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I found Special People almost by accident, and I am glad that I did.

There certainly has been a lack of good 'super powered' fiction in the past years. I like the idea of normal people going about their daily business, but with special abilities.

I don't think that you will be able to avoid the comparison to George RR Martin's Aces series, which started out well written, but quickly turned to 'pulp'.

Tim's stories are well written, and though it is still early in the story, his work so far has certainly left me wanting to read more.

I have really enjoyed reading the story so far, and am looking forward to the ongoing updates.

I encourage anyone interested in reading 'super' fiction to take a look at Special People.

Gordon

The thing that initially drew me to "Greek Ninja" was the title. I was interested in seeing how a story entilted like that would work out and I must say, although it wasn't what I was expecting to read, I was more than pleasantly surprised.

Thrilling and well-described fight scenes, suspense, funny moments and the use of Greek and Japanese -even Latin at one point!- are some of the best elements. Mythology is a key to the story, and being one of my favorite themes, I was very pleased, especially with the appearance of mythological creatures rather than just bearing mentions to the gods.

All the characters are unique, each with their own -often hilarious- quirks. The protagonist's character development though, was among the most impressive. Sasha started out with an unlikable -in my opinion- personality, however as the story progressed, she became someone I could admire. The friendship between her and the recruited members of "her group", although awkward at first, was a sweet theme, and her interaction with the male lead, Daichi was.... baffling. Seriously, I couldn't tell what their deal was!

The fact the setting changed between Greece and Japan made the story more refreshing and gave insight into the lives of two completely different nations. The portrayal of people from different countries and the general multinational feel of the story, which is particularly intense in the first chapter, have the same effect and provide a view of life from a more European perspective.

The first chapter took its time to get the main plot, and yes, it was a bit slow for my taste, although I did enjoy the way everyday life at Ariadnio was portrayed and getting to know the background of the main characters. Reading through that and getting onto the rest of the chapters, the story takes off, gradually becoming more and more interesting and soon enough, impossible to let go of.

My favorite arc was by far the third one, where most of the important events take place. How I saw it was that the first two arcs were the build-up to the main story, which is the third arc to me. From the twelve chapters, it takes over the six, and basically contains the essence of "Greek Ninja", so I consider it to be "the real story".

All in all, I found "Greek Ninja" to be a great read, especially since it so elegantly combined almost all my favorite themes (was thrilled to find a story that did that!) . It's a must for anyone interested in greek mythology and culture, ninjas, and generally, action. The fact the lead is a female and is strong, not once being shown to be incompetent or anything less than a human being, as is often seen happen in the adventure genre with female characters, is certaintly a favorable feature. Finally, an adventure with a character I can relate to!

Awakenings is a work of post-apocalyptic fiction set in a small Michigan university campus. It deals with survival and the relationships and tensions between the survivors, but with an added supernatural twist - the survivors may have all survived for a reason, one some among them have felt for some time and others are just beginning to become aware of.

It's primarily a character story - largely focussed on dialogue scenes and internal monolgues and it's pretty slow to build and dip into its more fantastical elements. This is both a strength and a weakness. Many characters are introduced very early on, but you quickly get to know them thanks to this way of telling the story, however it can be frustrating that you aren't getting to see some of the concepts that many of them are talking about right from the start. This could have been a technique used to build tension - are these things real, or are they delusional? - but the main characters think and feel their way around these concepts with such confidence that the reader is never left in doubt, even if some of the other leads are.

The characters are generally well-written and likable and if you stick with the story in spite of some occasionally frustrating use of language you'll grow quite fond of them and be interested in their plight, but be prepared to take it for the long haul - this is not a story for those seeking instant gratification. If you can cope with that then you may find it to be a rewarding read in the long term.

You'll like it if you like relationship-heavy, soft fantasy.

You won't if you like 'perfect' prose and plenty of action.

Worth a look.

