Carrie Vaughn is like Laurell K. Hamilton, only better. I liked Hamilton's first five books, but her recent efforts have been redolent with existential angst, precious self-awareness, and bizarre sex acts. Her increasingly redundant story lines--will Richard come to terms with being a werewolf? Will Damien grow a spine? Will Anita overcome her guilt?--now come at the expense of a plot. While I continue to read her books out of a sense of loyalty, I miss the good old days when her books were tightly written, funny, and exciting.

Enter Carrie Vaughn: in Kitty Raises Hell, the latest installment in the "Kitty" series, Vaughn gives us just the right amount of political intrigue, frightening creatures, action, violence, and human foibles--with a kick-ass heroine to lead us through it all. In this classic urban fantasy theatre, Vampires and werewolves have been "outed", and now live among us in relative peace. Vaughn treats us to all the old standards we've come to know and love: a vampire "Master of the City", a contentious werewolf pack, and plenty of skeptical humans. There's an underlying tension between those who want to preserve the "old ways"--"might is right" and let the chips fall where they may--and those "new world order" Democrats, who want to lead by consensus. The question becomes, how can Kitty lead her pack effectively, influencing them toward the "right" choice without sacrificing her ideals?

In the eighth installment of the "Kitty" series, Kitty discovers--the hard way--that she's not quite done with the Band of Tiamat. Or, rather, the Band of Tiamat isn't quite done with her. After a series of inexplicable attacks, Kitty realizes she needs all the help she can find. Help comes in the form of a popular reality TV program, "Paradox PI", and its intrepid crew--a group of people who turn out to be more than they seem. Along with Rick, the Master Vampire of Denver, they race to understand the nature of this new evil before it's too late.

Kitty Raises Hell could be cliché, but it isn't. While to some authors these standards are a crutch, to Vaughn they're merely a starting point. She takes them in stride and uses them to craft an original work. Nothing about her universe feels stale or worked over; if I didn't know better, I could easily assume she was alone in her field. The Denver of the "Kitty" series is remarkably believable--as are the problems Kitty and her fellow citizens face. While their adventures are unquestionably epic--battling ancient Babylonian cults, demons, even law enforcement--they don't have that fake "watch me save the world before dinner" feel. They're blissfully free of the kind of posturing that characterizes Goodkind's books.

Vaughn's focus is right where it should be, on her characters. Kitty is highly convincing, realistic protagonist; she's a strong woman, but she's also a vulnerable woman. A radio host and independent business owner, Kitty's career struggles, to some extent, mirror her experiences as Alpha of her pack. She doesn't always know the right answer or make the wisest decision, but she's sincere in her expectations of herself. It's refreshing to find a protagonist who has, dare I say it, "normal" issues--who isn't consumed with anger over old hurts, who doesn't spend several hundred pages ruminating on how difficult it is to be emotionally shut down. Most of us want a heroine whose challenges, whether emotional or professional, make sense to us. Within the first few pages, Kitty comes through loud and clear as a real person.

Her cast of supporting characters is excellent, as well. Kitty's relationship with Ben, her husband, isn't perfect--but it's believable. If you're getting a little sick of the "will he or won't he" drama, perpetually broken hearts, and overly self-aware pity sex so common in other urban fantasy series, then you'll find the "Kitty" series really refreshing. Here, her relationship plays an important supporting--not a starring--role. Ben is not only a real person, but also a meaningful partner; he helps Kitty save the world with his skills as a lawyer, not his penis. It's refreshing to see a fictional couple that can connect outside of the bedroom.

Moreover, for a wonder, Kitty actually has friends and coworkers who are more than just cardboard cutouts! In Kitty Raises Hell, Kitty makes some new friends, and I really enjoyed following their growing relationship. She also deepens her connection with some old friends. In a field that's become overcrowded with clichés, stereotypes, and one trick ponies, Vaughn is a very refreshing change. Even her bit players stayed with me after I finished the book.

And there's just enough sex to keep your attention. Sex occupies the same exalted role here that it does in real life: it's an expression of passion, sometimes comfort, and usually love. Vaughn uses it to reveal Kitty's vulnerability, and let us understand a little more about her relationship with Ben. Like any good writer, Vaughn doesn't need paragraph after paragraph to get her point across; she conveys a world of complexity in just a few sentences.

If you're looking for paragraph after ponderous paragraph about thrusting, heaving, and releasing, this series isn't for you--but if you're longing for a book that's actually about something, this series will be one of your favorite discoveries this year. Kitty Raises Hell might not be the most original book I own, but it's a gripping read nevertheless. Revisiting this Hamilton-esque world is comforting, like pulling on a favorite sock--you know what to expect, and that's part of the thrill. The "Kitty" series is a familiar--and very welcome--thrill.

