richardrbecker's reviews
497 reviews

Heretics of Dune is not my favorite in the Dune series. While it revives the complexities of politics, religion, economics, sociology, myth, and military science to build a robust universe in humankind's far future, it often feels like it is looking inward at itself.

In some ways, it feels like a contraction compared to God Emperor of Dune's philosophical and political meanderings. While Herbert explores the consequences of religious splinterings caused by the scattering (which would have made an interesting story on its own), the smaller threads revolve around Sheeana, a girl on "Rakis" who can control the sandworms, and the newest Duncan Idaho ghola, and Miles Teg. 

There aren't any real payoffs after some decent buildups — even the destruction of an entire planet is somehow presented as an afterthought (without even a mention of how it happens). But perhaps there doesn't have to be if this was just a long setup for the next installment, Chapterhouse, where the Bene Gesserit will attempt to transplant a sandworm from Dune on their homeworld. 

The Bene Gesserit want to produce the spice melange under the direct control of the sisterhood and regain control over the universe — something they lost with the rise of Paul Atreides and the subsequent rule of Leto II, who became the God Emperor and set humanity on what he perceived as the Golden Path. This is their goal in Heretics, so it only makes sense this is their goal in Chapterhouse.

Some might argue that Herbert had fun with Heretics and added more action (but no more knife fighting), and some Herbert fans appreciated this after God Emperor of Dune. My take lands with those who loved the series into the fourth book and felt a bit put off by what happens (or doesn't happen) 1,500 years after the God Emperor of Dune. I might have felt differently if Heretics had been a shorter book as it principally shifts the story away from Atreides and toward the Bene Gesserit.

Overall, Heretics certainly has its hits and misses throughout the book. There were many times I expected it to take off, even if it never really did. Despite this, I'll still take the universe Herbet built in his own words more than anything after the first six. And yes, I still look forward to reading the final true installment sometime this year or next. 

I'm glad to have read Bastard Out of Carolina, but I can't say I enjoyed it. The story was an important one in the early 1990s but maybe not as essential today as many authors (including myself) write about child abuse in all its forms. And yet, I know there are some people who will read this book and see their own story, grateful to learn they are not alone. 

As a semi-autographical book, Allison captures growing up in Greenville County, South Carolina, a place mostly known as home to a tight-knit clan of rough-hewn, hard-drinking men. Told through the eyes of Ruth Anne Boatwright, a.k.a. "Bone," Bastard Out of Carolina unapologetically chronicles her abuse at the hands of her stepfather Daddy Glen, and her mother's apparent ability to close her eyes to much of it. The telling is surprisingly raw and visceral.

Allison is a talented writer, making Bone leap off the page. She is especially good at capturing the self-loathing and sometimes self-destructive imagination and behaviors of abused children. The graphic nature, frequent masturbation, and often violent passages resulted in the book being banned. But as is often the case, banning books is the surest way to ensure they are more widely read. 

While the book does an excellent job exploring themes of gender expectations, class, poverty, and family, it doesn't ground itself as well to a clear plot beyond survival. Maybe that's enough. But for me, it meanders too much too often. 

If you can look past protagonist Jessica Ferris being a whiny guessaholic for the book's first half, then you're for a treat. An Anonymous Girl becomes the tense thriller one hopes it might be as soon as the heroine finds her footing and gets past being a self-absorbed victim.

Opening up as a struggling makeup artist trying to earn some cash, Jessica joins a psychological study about ethics and morality conducted by a university professor and well-known therapist named Dr. Sheilds. In trying to be the perfect test subject (and well-paid), Jessica scores high in baring her soul and sharing longtime secrets not even her family knows.

As the study moves from the ethical questions and confessions on a computer screen to real-life role-play, it becomes increasingly clear she has become entangled in a deadly web of lies and love. What makes the trap especially dangerous is that Jessica never knows which of the two antagonists is attempting to manipulate her more for their own selfish gains. 

As a character, it takes a long time to like Jessica Ferris, but eventually, you cannot help to root for her. It's a good thing she comes around or there wouldn't have been any likable characters at all, not even a fringe boyfriend prospect who didn't get the page time he deserved. 