I am fascinated by and love studying the Romans, especially from the late Republic and early Imperial eras, then toward the fall of the empire (mostly 5th century). Part of what drew me to the Traveller's Guide was the very clear Imperial inspiration for Jovan. If you have even a passing knowledge of the history of the Roman Empire, or European history as a larger whole, your mind is awake and brimming with the possibilities of what the adventures undertaken by the imperial Uncles might lead to. Names like Gallica harken back to the troubles faced by Rome consistently in Gaul and makes you sit up a little straighter and lean forward, waiting to see what their travels are going to reveal about their world and the state of the empire.

Reading the first entry, I came to like both of the brothers very much. As Aden's already observed, the descriptions are very vivid and full of personification--a fortress hunches and broods over the town below and the like.

Very fun stuff so far and I think I'm in for the long haul--and looking forward to seeing where the story takes the brothers next.

DAN LEO'S 'RAILROAD TRAIN TO HEAVEN'

The day is coming when genre categorizations will collapse around our ears. No one would shove a copy of The Master and Margarita into the fantasy section of a Barnes and Nobles, although it has many things in common with the glossy books that you would find there - talking cats, the devil, levitation. But Bulgakov's masterpiece is given the honor of being considered surrealistic social satire instead of fantasy. The same could be said for Dan Leo's Railroad Train to Heaven. I realize that by making this comparison I am entering into the whimsical game that Mr. Leo plays at the start of every episode. He gives us an overblown imaginary quote from Harold Bloom, taken from the pages of the most unlikely magazines possible.

“Little did we oh-so-earnest literati of the latter half of the twentieth century know that a former brakeman for the Reading Railroad by the name of Arnold Schnabel was calmly composing, in complete obscurity, that massive memoir which we now recognize as the great American epic.” -- Harold Bloom, in Better Homes and Gardens.

This is a joke with intent, a little party game that sets the tone for Railroad Train to Heaven as a whole. The work is presented as the autobiography of one Arnold Schnabel, a man of long errands and gordian social entanglements. Arnold is recovering from a nervous breakdown, which may account for his penchant for visiting heaven, entering into contests with the devil, and allowing time to work at a radically different pace than it normally does. The story is set, at least terrestrially, in Cape May, N.J., in the summer of 1963.

I came to Railroad Train to Heaven very late in the game. I've been reading it for about two months now, and haven't gone back to the beginning. Reading it has been my first major involvement with internet serial fiction, and I wanted my engagement with it to be different from my engagement with short stories or novels. A nice little episode delivered to me every week, which I can read with pleasure without thinking that I really should undertake the Herculean labor of becoming a completist. The average post is 2,000 words, which means that, after two-hundred and fifty-one episodes, Railroad Train to Heaven is nearly as long as War and Peace.

Fortunately, Arnold Schnabel's narration doesn't require much back story to be enjoyable. This is a minor miracle in itself. As Arnold wanders around Cape May, he runs into multiple characters whom, I assume, he and the reader have met before. But Dan Leo's individual descriptions of these characters are so precise and compelling that they never get lost in the welter of personalities. This is a particular strength in the writer of internet-based serial fiction. A scrupulous attention to detail and the ability to describe clearly will get you far and help you avoid the besetting sin of any fiction, that of annoying the reader.

Internet-based serial fiction, whether it's blog fiction or Podiobooks or anything else, is as much about the author's personality as it is about the story. When I sit down at my computer every week and contemplate opening up Railroad Train to Heaven I have only one real question for myself. Do I want to spend time with Dan Leo? I'm not worrying about what's happened to Arnold, since I know that he will still be meandering from place to place without any major complications (his story arc, while not being static, is only slightly convex). It is the way in which Dan Leo tells his story - the pithiness of the language, the flow of the dialog, the underlying humor - which brings me back for more.

