taken up with a new boyfriend, misinterprets Reeve's attempts to warn him, even when some of their other upper-class friends start to get sick. Reeve has to turn to their mutual friend Monique and, in a strange turn of events, his ex's new boyfriend, to get to the bottom of the disease.

To tell more about the plot would be to ruin the excitement of what is a tautly constructed thriller. The early part of the book starts slowly, introducing you to the ensemble cast and the spiderweb of relationships that connect them, while laying the groundwork for the medical thriller to come. Think of it as the clack-clack-clack of the roller coaster mounting the hill. Once you crest the hill--and you'll know just where that is--the book doesn't let you go.

Kevin has a terrific touch with character, which allows him to pull off the very tricky feat of having an ensemble cast with character arcs of their own. Each of the personalities in the book is distinct and well-realized, with marvelous dialogue between them. The real joy of "Thousand Leaves" is getting to know the characters, and that's what gives an extra dimension to the medical thriller: you've come to truly care about the characters whose lives are at stake. That's not to short-change his ability to describe the city or the pathos he plunges his cast into, nor the complex plot he has his characters navigate, nor the textured feeling of the world they live in. But the characters are the heart of this book, and a vibrant, engaging heart it is.

I don't usually review Sofawolf books because I'm so intimately involved in the selection, edition, and production. And of course I'm going to say good things about our titles. But I'm particularly proud of having been a part of the release of "Thousand Leaves," not only because it's good for Kevin and good for Sofawolf, but because it's such a great story and exemplar of what we look for in a furry novel. So take my review with a grain of salt, but give "Thousand Leaves" the benefit of the doubt. We wouldn't be printing it if it weren't a great book.

Dream-Carver is the third novel based on Sanguine Productions' pen-and-paper RPG system Ironclaw. For those unfamiliar with the setting, the world of Ironclaw is one populated by anthropomorphic animals, loosely based on Age of Enlightenment Europe, with a hefty dose of magic thrown in to keep things tricky. Unlike, say, D&D, where the conceit is a high-fantasy world, Ironclaw very much stresses things like social conflict, class interaction, and a world where a nobleman might well be more fearsome than a powerful wizard.

In this regard, Dream-Carver is quite successful in capturing the flair of the world and applying it to a story that's quite different from the previous two novels set there (Scars and Black Iron). The central character is Sister Annarisse, an equine priestess who also happens to be of minor noble stock as well. The story does a great job of highlighting just how much authority one person can have when both a member of the clergy and a member of a noble house. Most of this is shown in her interactions with the other two main characters, the vulpine Captain Salvatore (a commoner) and the rather brash Baron Treeden, son of a very powerful wolf noblewoman.

Most of the book takes place with the characters aboard a sailing vessel, which serves as a nice device to keep the characters in contact with one another, especially when their personalities might otherwise cause them to part ways rather swiftly (van Hiel does a great job of letting all of these larger-than-life personages abrade on each other with all the hauteur one would expect of three people who are all used to getting their own way in their respective avenues of life). On the other hand, this means that a good portion of the book is also dedicated to describing the ins and outs of a naval voyage, which will be a good thing if you're interested in that sort of thing, but which could probably be boring and tedious for those who are not.

Description is one area that van Hiel does quite a good job with, both when it comes to aspects of naval history as well as both the romantic and not-so-romantic aspects of the pre-industrial world. In an odd departure from a lot of books featuring animal-people characters, there's markedly less description for the characters themselves; perhaps there's an assumption that the reader will be familiar with what sort of two-legged critters they should be imagining, and it doesn't stand out that much, but it's worth noting. At any rate, as mentioned above, the characters' personalities are well-defined, which is more important than physical appearance, anyway.

The story itself is quite brisk; individual chapters are usually only around 3 to 5 pages long, with each chapter containing at least one point that moves the story forward. Were it not for the subject matter (there are subplots concerning alcoholism, crises of faith, and the ethics of slavery), it's almost structured like the sort of story you'd read a little bit at a time to a child before putting them to bed. As it is, for us grown-up readers, the pacing is nice and fast and the story itself doesn't ever 'drag,' despite the occasional brief stop to describe something in detail.

