There are many things I love in life. I love my parents. I love my friends. I love playing online Tetris for free. I love a tall, ice-cold pint of beer. I love that the space bar will pause Youtube, Hulu, and Netflix Instant viewing.

I love all of these things and never have to defend that. But one thing I occasionally do find myself defending is my love of fantasy.

In a way, I get it. Fantasy is, on its surface, a genre packed to the gills with elves, dragons, and wizards — not exactly grown-up fair. How can a story with magic spells and dashing princes compare to the very realistic plays of Tennessee Williams, the written works of Jack Kerouac, or the films of Gus Van Sant? What makes fantasy so great?

In a word: metaphor.

For those not too proud to explore a work of fantasy and not too dense to look beneath its surface, the fantasy genre is a rich addition to the literary, film, and television canon because it explores very real human problems and desires by creating allegories through which to explore them.

Name any fantasy work that has withstood the test of time, and you will find in it a fable full of lessons of all too real applicability.

Michael Ende’s landmark novel, The Neverending Story, which was turned into a decent movie in the ’80s, is about a young boy named Bastian Balthazar Bux, who is neglected by his father and bullied by his schoolmates. He finds a book that transports him into another world called Fantasia, a world that is the embodiment of all the dreams and fantasies of the real world, which is being destroyed by an enemy called the Nothing.

The story is moving and absorbing not due to its host of magical creatures, but because it taps in all of us that longing to be a child again, to be able to lose yourself in worlds of your own creation, before the dark, unimaginative specter of adulthood falls upon us.

This theme of the wonder of a child’s imagination is explored many times over in fantasy, from The Wizard of Oz to The Chronicles of Narnia to Labyrinth.

While passionate, romantic love is a theme explored in virtually every genre imaginable, has there ever been a better representation of the honest, pure love between friends as there was in The Lord of the Rings? The entire sprawling epic that is Tolkien’s masterpiece essentially hangs on a single conceit: that we as an audience accept that Sam will do anything for Frodo.

This is a hard sell for some, because the notion of the power and beauty of platonic love is not a prevalent idea in our culture. Their relationship isn’t romantic so there’s no promise of sex. Frodo is hardly royalty so there’s no allure of vast treasures. Sam is committed to Frodo, with no reward expected, because that’s just the kind of person he is, and who wouldn’t want a friend like Sam? Who wouldn’t want to be a friend like Sam?

Toss in the fact that it’s two lowly hobbits, humble and small in stature, who succeed in saving the world, and you have a classic for the ages. It takes a story about hobbits to make us see the wonder in our fellow man.

This past year, the high fantasy television show Legend of the Seeker came into its own when episodes began appearing that were not necessarily part of the larger plot, but instead focused on characters by throwing them into fantastical situations that mirrored real life problems.

Kahlan, a young woman who was torn between her sense of duty and her love for her companion, Richard, was in one episode magically split into two people, and through this spell we came to learn much about her and how difficult her burden really was.

Another episode featured Cara, a woman who was abducted and brainwashed and turned into a killer. As she attempted to regain her humanity, she was turned into a Baneling (basically a sentient zombie), thus making her metaphorical fight to be a regular person quite literal.

The point is that we could have simply watched biopics of Margaret Thatcher or Patty Hearst, and I’m sure some would be content to do just that, but those projects are limited to the real and mundane. By steeping a story in allegory, you have a much larger canvas on which to paint.

I suppose the fantasy genre will always be overlooked by those who wish to appear highbrow. After all, magic and flights of fancy are a hard sell to the academic.

But for those of us in the know, fantasy has a way of engaging our suspension of disbelief by accessing the emotional truths in stories about hobbits and goblins, and reflecting the realities of our world through a supernatural lens. Like opera and musical theater, which engage our emotions through music rather than realism, fantasy will forever be a step removed from reality, but never so far that we can’t recognize it. And it’s because of that very distance from reality that the genre is able to remark on it so keenly.

Four and a Half Torches (Out of Five)

Steampunk is the sub-genre of sci-fi set in a 19th century, Industrial Age, Jules Verne-type setting, and lately, the buzz around it is pretty much deafening.

One recent entry to the sub-genre is The Affinity Bridge by George Mann (Tor Books, $13.99).

It’s an enormously fun read.

How fun? The book has robots. And zombies. Doesn’t look like it from that cover, does it? It makes the book look old-fashioned, which it isn’t really.

If you’ve never read steampunk, the thing you need to know is that the setting isn’t supposed to be “real.” There was never a time in the 19th century when technology was anywhere near this advanced. It’s science fiction of the “future” … set in the past. The past’s vision of the future, if you will. Get it?