I realize that, in the course of this review, I've compared Leo with two Russians. Like the great Russians, Leo is writing about a particular society, and his intent is simply to describe it. None of his characters seem to suffer from social isolation or post-modern confusion. They all co-exist happily with each other in a cocktail-laced mid-sixties style bonhomie. Railroad Train to Heaven is, essentially, a comedy of manners, one that is generous to the reader in a way that is, simply, mannerly.

When I started reading Legion of Nothing, I read it for almost six hours straight. It was that engaging. The narrator, Nick, is endearing and as a reader I found myself feeling sorry for him even as I cheered him on--no one likes to have their destiny picked for them, and to be a "normal" teenager stuck following in your grandfather's footsteps as a super hero? Not an enviable task when you think about it.

Zoetewey brings a verisimilitude to superhero stories that's rarely shown through humor rather than tragedy--Nick is no Batman or Superman, no Ironman or mutant, but he and his friends have to deal with the weighty concerns of keeping their secrets and protecting their families. His characters handle what's laid before them with the resilience of youth and the inventiveness of those who haven't been told "No, you can't do it that way."

Very fun story so far.

"The Surprising Life and Death of Diggory Franklin" lives up to its name.

The title character is the son and heir to a rich investor who rivals Warren Buffet and Bill Gates in wealth, but he refuses to be spoiled. He works his way up the corporate ladder on his own as a lawyer, resisting his family's attempts to promote him out of nepotism.

While his life might have been interesting or dull on its own, it's never really a choice for Diggory -- we meet him the same day he meets Calla Wiley, a graduate student in physics. The first time they meet, Calla kisses him passionately and warns him to stay away, at the risk of his own life. He meets her again, just minutes later, and she seems to have no memory of their first encounter.

What Diggory doesn't know yet is that Calla will be inventing a time machine, and blames herself for his future death. And that surprise is just one of many over the course of this epic serial.

The story is divided into convenient "Books," each one with its own principle conflicts and plot, but each contributing to the overall structure of the story. And "structure" is the key word, as every character and plot development has a bigger role to play, with ramifications stretching over time itself.

"Book One: Not your Average Love Songs" starts out the most normal. Diggory has to go about his daily routine while wondering why he's drawn to Calla, and what her secret must be. He suspects that she has bipolar disorder or some other mental flaw that causes her personality changes. He isn't convinced of her time travel until the very end, setting the stage for even more mysteries in "Book Two: An Irregular Action Hero."

The impressive thing about this story is the way it builds. Any one chapter might have humorous dialogue or interesting action, and mysterious cliffhangers. But they build to interesting arcs for each individual Book, so that they each stand out as unique while contributing to the overall tapestry. Events that seemed small at first have greater signficance later, as characters take on bigger roles in Diggory's life, and the stakes are raised as he progresses towards his predicted demise.

Without giving away too much about the surprising plot, let me just say that there's a figure behind the scenes that seems to be manipulating events for a mysterious purpose that involves all of human history.

As an experiment in character creation, Keith Wilson's "The Narrative Imperative" is often very funny and insightful. The story purports to be a blog written by a suicidal psychiatric assignment officer named Harry Zade. Harry has been abandoned by his wife and children and doesn't have much sense of purpose left. As he says, "a long life is valued only by those with a life to live, or those who have not paid much attention to it and value life by habit." Harry's occupation leads him to pay too much attention to life, and his insights into his patient's struggles is one of the story's strengths. It's also the element that gives the story its pathos. Harry has all the theories about life that he needs - as a psychiatrist, he's something of an expert on the human condition. Yet none of that expertise seems to help him at all. Despite his knowledge and his wisdom he is still overweight and desperately lonely. He can analyze all the scars of his own childhood, but that doesn't make them go away.

Wilson has a good ear for dialog and Harry's insights into his patients lives are always fascinating and well written. There is also a very sly sense of humor operating behind this narrative, as evidenced in Harry and Cheryl's Christmas Eve phone conversation. Certain of Harry's posts act as small and beautiful essays on human nature, especially the recent post entitled "Joy." One of the strengths of that particular post is the description of Cleveland's West Market, which gives it a narrative richness that is sometimes missing from the rest of the work.