One complaint is that there are times when it's a bit too obvious that the story is based on a role-playing game setting. New characters join the voyage with little to no preamble, at points, and while they do all eventually find their purpose within the story itself, the method of introduction sometimes feels like, "and then the GM needed to bring this character into things." Similarly, there are one or two minor characters who just kind of drop out of the story without mention once their core purpose has been served. Considering the fast pace of the book, this is more forgivable than it otherwise might be, and if one were unaware of the setting's origins, it might almost go unnoticed.

All in all, this is a well-rendered book that fans of Ironclaw should definitely appreciate, and for those who aren't familiar with that setting, they should enjoy a look at a "furry fantasy world" that isn't too typical of the ones normally portrayed in fantasy novels. The climax and denouement are a bit too rushed, but as is probably appropriate for a story about a naval voyage, it's the journey that's important, and overall, the story itself doesn't disappoint.

Recommended For: fans of 'Ironclaw', low fantasy, and aficionados of naval history

Dream-Carver is the third novel based on Sanguine Productions' pen-and-paper RPG system Ironclaw. For those unfamiliar with the setting, the world of Ironclaw is one populated by anthropomorphic animals, loosely based on Age of Enlightenment Europe, with a hefty dose of magic thrown in to keep things tricky. Unlike, say, D&D, where the conceit is a high-fantasy world, Ironclaw very much stresses things like social conflict, class interaction, and a world where a nobleman might well be more fearsome than a powerful wizard.

In this regard, Dream-Carver is quite successful in capturing the flair of the world and applying it to a story that's quite different from the previous two novels set there (Scars and Black Iron). The central character is Sister Annarisse, an equine priestess who also happens to be of minor noble stock as well. The story does a great job of highlighting just how much authority one person can have when both a member of the clergy and a member of a noble house. Most of this is shown in her interactions with the other two main characters, the vulpine Captain Salvatore (a commoner) and the rather brash Baron Treeden, son of a very powerful wolf noblewoman.

Most of the book takes place with the characters aboard a sailing vessel, which serves as a nice device to keep the characters in contact with one another, especially when their personalities might otherwise cause them to part ways rather swiftly (van Hiel does a great job of letting all of these larger-than-life personages abrade on each other with all the hauteur one would expect of three people who are all used to getting their own way in their respective avenues of life). On the other hand, this means that a good portion of the book is also dedicated to describing the ins and outs of a naval voyage, which will be a good thing if you're interested in that sort of thing, but which could probably be boring and tedious for those who are not.

Description is one area that van Hiel does quite a good job with, both when it comes to aspects of naval history as well as both the romantic and not-so-romantic aspects of the pre-industrial world. In an odd departure from a lot of books featuring animal-people characters, there's markedly less description for the characters themselves; perhaps there's an assumption that the reader will be familiar with what sort of two-legged critters they should be imagining, and it doesn't stand out that much, but it's worth noting. At any rate, as mentioned above, the characters' personalities are well-defined, which is more important than physical appearance, anyway.

The story itself is quite brisk; individual chapters are usually only around 3 to 5 pages long, with each chapter containing at least one point that moves the story forward. Were it not for the subject matter (there are subplots concerning alcoholism, crises of faith, and the ethics of slavery), it's almost structured like the sort of story you'd read a little bit at a time to a child before putting them to bed. As it is, for us grown-up readers, the pacing is nice and fast and the story itself doesn't ever 'drag,' despite the occasional brief stop to describe something in detail.

One complaint is that there are times when it's a bit too obvious that the story is based on a role-playing game setting. New characters join the voyage with little to no preamble, at points, and while they do all eventually find their purpose within the story itself, the method of introduction sometimes feels like, "and then the GM needed to bring this character into things." Similarly, there are one or two minor characters who just kind of drop out of the story without mention once their core purpose has been served. Considering the fast pace of the book, this is more forgivable than it otherwise might be, and if one were unaware of the setting's origins, it might almost go unnoticed.