No matter. The story involves two investigators in Victorian London, Sir Maurice Newberry and his trusted, platonic associate Miss Veronica Hobbes. They’re investigating the mysterious crash of a zeppelin that was piloted by a robot. Did something go awry in the robot’s brain? The creator of these robots says that malfunction is impossible, but there are enough suspicious clues to make Newberry and Hobbes think there’s more to the story.

To make matters worse, a nasty virus, probably imported from India, is infecting the slums of London, turning poor people into brain-eating zombies.

George Mann might not win any awards for his prose itself — it’s very straightforward, sometimes even pedestrian. (The book isn’t written in a Victorian style.)

But the success of this book just goes to show that a “novel” isn’t just about words: it’s about storytelling. And in that respect — the most important respect of almost any novel — the author is enormously successful. The book is readable, the characters are appealing, and the plot is tight and very satisfying.

Pick this one up. And the even better news is that it seems to the first in a series,  A Newberry & Hobbes Investigation.

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(Three and a Half Torches out of Five)

Just last week, this website was lamenting the seeming disappearance of old-fashioned, sprawling epic high fantasy. But the new book Shadow Prowler by Alexey Pehov (Tor Books, $24) proves it hasn’t disappeared completely.

Shadow Prowler, a translation of the first in a trilogy that is enormously popular in Russia, is the story of Harold, a thief in the medieval city of Avedoom who is way down on his luck. It doesn’t help that evil is clearly afoot in the land in the form demons on the loose and an eerie fog rolling in — the work of the evil Nameless One, no doubt.

Soon Harold is given a commission by the king he literally can’t refuse: steal a magical artifact called the Rainbow Horn, something that will help in the fight against the Nameless One.

Soon Harold, a classic reluctant hero, is drawn into joining a band of warriors setting off on a much greater quest.

The translation is certainly readable (although there is some occasional awkwardness, especially in its shifts between first and third person).

And — I don’t know if it’s the fact that the author is Russian 0r what — there is a certain irony-free innocence to both the characters and the prose. Sometimes the book reads like a kids’ book, or as if it is a tale spoken directly to the reader, and the effect can be quite charming.

Alas, the book is also a pretty good reminder of what made sprawling epic fantasies go out of fashion in the first place: we’ve heard all this before. Yes, there are a few details that are different from The Lord of the Rings — some elves have fangs, for example. But story-wise, there is nothing fresh here.

And — a major pet peeve of mine — the book simply doesn’t stand on its own: it’s just a set-up for the rest of the trilogy. I liked the opening half of the book, when Harold is a thief working on his own. But once he joined with a group of adventurers (the inspiration for the very misleading cover painting, apparently), I confess I got bored, mostly because so much of it seemed like padding.

I don’t think it’s asking too much that, if you’re going to write a trilogy, each book have its own individual story, with its own set-up and resolution — even if that “resolution” doesn’t resolve the overall story and just makes me desperate to read the next book. There story here, at least in the second half of the book, just seemed too slight for me.

Still, fans of epic fantasy trilogies could probably do much worse.

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Book Expo America, or BEA, is the largest trade book fair in North America, which means that pretty much every single publisher in the U.S. (plus many from overseas) converge on the universally loathed Jacob Javits Convention Center in New York City for one brief, packed week of buzz about books.

Last week, I joined the thousands of footsore book enthusiasts making the long walk from 8th Avenue to the Javitz Center, in search of this fall’s big trends in fantasy literature. Here’s what I discovered:

1. Zombies: They Just Keep Coming Back

Zombies may be much less alluring than vampires (all that rotting flesh is kind of a turn-off), but this fall, they’re poised to take over the world.

In September, Ace Books’ leads off with Dust by Joan Frances Turner, written from the first person perspective of a girl who died nine years ago in a car crash and came back as a zombie. Most zombie novels are told from the perspective of humans fleeing the horde, so this book delivers a twist from the get-go: See what it really feels like to be undead.

Not to be outdone, Orbit launches a series called Living With the Dead by Jesse Petersen. Book 1, Married With Zombies (coming in September), follows a married couple on the verge of divorce whose marriage counselor turns out to be a zombie. The follow-up, Flip This Zombie, comes out in January 2011. According to the catalog copy, “the couple that slays together, stays together.” Cue laugh track.

Building on their success with Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, tiny (and eccentric) publisher Quirk Books will publish Night of the Living Trekkies by Kevin Anderson and Sam Stall in September. The story follows a group of Trekkies, dressed as their favorite characters, at a Star Trek convention that is attacked by a horde of zombies. You know you want to read it.