Which leads me to some of the difficulties that come from using a blog form to tell a larger story. For one, it's hard to follow a blog sequentially, and there are times when Harry himself abandons a straight chronological narrative to dip back into memory. This usually doesn't work. The post entitled Momma's Boy is a case in point. In the post, Harry talks about his past, and there are some very interesting bits about mother/child relationships and the behavior of domineering mothers. But the post centers around a Christmas scene that isn't drawn very sharply. We know its Christmas and that there are relatives around, but we're not quite sure who they are, or what they look like, or what their separate import in Harry's life might be. The post tries to present us with a big set piece, but the rest of the narrative works against big set pieces, since its filtered to such a high degree through Harry's current consciousness. It's as if Momma's Boy is attempting a different literary form, one that jars with the rest of the blog posts.

"The Narrative Imperative" is a good and sometimes enthralling read. In places it calls out for the services of a good editor, someone who could cut away some of the narrative's convolutions and make some of the sentences stronger. But these difficulties pale next to the interest I take in Harry as a character.

Captive Prince is one of the best executions of the royal-warrior-becomes-sex-slave trope I have ever encountered. It's good at what it does, and it doesn't try to be anything it's not: It's really, really well-done homoerotic slavefic. There have been exactly 1.639 sex scenes, and I am still reading. It's not about the sex. It's all about the sexual tension. Which is exquisite.

The two main characters are more archetypes than real people, but they're archetypes that resonate, archetypes that can be related to. The sexual tension is almost agonizingly subtle, and more effective than most graphic sex scenes. The author deftly uses minimalist world-building of a Greek/Mediterranean and European flavor, and there's just enough pragmatic detail to be reasonably realistic and make me willingly suspend my disbelief for everything else. The Mediterranean culture mirror is also a refreshing change from the typically firmly European cast of alternate historical worlds.

The writing is smooth, rolling, and most chapters are quite polished. This was a completely unexpected gem.

Bonds and Blood opens up on the main characters surveying potential juniors (apprentices to higher level, though not necessarily older, vampire hunters), badgering one another, and worrying about who they will be assigned to train. As far as I've seen, the hunters are part of some sort of hierarchical order that trains men (or, at least, only men have been shown) to hunt vampires. The world appears to be slightly different from our own, though I can't be sure since there wasn't much shown of the larger world outside of a club, the order's facilities, and an apartment. There's also a definite anime feel to this series, right down to silver hair on a young vampire.

There's nothing particularly unique about the opening, but the characters themselves were animated and lively enough to draw me in. They remain so through-out the nine available pieces, and are admittedly a large part of why I continued reading.

Fun is probably the best word to describe Bonds and Blood. Even during dramatic scenes, there's always a hint of playfulness, of light-hearted humor that livens things up and keeps the tone from getting too heavy. While the main cast isn't notably three-dimensional, they are amusing, and their intricate relationships and power dynamics make even some of their ho-hum interactions a joy to read.

While all of the cast is entertaining in their own way, I have to say that Saire is my favorite. We open on things from his point of view, and I connected with his awkwardness right off the bat. Of the rest of the characters, Hazel and Manelin also intrigue me, though neither of them have been shown much.

Technically, there are several spelling and grammar errors per part, though it doesn't detract from the flow of the story. The language also gets repetitive in places. Another problem, at least initially, was that Sirrie and Saire have such similar names. It was confusing at first, especially since they're both main characters, the later having been trained under the former. After awhile it became easier to parse them out, but only because they weren't often speaking to one another.

The series hasn't been updated since April, and no hiatus notice has been placed up. It is a carefree and relaxing diversion to read, so I hope it hasn't been abandoned. After all, I'd really like to know more about the characters, their history, and their world.

A great story has wonderful characters, plot, sensory details, and world building. But more than that, a great story has a certain spark that draws you in from the very beginning, and keeps you coming back for more. Memory of AUSOS has all of those things.