All in all, this is a well-rendered book that fans of Ironclaw should definitely appreciate, and for those who aren't familiar with that setting, they should enjoy a look at a "furry fantasy world" that isn't too typical of the ones normally portrayed in fantasy novels. The climax and denouement are a bit too rushed, but as is probably appropriate for a story about a naval voyage, it's the journey that's important, and overall, the story itself doesn't disappoint.

Recommended For: fans of 'Ironclaw', low fantasy, and aficionados of naval history

This episode is Woyro's trip diary as he travels to Anthrocon '09 in Pittsburgh. Episode 70---Off to Anthrocon! - This episode is Woyro's trip diary as he travels to Anthrocon '09 in Pittsburgh.

Woyro gives a preview of whats in store at Antrocon. Episode 69---Off to Anthrocon - Woyro gives a preview of whats in store at Antrocon.

Woyro travels down to Pennsylvania to talk with 2 crazies behind the PA Pawpets show...Wolfdog and Darkwolf. Episode 68--Interview with PA Pawpets - Woyro travels down to Pennsylvania to talk with 2 crazies behind the PA Pawpets show...Wolfdog and Darkwolf.

Woyro talks about his trip to Pennsylvania to visit the PA PETS, relates some breaking convention news and runs down the winners of the Ursa Major awards. Episode 67---Con news, PA trip & Ursa Major Awards - Woyro talks about his trip to Pennsylvania to visit the PA PETS, relates some breaking convention news and runs down the winners of the Ursa Major…

Update on some convention news and an interview with fellow skunkie podcaster Marcus Noble. Episode 66---Interview with Marcus Noble - Update on some convention news and an interview with fellow skunkie podcaster Marcus Noble.

Lots of furry news stories and a tune from funny filker Tom Smith. Episode 65---Furry News and Tom Smith - Lots of furry news stories and a tune from funny filker Tom Smith.

Woyro runs down the upcomming conventions and plays a tune by Sub Level 03 Episode 64---Con News and Sub Level 03 - Woyro runs down the upcomming conventions and plays a tune by Sub Level 03

Woyro talks a little more about All Fur Fun and plays some stuff from Matthew Ebel. Episode 63---Matthew Ebel and All Fur Fun - Woyro talks a little more about All Fur Fun and plays some stuff from Matthew Ebel.

Woyro talks about his flight out to Spokane, Washington for "All Fur Fun". also some comments about Megaplex. Episode 62---Live from "All Fur Fun" in Spokane - Woyro talks about his flight out to Spokane, Washington for "All Fur Fun". also some comments about Megaplex.

Woyro talks about his 15 minutes of fame at Megaplex. Onstage with 2 the Ranting Gryphon. Episode 61--On Stage With 2, the Ranting Gryphon - Woyro talks about his 15 minutes of fame at Megaplex. Onstage with 2 the Ranting Gryphon.

I would describe Michael Bergey's 2005 book New Coyote (Five Star, $25.95, ISBN 1594143226) as a must read for science fiction and furry fans alike. The Plains Indians and many of the southwestern tribes as well had an archetypal legend of Coyote, the Trickster. He was a demigod who had mystical powers of self-reincarnation and recreation and he loved to catch others in tricks that could be very nasty indeed for the victim. Of course, in our modern age, hardly anyone believes in the ancient spirits, and consequently they have declined in power until they are nearly forgotten.

Coyote doesn't accept this state of affairs, however. He always has a plan, and his new plan requires that he be born again into physical flesh, without memory or knowledge of who he is, so that he can study modern society and culture and perhaps find a way to restore himself and his fellow gods to their rightful places. His avatar, if we may borrow a term from Asian thought, looks like an ordinary coyote, but we quickly learn that he is both smarter than the average human, and can both understand and speak human language when he chooses.

So where does he set himself down to begin his study of human society? Why, in the middle of an illegal marijuana plantation in the western US, where he acts like an ordinary dog, herding goats for the human owner, Mooney. When Mooney narrowly escapes capture by narcotics agents and has to run, Coyote goes too. This is where the adventure really begins. He manages (mostly) to keep humans from trying to kill him, and pries into everything that is going on with a little help from some of his fellow demigods.