The young adult market also has zombie fever. In September, look for Zombies Vs. Unicorns (Simon & Schuster) edited by Holly Black and Justine Larbalestier; it’s a collection of short stories about, you guessed it, zombies and unicorns. In October, Jonathan Maberry’s Rot and Ruin (Simon & Schuster) tells the story of a teenager growing up in a zombie-infested America.

2. Steampunk: When Victorian Machines Attack

Another trend in fantasy this fall is steampunk — a growing genre (and subculture) in which Victorian-era machines and technology (you know, steam-powered stuff) intersect with magic. Think Sherlock Holmes (the recent movie starring Robert Downey, Jr.), and add something paranormal: magicians, vampires, etc.

Cherie Priest’s Dreadnought (Tor), the follow-up to her Boneshaker (which featured zombies, by the way), comes out this September. In October, Felix Gilman’s The Half-Made World (Tor) reimagines the American West as a fantasy epic.

And in the YA category, two much-anticipated steampunk adventures await. Cassandra Clare’s The Clockwork Angel, the first in a companion series to her bestselling Mortal Instruments (Simon & Schuster), comes out in August. And Scott Westerfeld’s Behemoth, the sequel to Leviathan, comes out in October.

3. Young Adult: Teens Have All the Fun

As you may have noticed, YA is everywhere in fantasy this season. One of the most interesting things I noticed at BEA was the fact that all the big buzz books were YA — there was a distinct lack of buzz in the adult fantasy genre.

Within the YA category, the biggest fantasy releases are all about angels. I don’t mean sparkly, happy angels with white wings; no, I mean fallen angels. Who become your extremely sexy boyfriend. For example, there’s Torment by Lauren Kate (Random House, Sept. 2010), the sequel to Fallen (fallen angels in reform school). And there’s Crescendo by Becca Fitzpatrick (Simon & Schuster, Nov. 2010), the sequel to her bestelling Hush, Hush (fallen angels in the country). Alexandra Adornetto’s Halo (Feiwel & Friends, Aug. 2010) features a girl angel instead of a boy.

Not into angels? Firelight by Sophie Jordan (HarperTeen, Sept. 2010) is about a girl who can shapeshift into a dragon, and “her dangerous romance with the boy whose family hunts her” (according to the publisher). And then there’s Paranormalcy (HarperTeen, Oct. 2010), about an otherwise normal girl who works for the International Paranormal Containment Agency. Oh yeah; her ex-boyfriend is a fairy and she’s falling in love with a shapeshifter.

Most of the lead YA titles appear to be chasing the popularity of Twilight, but the jury is out on whether angels, even fallen ones, can defeat vampires.

4. High Fantasy: Kind of at a Low Point

Despite the fact that the penultimate novel of Robert Jordan’s monumental Wheel of Time series is coming out this fall — Towers of Midnight by Robert Jordan and Brandon Sanderson (Tor, Oct. 2010) — there was mighty little buzz about traditional high fantasy at this year’s BEA. In fact, during my time on the show floor, I couldn’t even find representatives from two of the major genre publishers, Tor and Del Rey. (Admittedly, everyone agreed that this year BEA was much smaller than in the past, and limited to two days instead of three.)

That said, HBO’s upcoming adaptation of George R. R. Martin’s Game of Thrones may be poised to inject some buzz into the high fantasy genre. And even though publishers weren’t pushing big fantasy epics this fall, their catalogs still contain them — from Tad Williams‘ Shadowheart (Daw, Nov. 2010) to the Black Library’s Warhammer books, which continue to sell epic fantasy mayhem around the world.

5. The Bottom Line: Fantasy is Crossing Genres

For me, the biggest takeaway from BEA regarding fantasy is this: Buzz happens to books that cross genres. Fantasy + Horror = Zombies. Fantasy + History + Early Tech = Steampunk. Fantasy + Romance = Paranormal Romance.

It’s no wonder that YA tends to generate some of the biggest buzz, because YA crosses genres all the time. Like steampunk or paranormal romance, it gives readers who might not otherwise read “fantasy” a number of hooks to grab onto.

What fantasy novels are you looking forward to this year? And can anyone really stop the zombie apocalypse?

Malinda Lo is the author of the Lambda-nominated teen fantasy novel Ash. Visit her website.

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Four and a half Torches (Out of Five)

With Dragon Haven, the follow-up to Dragon Keeper, Robin Hobb is back in fine form!

Actually, I suppose she was always in fine form — Dragon Haven and Dragon Keeper were meant to be one book, but the manuscript got too unwieldy and the publisher decided to split it in half. Maybe it’s more accurate to say that the second half of the Rain Wilds Chronicles is the reason fantasy fans have been lining up to buy Robin Hobb’s books for the last 15 years.