I bought Sergei Lukyanenko's Nightwatch because it had an employee recommendation tag stuck to it at Barnes and Noble. I don't know what whoever tagged it was thinking. Honestly, I really shouldn't even be writing this review, because I never managed to finish the book...but I don't think I will.

I mean, if I were kidnapped and left to rot in a gulag somewhere, and this was the only book available to me, then yes, I'd finish it. Otherwise, no. Am I being dramatic? Well, I tend to strong opinions about my reviews--and, honestly, why else would you need a review in the first place? I'm not trying to sell the books, I'm trying to steer you in the right direction, and, hopefully, keep you from wasting your time. Admittedly, most of my reviews are negative. Then again, admittedly, most modern fantasy is bad. Heck, a good book is a rare commodity in general and always has been. I'm of the opinion that--sorry Mr. Bloom--many so-called "classics" are only classics because they're old and we can't quite understand them.

Dickens, Bronte, even Hardy--these were sensationalist authors in their time, and most of their contemporaries thought they were writing crap. Most of Dickens' "novels" were originally published as magazine serials. He was the Stephen King of his time, except he had a political streak.

I hated this book.  For terrible writing, complete lack of plot and about as much character development as the average installment of Penthouse Forum, I give Laurell K. Hamilton's latest novel Blood Noir an "F."  I'd give it a lower grade if I could.  I'm operating off of more, here, than residual feelings of betrayal.  For a long time, Laurell K. Hamilton was one of my favorite authors.  She gave us a strong female protagonist who had interesting adventures.  Although vulnerable, she was never a slave to her emotions.  Part fantasy, part thriller, part murder mystery, these books were something different.  It discouraged me, when Hamilton started writing soft-core porn.  For awhile, she at least maintained some degree of integrity; her characters had adventures in between bouts of kinky sex.  Eventually, though, those adventures grew less and less frequent, until they finally disappeared.  I thought her last installment, The Harlequin, was bad--Hamilton wasted about 400 pages to describe Anita Blake and her boyfriends going to a Cirque du Soleil type of event.  Well, heck, in comparison, that was the best book ever.

When I was in grammar school I was already an inveterate reader of Terry Brooks.  I remember running around my neighborhood with a staff and a brown cloak my grandmother had made for me, pretending to be a Druid of the Four Lands.  Often I would press my little brother and one or two of my friends into service, equip them with homemade fantasy regalia, and then begin the inevitable discussion of who was to be Allanon, who Bremen, who the ancient Galaphile.* 

The Shannara books were the first post-Tolkien fantasy novels I read, and I enjoyed them perhaps a bit too much at that age.  Later on, I even slogged through the Magic Kingdom of Landover Series.  After finishing The Talismans of Shannara, which effectively ended Mr. Brooks's work in the world of Shannara for quite a few years to come, I moved on.  I saw The Word and the Void series as it hit the shelves, but at that point I was too wrapped up in other reading to be interested in a non-Shannara Terry Brooks book, and the idea of fantasy set in the real world never held much fascination for me.

Aside from the a brief dalliance with The Voyage of the Jerle Shannara when that trilogy came out, I didn't read another Terry Brooks novel for a long time after that.  Then recently, after seeing CJ read and enjoy Word and Void, I decided that it was finally time to complete my reading of Terry Brooks.  I found that The Word and the Void trilogy, comprised of the novels Running with the Demon, A Knight of the Word, and Angel Fire East, is a heartfelt, if not revolutionary, work of early urban fantasy.

Conceptually, there’s nothing new about having supernatural entities like vampires, zombies, werewolves, and whatnot existing alongside humans and having their own hotspots in nightclubs and bars. Just read one of Laurell K. Hamilton’s Anita Blake novels for that idea, but Mark Henry does take it a step further with the aforementioned magazines, their own newspapers, a reality TV show—Undead on Tape—a spa, and even a 12-step group!

Parts of this book were like watching my cat suck his toes: morbidly fascinating, but not very interesting.  Until the last 50 pages or so, I had difficulty putting it down—even as I wished it were better.  Before I get into the meat of the review, let me point out that The Outlaw Demon Wails was only disappointing in relation to the whole of the series.  Since Kim Harrison debuted the Rachel Morgan series in 2004 with Dead Witch Walking, she’s impressed me as one of the best new writers working today.  Her realistic characters and original plots stand out in a field full of clichés, murky plots and archetypal characters.  However, for the first time, in the sixth installment, KH falters.