The story opens right in the middle of the action. Two Dolls (mechas) have invaded the grounds of the military academy, destroying buildings and causing confusion and fear among the students. Intan is the main character, who seems to be less shocked at the sudden arrival of the Dolls than she is stunned by the lack of reaction from the school security forces. Caring more about the other students than self-preservation, she rushes off to help in any way possible. And that way just happens to be piloting a retired Doll and leaping into the fight for some of her peer's lives.

It's clear that Memory of AUSOS takes place in a fully realized world. The author utilizes this well, without leaving a reader feeling lost in a world they don't quite understand. Instead, details of the world are revealed as necessary for the story, without info-dumping long histories where none are needed.

The author also includes supplementary information, with an artist's renderings of the characters, a map of the world, and a brief explanation of the academy and universe. The site summary itself gives readers some interesting clues as to where the plot is going, and what's in store for the character's future.

Memory of AUSOS makes good use of its serial format. The author reveals character histories, tantalizing plot details, and world-building in small doses, leaving plenty of unanswered questions and details that leave readers hooked and waiting on the edges of their seats for more. I highly recommend checking it out.

I love ‘quirky and different’, and from what’s evident so far I do believe this novel could be quite exciting.

The opening chapters depict a blunt realistic world in which the various weird and deranged characters’ reactions are combined with recognisable everyday elements, but wrapped in an edgy tense and surreal atmosphere.

I was pleased to see the narrative is fast paced, using some wonderful and unusual descriptions while maintaining a simplistic streak, so it both conjures the Mervyn Peake-ness of which the author speaks, and something more minimalistic that all can easily digest.

I like the moral ambiguity of the main character Arthur, and although the first few chapters depict a rather intense series of happenings, the fourth and latest chapter pivots into something a lot lighter, and very funny. It’s clear that with something like this, which can flip from serious issues to tongue-in-cheek with such colour, is going to be fascinating to follow. The so-called ‘Three Musketeers’ are a treat to read about. The characters are rounded so well.

As for the eponymous city itself… There’s a sinister, decaying feeling to Theatrica, like it’s a city on the verge of collapse. What this may have in store for the future I look forward to finding out.

The web site is easy to follow, simple and easy to use, without looking cheap. The Extras section looks enticing, and it promises extra stories and other related media. Well worth looking at!

I’ve been a fan of Jones’ writing for a few years now. Her work is full of black comedy, suspense, memorable characters, and palpable atmosphere. 314 Crescent Manor is no exception.

Mark and Nathan Connor are estranged fraternal twins drifting through life. They know that something’s wrong, but can’t put their finger on what until The Event happens at Crescent Manor. Even after the supernatural (or quantum physics-related, depending on your point of view) Event turns their lives upside down, the siblings don’t yet have all the answers. A cast of supporting characters, each as wonderfully strange as conspiracy theorist and bohemian artist Nathan and straight-laced, too-serious Mark, helps them with their quest. The Manor itself, a decaying art deco apartment building, is as much of a character as its tenants. It’s eerie and unsettling, which makes you wonder all the more about those who live there.

314 Crescent Manor comes to a satisfying conclusion while leaving room for more—and I certainly hope there’s more!

I'm not much for pirates or for romance stories featuring heroines dropped "into another world" , but I do think that one thing this story does quite well is reflect the author's comfort with writing about the pirate world and history. There's a confident presentation of "life as it was in the 1700s" that comes through, and for me -- wholly unfamiliar with this type of world -- this is entertaining in itself.

Hopefully as this story continues forward it will not rest on romantic moments (as there are quite a few already in its short duration that distract from the other interesting parts of the work), but trying to share something about the character and her slow adaptation to the environment. I hope there will be more explanation forthcoming on the other characters who have been dropped into this time/place.

In the words of author Rima L. Jean (RLJ) herself in her intro to the "Noble Pirates" blog serial : "What is your fiction about? It’s about time travel and pirates." And what time travel, and what pirates!