Dragon Haven picks up from the abrupt ending of its predecessor: A band of ragamuffin hunters and keepers are trekking through the Wilds with a group of misfit dragons, hoping to lead them to the ancient city of Kelsingra.

While the first book in the Rain Wilds chronicles was laden with character development and a sense of moving the pieces into place, Dragon Haven is where the real journey begins. Does the mythical city of Kelsingra even exist? Will the dragons and their keepers ever heal from their physical and emotional limitations? Who is the mole within the core group? Will they keep the traditions of their old society intact or form new customs?

I mentioned this is my review of Dragon Keeper, but it’s always so striking that it’s worth noting again: Robin Hobb creates some of the most complex, conflicted, authentic characters in any fantasy universe. What I love about Hobb’s characters isn’t just that they’re layered, but that all of them — from the main players to the supporting cast to the dragons — grow and change over the course of her stories to meet the challenges they’re faced with.

If I had one complaint about Dragon Haven, it would be a lack of any kind of action (except a flood). The plot is tight and quick without any major battles or disasters, but Hobb writes them so well, and in a way that gives most of her stories a greater sense of urgency, that it seems like a shame not to have included any this volume. It would have been interesting to see this group handle external conflict as a team, to see how it could have changed their dynamic.

Aside from the fully-realized characters, there’s plenty of other Hobb trademarks in Dragon Haven. The setting is so lush and dense that it feels like the Rain Wilds are a character all their own. And, of course, there’s the prose. Hobb has such a refreshing way with words, with turns of phrase, even with dialogue. It’s why she can get away with writing less action in an action-thirsty genre. She is, at times, mesmerizing in Dragon Haven.

Dragon Keeper and Dragon Haven do not work as standalone volumes. They need to be read together to be appreciated, and, frankly, to be understood. It’s a hefty tome if you consider the books together, but it’s definitely worth the time.

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Three Torches (Out of Five)

Full disclosure: I’m not a huge fan of “novelizations” — usually quickly-done novels based on popular movies or TV shows.

That said, while they’ve never gotten much respect in critical or literary worlds, novelizations have their place in the greater world, especially among uber-fans of whatever show or movie is being novelized.

A new Supernatural novelization, Supernatural: The Unholy Cause, will probably satisfy these fans — but I can’t imagine it will get them too excited either.

The book is set at some point in Season 5 — Sam has released Lucifer from his prison, but the Apocalypse hasn’t yet officially started.

The boys visit a Civil War reenactment where the “reenacting” is frightening real: people are dying, in a way much like soldiers really did in a battle over a hundred years earlier. It turns out there are ancient artifacts at work here, and a group of demons who are up to no good. The brothers, of course, must put a stop to it all.

In a way, novelizations are a bit of a “cheat,” because the characterizations — which are among the most difficult part of any novel — are all firmly preestablished. But there’s a danger there too: the author of the novelization must effectively capture characters that fans love and know very, very well.

Here author Joe Schreiber does a fine job. Dean really sounds like Dean, Sam sounds like Sam, and Castiel is there for (sometimes very funny) comic relief. (Sam and Dean present themselves as “Agents Townes and Van Zandt.”)

But it must be said: we don’t really learn anything new about any of them. (Part of me suspects this must be required, that when authors sign novelization contracts, they must agree to follow a list of very specific conditions.)

And the story itself? It passable, and it does read like an episode of the series, although a pretty by-the-numbers one. I did like the appearance of one of the thirty pieces of silver paid to Judas, now, naturally, an evil artifact.

Bottom line? If you’re a die-hard Supernatural fan, desperate for a “forgotten” stand-alone episode of the show, you could probably do worse.

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Three and a Half Torches (Out of Five)

To marshal in the third season of True Blood (June 13), Charlaine Harris‘ tenth Sookie Stackhouse novel, Dead in the Family, was released this week. There’s even a mention of the True Blood theme song playing in Merlotte’s, in case you thought all that HBO money sitting in Harris’ bank account had escaped her notice.

Weirdly enough, Dead in the Family feels like the second book/movie in a trilogy, the filler that exposits what happened in the first book/movie and goes about the tedious task of moving chess pieces in place for the next book/movie. Harris is beloved for her ability to write romance and action equally well, but there wasn’t much of either in this book.

Now that the Faery War is over, Shreveport is dealing with the fallout. Everyone has lost loved ones, and Sookie, especially, is having a hard time with her grief. Her emotional turmoil and Harris’ exploration of what truly constitutes a family/pack are the central themes of the book, the only threads that seem to make a cohesive narrative out of the other storylines.