The second installment of the Stillhouse Lake series feels decidedly different than the Stillhouse Lake opener I enjoyed so much. Something was lost in transition as author Rachel Caine elevates her wife of a serial killer on the run, Gina Royal, for a serial killer hunter, Gwen Proctor. 

The net result is a slower pace upfront, a little less action, and a lot less intrigue, placing the book around 3.75 rounded up. The principal issue is that there is no question about who might be on protagonist Gwen Proctor's side, even if the book's characters might sometimes wonder. I didn't wonder along with them. The pitfalls placed in Killman Creek don't have any chance to fool the reader. We're in on it, start to finish, with mo "ah-ha" moments along the way. 

Instead, expect to shake your head as almost every character in the book blunders about bad decisions and roller coaster loyalties because they aren't bright enough to see the noses on their collective faces. Gwen Proctor's children are the worst, with Conner edging out Lanny (Atlanta) in the dumb move department. After the lessons learned in Stillhouse Lake, age alone can't explain away their rashness in suddenly wanting a relationship with the man who wants them and their mom dead. 

Gwen's principal confederate, Sam, is the same. His relationship with the wife of a serial killer who killed his sister heats up until the thinnest misdirection causes it to crash down cold turkey. The turnabout is so abrupt that one wonders if realizing his 'whoopsie' will be enough to salvage anything. His only saving grace is that he is not alone. Everybody turns on Gwen at times and indirectly helps her kids turn against her, too. And since the story is told from the perspective of Gwen, Sam, Conner, and Lanny, we have to wade through what they are thinking the whole time. 

Killman Creek is a journey into the most horrible side of the dark web possible, one filled with child pornography, torture, and snuff films. Some people will appreciate it for the thriller it is, but something feels off without the twists and turns that made the initial novel a pageturner.

The Atlast Six by Olivie Blake is the start of a series with a strong premise, even if the initial plot is only meant to carry readers to a broader, bigger story arc. Don't expect a big wrap-up at the end. Instead, expect a beginning. And if you are okay with that, then there is plenty to appreciate. 

At its heart, The Atlas Six is really a thought experiment packaged in the latest 'school' for the gifted. In this case, replace 'school" with 'society' and 'gifted' with 'magical.' The modern alt-reality world of Olivie Blake is a fun one that follows six young magic users invited to join a secretive Alexandrian Society.

What's great about the story is the way Blake handles magic, making them more akin to small sciences and psychic abilities. She also builds a fantastic backstory overtop the world we live in — not a secret one, but one that exists in lieu of reality. It's clever and enjoyable, especially learning how each of the six initiates is different. The six of them include two physical magicians, one naturalist (commune and control plants), one telepath, one empath, and one who is immune to magical deception (illusions and whatnot) plus something even more extraordinary that comes later. 

The reward for being brought into the fold is clear. If they are accepted, they gain access to the most powerful library in the world, which will give them a leg up on maximizing their abilities. 

The catch (of course there is a catch) in joining the ranks of this society — that selects six candidates every decade — is that only five will be accepted. The sixth will be murder, presumably by the others. 

And that, more than any other plotline, consumes most of the book. In addition to defending the library against society-defined unsavory types, the six candidates spend a significant amount of time trying to sort out which of them is expendable and whether or not their task to kill one of their own is ethical. Alas, it's a thought experiment and Blake does a great job of allowing readers to see each perspective as well as asking themselves what they might do if they were in one of their shoes. 

Aside from the ending, which feels a little jarring in how abruptly a new POV is inserted into the story, and that the discovery tends to focus on the individuals as opposed to the library or society behind it, Atlas Six is a very enjoyable modern-day fantasy with plenty of legs. While there were times that I wished it was more physical in its presentation (although there is one grand action scene), the mental components are strong enough to carry the day. Four stars overall, with a five-star concept. 

Bonus points for the fact Blake initially self-published her title. It was picked up by Tor after the fact. I love that she took this path, which is the same one I took as an author, too. 

Another author recently asked which book has been on my TBR pile the longest. It was The British Lion by Tony Schumacher. I added it in 2017, shortly after reading the author's highly imaginative thriller debut, The Darkest Hour. 

I don't know why I put off reading The British Lion for so long. Maybe it was the alternative reality (Germany occupies London at the close of World War II). Maybe it was the invincibility of the principal hero, John Rossett. Maybe it was slow on the debut or the simplicity of the plot. Whatever the reason, I know now that I was missing out. The British Lion is a better book than the debut. 