The story’s heroine, a modern-day, workaholic, sassy lady falls overboard during a vacation close to the famed Bermuda Triangle. After reluctantly submitting to what she thinks is her demise by drowning, our heroine regains consciousness aboard a sailing ship full of pirate reenactors that talk so odd and smell so bad that she vomits and gets worried that something is rotten in the current state of reality. When she sees the first town ashore with no hotels and BMWs, she realizes that the pirates just may not be reenactors after all. RLJ’s prose puts one right there with the heroine, her rising panic, and her tortured sense of smell. It’s moving, hilarious and rich as the taste of spizy food in a smoky 18th century Caribbean tavern that RLJ so richly evokes. The constant clash between modern-day sensibilities and 18th century lack of it could be described by anyone, but RLJ leaves other authors standing in her gradual unfolding of how the heroine gets used to it, like a new wristwatch you gradually cease to feel on your arm.

While growing into her new sorroundings, our heroine meets the pirates of the story’s title, some rougly noble, some anything but. Lest you think this is a some kind of National Geographic feature, let me tell you right away there’s enough swashbuckling adventure in "Noble Pirates" to make two Douglas Fairbankses happy. Tolerated on a succession of pirate ships as a doctor (in that world, cleaning a wound is advanced medicine!), our heroine struggles with rig climbing and fencing (choking and fumbling like we’d all do), and with her attraction to several of the noble(r) pirates of the Caribbean. The Caribbean itself is lovingly evoked, blue waters and smoky shanty towns and all, RLJ has a rare talent for making one’s comfy armchair disappear, as your senses fill up with the sights and sounds and smells and tastes of a bygone world. Our heroine is on the verge of despair at the impossibility of returning to her own time period when a mysterious prophecy from a voodoo truthteller foretells of a mysterious black pirate that will aid her in her quest - if she can only find him.

I will spoil none of the delightful twists and turns by telling, RLJ gives us almost eighty chapters of this addictive stuff and it is not one too many.

These stories are not nearly as strong as Aphorisms of Kherishdar, and for me suffer both from stylistic and intellectual approach.

Each piece in this collection is told by a different narrator, so the sparse description and brevity doesn’t have the benefit of building on itself over time. They do build into a characterization of the person of Shame, who is never a narrator, but while I like the idea the result was weak.

I often found the stories ungrounded, because they are little more than a voice describing only one extraordinary, often painful moment in their lives. I get no sense of who they are other than this ’sin’ and their reaction to their ‘Corrections.’ As another commenter noted, the voices often sound the same and end up blurring together. To me the voices didn’t seem like realistic portrayals of the inner thoughts of people from these walks of life, but rather the tropes of people from these walks of life. There was little nuance in their characterization, nothing for me to connect to something deeper.

Admonishments of Kherishdar relies much more heavily on the morally relativistic ‘This might not work for us but it works for them’ idea than Aphorisms, and so the weakness there was magnified significantly.

The Ai-Naidar are bipedal mammals who have developed a (presumably) agrarian-based, hierarchical, urbanized civilization. They appear to have two eyes, ears, hands, feet, and a mouth. From reading both collections I have no reason to believe their weather, geology, flora and fauna, solar radiation, gravity, physical senses, or diet are in any way significantly different from ours (they do not, for instance, have a bi-annual plague of fire-eating insects). Essentially, they are us, but with fur, cat-ears, claws, and a tail. Thus it’s hard for me to suspend my disbelief when presented with ‘They’re different from us and what doesn’t work for us works for them.’ I don’t see how they are different from us, or why shaming, torture, and brainwashing would work healthily for them. Also, despite how ‘different’ they are, they seem to espouse rather mainstream views on monogamy, abortion, and possibly masochism. I also don’t buy that a society insisted to be a near utopia would have the psychological ills described. Those psychological ills are very much grounded in our civilization.