Unfortunately, Fox seems to have it in for him and begins to campaign for Coyote's death, claiming that it would be best all around, and Coyote must find a way to foil the Fox as well as the human villains. The story is largely told in first person, as seen through Coyote's own eyes. The author, a veterinarian by profession, has an excellent feel for the heightened awareness of the canine, and reminds us frequently of the things he smells or hears that mere humans would miss. He also has a magnificent feeling for the trickster tradition of the Native American demigod, which manifests itself repeatedly as Coyote evades capture and turns the schemes of humans back on themselves. I won't give away the outcome, other than to say you'll be hoping for more. As it happens, there is more to be had, as Bergey's second book, Coyote Season, was released in 2007.

As far as I know, these books have not been offered in paperback format. The hardcover editions are in print and available from online booksellers as well as large bookstores, but if the price seems too steep, try your library. Five Star is an imprint of Thorndike/Gale, a publisher that sells primarily to libraries so even if your local library doesn't have the book, they should be able to borrow it for you from somewhere else.

Rating: 5 of 5 possible apples

I would describe Michael Bergey's 2005 book New Coyote (Five Star, $25.95, ISBN 1594143226) as a must read for science fiction and furry fans alike. The Plains Indians and many of the southwestern tribes as well had an archetypal legend of Coyote, the Trickster. He was a demigod who had mystical powers of self-reincarnation and recreation and he loved to catch others in tricks that could be very nasty indeed for the victim. Of course, in our modern age, hardly anyone believes in the ancient spirits, and consequently they have declined in power until they are nearly forgotten.

Coyote doesn't accept this state of affairs, however. He always has a plan, and his new plan requires that he be born again into physical flesh, without memory or knowledge of who he is, so that he can study modern society and culture and perhaps find a way to restore himself and his fellow gods to their rightful places. His avatar, if we may borrow a term from Asian thought, looks like an ordinary coyote, but we quickly learn that he is both smarter than the average human, and can both understand and speak human language when he chooses.

So where does he set himself down to begin his study of human society? Why, in the middle of an illegal marijuana plantation in the western US, where he acts like an ordinary dog, herding goats for the human owner, Mooney. When Mooney narrowly escapes capture by narcotics agents and has to run, Coyote goes too. This is where the adventure really begins. He manages (mostly) to keep humans from trying to kill him, and pries into everything that is going on with a little help from some of his fellow demigods.

Unfortunately, Fox seems to have it in for him and begins to campaign for Coyote's death, claiming that it would be best all around, and Coyote must find a way to foil the Fox as well as the human villains. The story is largely told in first person, as seen through Coyote's own eyes. The author, a veterinarian by profession, has an excellent feel for the heightened awareness of the canine, and reminds us frequently of the things he smells or hears that mere humans would miss. He also has a magnificent feeling for the trickster tradition of the Native American demigod, which manifests itself repeatedly as Coyote evades capture and turns the schemes of humans back on themselves. I won't give away the outcome, other than to say you'll be hoping for more. As it happens, there is more to be had, as Bergey's second book, Coyote Season, was released in 2007.

As far as I know, these books have not been offered in paperback format. The hardcover editions are in print and available from online booksellers as well as large bookstores, but if the price seems too steep, try your library. Five Star is an imprint of Thorndike/Gale, a publisher that sells primarily to libraries so even if your local library doesn't have the book, they should be able to borrow it for you from somewhere else.

Rating: 5 of 5 possible apples

well, today i am going to review a quaint book by the name of Quozl. when i first read this book, i had no idea about the furry community, i just enjoyed the storyline and rather unique viewpoints it gives. i recently reread it, and i'm as enamored of it as ever. this book is about a race of spacefaring, anthropomorphic aliens that are somewhat like a squirrel crossed with a rabbit. they cannot swim, and they have sublimated their violent instincts through art and dance, though they breed like rabbits (pun intended) without strict scientific intervention. they come to earth during world war two, as a colony ship from an overpopulated planet, in the hopes of finding a new home, and with no way to return if they cannot find one. unfortunately, the planet they planned to colonize is already occupied by a violent, unpredictable race...us. the elders and leaders determine that it is too dangerous to make contact, so they colonize in secret. but can the colony stay secret? read and fallow the lives of these oddly peaceful, violent, and very sexual creatures.