This time around, John Rossett is recruited by his frenemy and boss, Ernst Koehler — the same Gemrna officer Rossett spent most of the debut novel trying to avoid.  But to save his own skin, Koehler changes the narrative and makes Rossett a hero at the onset of The British Lion.

It's a good thing an arrangement can be made because American spies kidnap Koehler's wife and daughter in an attempt to blackmail the major into locating and surrendering a Jewish scientist who has reportedly figured out how to create a nuclear bomb. The Americans hope that by making the bomb first, they will prevent a future conflict with Nazi Germany instead of becoming slaves to it. 

There are several problems with the plan. With Lindbergh elected President, many Americans were sympathetic to the German cause and anxious to capitalize on trade agreements. The spies sent to do the job grossly underestimate Koehler’s wife and daughter. Likewise, they don't know that Koehler and Rossett are now on friendly terms, which means Koehler intends to unleash the British Lion on anybody in the way. 

Because Schumacher has fully embraced the world he created in The Darkest Hour, The British Lion is free to explore this alternative reality on its own terms without explanation. And, in doing so, Schumacher can pit several factions against one another after the bungling Americans put their ill-fated plan in motion. Thus, Schumacher opens up an endless series of alliances and betrayals between Americans, Germans, and the British — all of which keep this thriller burning hot while serving up a healthy dose of post-war espionage and military action. 

If you like WWII  thrillers or wartime spy novels, never mind the alternate reality setting. There is no doubt you will enjoy the ride. The British Lion will convince you to add the next on your TBR list too (and I likely won't wait so long to read it). Tony Schumacher has a hard-to-put-down winner here.

Matthew Walker makes a case for more sleep. As an English scientist and the Center for Human Sleep Science director at the University of California, Berkeley, specializing in neuroscience and psychology, he lays a compelling case for 7-9 hours of sleep (at least 8 hours, ideally). 

His argument took four years to write, which is why it became a best-seller several years ago and still has some traction today. The book is broken into four parts: Introduction, Importance, Dreams, and Health. 

The opening is especially interesting as Walker gives us the story of sleep: circadian rhythm, history, and evolution. In this area, we learn that everything sleeps — even worms do something that resembles slumber. Walked also talks about how sleep rhythms change in humans as they age. 

The importance of sleep begins to get into our biology and benefits. It covers correlations between sleep and sports injuries and car crashes, sleep and general health, sleep and memory, etc. Eventually, he draws a more important conclusion, linking lack of sleep to cancer, heart attacks, and a shorter life. 

The third part covers dreams, mainly from a neuroscience perspective on REM and NREM sleep. And the final section does a deeper dive into societal prejudice against sleep, sleeping pills, and other stuff we muck up because we're generally overtired. Walker goes as far as suggesting ADHD-like behaviors could be a symptom of not enough sleep and provides a better understanding of insomnia and how to correct it without medication. 

The book's popularity has drawn its fair share of criticism, but nothing genuinely notable for the average reader. I enjoyed it, learned a few things, and certainly took some of it to heart. (I already knew there was a link to cancer and lack of sleep, having worked on an oncology course with a doctor.) If there is any criticism in the writing, it's mainly that Why We Sleep becomes a bit repetitive at times (and that literary put me to sleep once or twice). But overall, it was a solid read recommended to me by a health coach, and I've already put a couple of sleep-improving practices in place. 

As a fictional crime book focused on real-life events, The Monsters We Make provides plenty to consider — especially its premise: you don't really know the person or people next store. They might look like fine folks on the outside, but they're up to no good on the inside. 

Inspired by the disappearances of two paperboys from a small midwestern town, White sets up a sinister story around 12-year-old Sammy Cox and his seventeen-year-old sister Crystal. Crystal fancies herself as a future journalist, and Sammy is an overweight outcast with a secret. 

Given his state of mind when he hurries home from his own paper route, red-faced and out of breath, one rightly assumes it's a horrible one. It is a horrible one, but also one overshadowed by an entire cast of sadsack people. None of them are confident, root-worthy, or even likable — not even the cop on the case. 