The stories are still thought-provoking, but without the precision and grace of Aphorisms. There are a handful of stories in here that evoked the same rewarding internal conflicts in me that Aphorisms did that I think are worth checking out:

-Non-Conformity -Vanity -Perversion -Ignorance -Tolerance -Cradle -Calling

I was extremely intrigued (and excited) about the premise of these stories: A culture where prescribed social interactions and a caste system are healthy social dynamics. I’ve always been fascinated by caste worlds in fiction, from the Dragonriders of Pern to the Black Jewels Trilogy, where everyone has an intrinsic place in the social order and a sense of belonging there, and the complex and fascinating social interactions that ensue. I’m also personally interested in exploring ritual interactions laid down by generations of tradition, and I’ve always wanted to experiment with that in a culture that resonated personally with me.

Aphorisms didn’ t give me the latter as I’d hoped, but it gave me plenty of food for contemplation. It became clear very rapidly that the Ai-Naidar are hierarchical, urbanized, and civilized, which are not only pretty stock fare for sci-fi and fantasy, but which are, for lack of a less dramatic term, anathema to me. The narrator, the Calligrapher, explicitly states that the purpose of writing these stories is to show outsiders how their culture can work for them, when those same structures are so destructive for outsiders (including humans, presumably).

The author seems to approach the subject from a very morally relativistic perspective: ‘What works for them works for them. They’re different from us. If we judge them we are only being culturally near-sighted.’ In my personal perspective I have one foot planted in cultural relativity, and the other firmly grounded in my own personal experience. I believe objectivity is an illusion. I can only examine things from what I know and have experienced. So when I read Aphorisms, it was not without personal reactions as the characters repeatedly reaffirmed and glorified the strict conformity of caste and rank, held in check by public shamings and psychological reconditioning.

Aphorisms is, however, full of concepts that resonate very deeply with me as well. They have a separate concept of touch and sexuality with its own word and social place. They have an unpretentious ease with children. There is an amazing intimacy achieved between characters through an intrinsic knowing of their place in the world and being able to navigate social interactions by that knowledge. The imagery of calligraphy, and calligraphy as a form of healing, has a breathtaking, simple beauty.

What I really appreciate about these stories is the internal conflict they evoked in me when I found concepts that deeply touched me in contexts that did not. The discomfort of this juxtaposition made me think, made me examine myself on a feeling level that has been very rewarding. And that is exactly what I believe the power of story is. Stories entertain, yes, but stories show us who we are, show us nooks and paths and places in ourselves we might not have found otherwise. These stories have that power.

Where the stories really fell flat for me was in depth of characterization. Twenty-five stories by the Calligrapher, some examining incredibly intimate moments, and I still feel like I have very little idea of who he is, even taking into account how he fully identifies as his caste and role in life. He was often portrayed in the role of wise-person that others go to for advice, and yet I have no idea how old he is (except that he is not an elder and is a father), or how he came to be in that role. I don’t know what his formative experiences were, what makes him the way he is other than the bones of his society.

I feel even more in the dark on this level about Ai-Naidar culture. The stories are almost completely ungrounded in the landscape. Cultures spring from their physical environment, and there are almost no references to nature or physical subsistence. The weather is rarely mentioned, the landscape other than the city described only once as ‘bucolic loveliness.’ I literally have no idea what their planet is like. I don’t know how an empire of five planets feeds itself, except that it involves farming at some point because of a single description of a field with a fence. I don’t know what animals populate their world, what stimuli in their evolution that would cause the Ai-Naidar to actually be different from us. It was extremely difficult for me to suspend my disbelief and find ‘They’re different and it works for them’ realistic without any of this information.

Even with this, I appreciate that the author explored the concepts they did consciously. Many people hop on the fictional totally-morally-okay empire train without an iota of examination. The author’s prose is gracefully simple and compelling, the emotional and interpersonal imagery gorgeous. I’m really glad I found Aphorisms, and the inner exploration reading it triggered.