five out of five silver dragon scales, with a rating of pg-13.

well, today i am going to review a quaint book by the name of Quozl. when i first read this book, i had no idea about the furry community, i just enjoyed the storyline and rather unique viewpoints it gives. i recently reread it, and i'm as enamored of it as ever. this book is about a race of spacefaring, anthropomorphic aliens that are somewhat like a squirrel crossed with a rabbit. they cannot swim, and they have sublimated their violent instincts through art and dance, though they breed like rabbits (pun intended) without strict scientific intervention. they come to earth during world war two, as a colony ship from an overpopulated planet, in the hopes of finding a new home, and with no way to return if they cannot find one. unfortunately, the planet they planned to colonize is already occupied by a violent, unpredictable race...us. the elders and leaders determine that it is too dangerous to make contact, so they colonize in secret. but can the colony stay secret? read and fallow the lives of these oddly peaceful, violent, and very sexual creatures.

five out of five silver dragon scales, with a rating of pg-13.

Mitch de la Guardia's N'duk the Hunter stories are reminscent of those of Conan the Barbarian, and if I had to guess, I'd say that they're intentionally so. The stoytelling hearkens back to a simpler, more straightforward narrative, similar to the heroic epic, but not bogged down in the poetics; at the same time, the stories also don't follow a very modern literary structure, either, which can be both a benefit and a detractor.

The titular N'duk is a mongoose, presented herein as a mytho-historical figure whose tales are told as legend and as lore, which almost impels the reader to assume that the more outlanding parts of the stories can either be taken at face value or as natural embellishment of what "really" happened. He is a wanderer and a warrior, carrying out heroic deeds as both a mercenary and as a man of honor. With no place to call home, he goes from one place to the next, dealing with problems as they arise.

The stories within The White Towers are, as stated in the introduction, presented in no particular order, and there is no narrative thread that connects them. On the one hand, this does help the heroic epic feel of the stories, but on the other hand, it sort of forces the stories to short-change themselves by preventing much of anything in the way of character development for N'duk himself. He's got his personality, but it's not exactly a fully three-dimensional one, and it doesn't change at all throughout the course of the stories presented here (there are, apparently, Volumes Two and Three also available, but I don't know whether that changes anything or not).

Another major drawback to the storytelling style is that none of the stories has any real dénouement to speak of. The typical structure of the stories themselves is something like: N'duk undertakes (or is forced into) a quest, N'duk confronts what needs to be confronted, climax, The End. Again, this does sort of back up the 'feel' that I think the stories are going for, but for some of the stories (particularly the volume's centerpiece, the novella-length "The White Towers" itself), the endings come across as too abrupt, which robs some satisfaction from them.

From a technical competence standpoint, de la Guardia's writing and grammar are certainly much better than you'll come across on 98% of what's written on the Internet, but the volume doesn't appear to have been checked by a professional editor. For the most part, the writing is fine, but when it comes to the more advanced and obscure points of grammar (the ones most people don't need to heed every day, like comma splices and dangling modifiers), there are some frequent slip ups. Perhaps this sort of thing is invisible to the average reader, I'll admit, but as a writer myself, it's something that I notice.

That being said, there is some simple charm in being able to pick up a story that's not overly complicated and that doesn't get bogged down in its own attempts at literary cleverness. It's clear that de la Guardia at least knows what it is that he wants his stories to do, and they do that pretty well. My chief complaint, I guess, would be that I wish that the stories themselves had a little 'more' to them: more characterization, more tension, more conflict and the like.

Still, if you are looking for something of a furry adventure bent, you could do worse than N'duk the Hunter. The simplicity never quite reaches 'elegance,' as they say, but the stories are at least fun, the world itself is well-realized on the whole, and hey, sometimes you just want to read about a mongoose who kicks ass and takes names.

I think stories could use more of those in general, really.