Officer Dale Goodkind is a haunted man in a spoiled marriage. He didn't solve the last disappearance of a paperboy and doesn't seem all that equipped to solve this one. Mostly, his head is stuck in the past, re-living a childhood trauma that remains mostly murky. Still, he is a step up from Sammy and Crystal's mom. She's a whiny single mom (single because she was bored being with a good husband) who works as a hairdresser and is dead set on preventing her daughter from going to college because she never got a break. And that pretty much leaves Crystal to root for. She's a snoop with an underdeveloped moral compass.

Overall, the writing is fine, even if the pace is slow. But the characters did become a spoiler for me. There are also several instances where people just do or don't do things that seem realistic or make any sense. Gooodkind's fellow officers are "joking" that maybe he can't solve the case because he's also the abductor. I'm more inclined to think he can't solve the case because he's inept, losing his cool on several occasions with near-deadly and disastrous results. It's possible, but improbable given that the criminal-apparent is right out in the open.

For fans of slow-burn based on true crime stories, The Monsters We Make will give them just enough. But for people who enjoy a thriller, it tends to fall into the middle range with relatively few thrilling moments. 

Goliath is an impressively written, albeit uneven, contemporary novel that masquerades as science fiction, closer to 3 1/2 stars than 3. It is set in the near future when the Earth empties out as the privileged escape to the stars. 

In this case, privilege is defined as white. It's one of the repetitive political meanderings that Onyebuchi likes to drum upon with little middle ground. That's fine, except these fictional divisions are much starker than reality. The other repetitive meandering isn't political. Onyebuchi's environmental descriptions are also redundant. However, if you omit either the exodus or the ecological condition of the planet, there isn't much left to make the story science fiction as many characters reflect on a past closer to our present (or in our past) than their present. 

Still, there are large sections of Goliath where Onyebuchi proves himself to be a sensational writer. He has mastery over his prose when he isn't pounding away. In these moments, his narrative of oppression commands the most attention. In short, some stories told are stronger than others, and those stories pop up in the middle more than the beginning or the end. Those with a more substantial plot shine the most, especially one that toggles back and forth between two sides of Onyebuchi's race lines. The contrast between an educated Black man in prison and a White racist bounty hunter is among the most bleak and interesting of the collection. 

As a whole, I'm glad I stuck with it because I appreciate his perspective as a writer and as a person. While I see the world a little differently as part of our country's growing multiracial population, the perspective is salient as he attempts to explore race, class, and gentrification. In the end, you're left with something more than what you bring into it, which is more than can be said for most books. More importantly, it demonstrates that Oneybuchi is an author to watch. With a stronger plotline, there is no doubt he will produce something even more remarkable in the future. 

The Invited starts strong but slowly slips into something less sinister, missing the mark on delivering sustainable malevolence. There was plenty of promise for what seemed like a typical paranormal setup — a city couple trades in their fast-paced lifestyle for rural Vermont, fueled by an inheritance that allows them to take a year off and build their own home. The land used to be owned by a witch named Hattie Breckenridge, who was hung by the area townsfolk. 

On the front end, McMahon sets everything up nicely enough with a story that keeps you unsettled on whether the townsfolk don't like newcomers or that maybe there is something to a few supernatural happenings. This part of the story works well enough until our protagonist, Helen, begins to buy up artifacts connected to the Breckenridge family — including a beam made from the tree they hung Hattie. Say what? Her husband develops his own obsession, chasing an elusive white deer that some say is Hattie attempting to lure men to their doom. 

The story eventually settles into a lower gear as the couple befriends a local teenage girl who vandalized their home during its construction. Olive is quick to give up on trying to chase the couple off the land (where she believes Hattie buried a treasure) and make nice, mostly because she is an outcast with one friend and a father who developed his own house remodeling obsession after Olive's wife flew the coup for another man (or so the story goes). 

As Olive's story develops — the quest for treasure, finding out what really happened to her mom, and her connection to Hattie — it takes over the plot and promptly leaves a terrifying ghost story setup behind. This might have been fine had the book been billed as a Nancy Drew/Hardy Boys/Scobby Do-styled mystery but not so much as a real ghost story. Fortunately, McMahon is a good writer. Her writing, but not the plot, keeps things interesting enough to keep going even as it becomes clear this isn't much of a ghost story.