I had seen this one floating around WFG for a while, but I never went to read it until I realized the author was also the co-author of the very awesome Metanoia webcomic (on frequent hiatus, alas), and I got pretty excited.

God Eaters has some definite thematic parallels to Metanoia (in fact, just take the same phenotypes of the main characters and reverse the roles), which makes me wonder if this was a prototype for the webcomic, or vice versa. Or maybe the author just enjoys those themes. I’ve gotten through 17 of 31 chapters, and I’m not sure I can do much more than skim the rest out of curiosity. It has many of the stock slightly edgy yaoi romance elements: killers and innocents, virgins and whores, hurt-comfort, prostitution, forbidden homosexuality, and sexual love healing wounded souls (which I personally think is a cultural fallacy that can be dangerous to reinforce), but much better written than the usual fare. There is much candy-tastic description of hair, eyes, voices, skin, etc. Usually the only time I go for stories like like this is when I’m straight up looking for porn, which this has very little of as far as I’ve read (and possibly not in the places the author intended).

I’m more a fan of execution in stories than content, and God Eaters is an example of my least favorite form of storytelling. Other commenters have noted the weakness of the preface, which pretty much outlines what’s going to happen in the rest of the story. I’m given information every step of the way, a fairly constant stream of personal, cultural, geographic, and mythological explanations. I’m never left to wonder. I felt no sense of discovery or anticipation when reading. The pacing is pretty much the same throughout the story, making it feel like a steady flow of water without any change in the current or direction. I didn’t feel any building momentum, or any slow savoring. An incredibly touching scene of hair combing after trauma is given fewer words and as much emotional space as a robbery.

There is some really engaging description of godhood and visions, and the occasional razor-sharp insight into the physical practicality of things. I appreciate the places where the author steps away from the tropes of this genre, and both main characters seem to have more self-awareness around healthy relationship dynamics than the average story of this type, though the "I can’t live without you you’re the only person I can ever feel connected to" shtick is still pretty strong.

If you want a pretty well written yaoi romance with the elements listed above, you might very well enjoy this immensely. But despite my love of the author’s other work, and my general interest in yaoi that involves a lot of bleeding, God Eaters isn’t for me.

Readers fascinated with Jack the Ripper theories will enjoy this story. Drawing from several theories surrounding the identity of Jack the Ripper and the motive(s) for the killings, Walter develops a fresh perspective in this creepy horror story. And I mean creepy in a good way.

The writing is subtle in tone, but carries the reader along. Those who enjoy historical fiction will appreciate the author’s descriptions of London in the 1880’s. The characters are well developed, and the prose is descriptive without bogging the reader down into minute details.  This is a fun read with a surprising, twist at the end.

This is the first piece of webfiction that really wowed me. Wysteria handles all elements of the story incredibly deftly. I love the everyday but uncluttered pace, the realistic character portrayals and interactions, and the touch of physical description that gives the surroundings life without pointing to any one Asian (perhaps my own assumption) culture. I love all the rare, delicious cultural tidbits that pop up (especially around festivals), and how I have to make my own connections and be content being left somewhat in the dark. After all, Suki has no reason to explain to herself what she already knows. I find this story both gripping and gently flowing. The author seems both talented and polished, and entirely unpretentious about it.

Suki is neither a Mary Sue, nor an anti-hero. She’s classist, sexist, heterosexist, racist, ageist, and probably a bunch of other -ists, and utterly sympathetic. She’s human, and building her life in the ways she has been taught and the ways circumstances provide her. She is very much a product of civilization. Sometimes I question her ability to write down past conversations in such precise detail, but I can suspend my disbelief in that I can believe that someone in her social role would need those kinds of skills to survive in the political climate of her empire.

I just got to book two, and it feels different. But it is different, and as much as I think wistfully of the flavor of the first book, I think the difference in feeling serves the story. So the second book is different than what I first loved, but it is worthy and intriguing and exciting all itself.