Eric is trying adjust to the new Vampire King, who has trained his eye on Eric and Sookie. In the absence of any real, well, action in their story as a couple, Eric’s lines are colored in with plenty of exposition. Poor Bill — if you’re the kind of person who can work up sympathy for Bill — is still on the mend after being silver poisoned.

The middle chunk of Dead in the Family is all politics: Were vs. Vamp, Government vs. Shifters, and inter-family power struggles. While it’s probably necessary to delve into those topics if you want a fully fleshed-out Sookie-verse, the meandering certainly didn’t provide the urgency that usually causes readers to tear through Harris’ books in one sitting.

Sookie’s new catchphrase is “Geez Louise!” is very Sookie, but her wide eyes and plucky tenacity are darkened considerably by the end of Dead in the Family.

As always, Harris explains the entire Sookie-verse to help out new readers, but this one really isn’t for the uninitiated. I confess to not having read all ten Sookies, but I’m an avid reader; rarely does a series book introduce themes and plots I can’t pick up on. Dead in the Family makes me think I should really start from the beginning if I want the real Shreveport experience. Of course, I’ve read enough Sookie to know that there’s no way in hell I’d want her kind of “real Shreveport experience.”

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Four and a Half Torches (Out of Five)

As an author myself, I understand why authors famous for one genre or style yearn to try something completely different: it’s frustrating to write variations on the same story again and again (and all smart writers know that, after a while, the law of diminishing returns sets in, and what seemed fresh and exciting in the first few books can start to seem tired and recycled).

That said, as a reader, I’m as frustrated as anyone when a favorite writer insists on trying different genres and stories that just don’t speak to me.

I’ve long been a fan of Jacqueline Carey’s fantasy, especially her Kushiel books and her latest Naamah series.

I’m happy to report that Santa Olivia, a non-fantasy book she released last year (that I somehow missed) is among the best books she’s ever written, despite being very different from her other work.

Set in a future dystopia United States, the town of Santa Olivia is a warzone where people have no money, no future, and no rights. But soon a girl is soon born, Loup Garon, with an extra-human strength: she’s the daughter of a genetically-modified father who escaped the US military that was attempting to use him as a weapon. Eventually, she’s orphaned, but growing up surrounded by other forsaken kids in the local orphanage, she starts to herself as the “savior” of this forgotten town — and even starts to act as a vigilante named after Santa Olivia, the town’s patron saint.

By the time she reaches her teenage years, Loup has a chance to leave Santa Olivia for good — not to mention fight back against those who destroyed her parents. But it could come at the cost of leaving everything she holds dear, including her beloved brother and her girlfriend.

This is Carey’s most straightforward, linear book, not a sprawling epic like most of her other work. All her books are readable, but this one has a leanness and a focus that very much works with her style.

(And it must be said: as a book reviewer, it’s also nice not to be faced with yet another 1000-page fantasy tome!).

It’s always great to read a well-written, solidly-plotted book, but it’s even more impressive when it’s the work of author who normally writes in a different style and different genre. If only more authors were this successfully versatile.

My only quibble? I loved a minor sub-plot about the kids-as-vigilantes (with Loup at the center, and the other kids acting as her “support”), and I wish that had been a bigger part of the book.

For the record, a sequel to this book is in the works, out in 2011.

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Four Torches (Out of Five)

In the new novel Spellwright by Blake Charlton (Tor Books, $24.99), 25 year-old Nicodemus Weal is an apprentice mage at a school for wizards, in a land where magic requires rune-like spells that are physically real and can be spelled out by those with the right ability.

The problem? Nicodemus, who once showed great promise with magic, now can’t ever seem to spell the words correctly. When he tries, disaster always results –  so much so that he’s been classified as a “cacographer” and given only menial tasks.

Is he just cursed, or does he have a deeper purpose? Some markings on his back  suggest that he could be the wizard prophesied to prevent an apocalypse — but even they aren’t spelled quite right.

Then an important mage is murdered, setting in motion all manner of intrigue and danger, including accusations that both Nicodemus and his mentor Shannon are responsible for the crime.

This is a clever idea for a fantasy novel, and in the author’s bio, we learn that the author himself suffers from dyslexia, giving the book an added poignancy.

The author clearly overcame his disability, apparently in part because of a passion for fantasy novels, going on to become an English teacher and a medical student at Standford University School of Medicine — not to mention writing this pretty terrific novel.

The plot is tight with some nicely unexpected reveals along the way, and the ending is particularly satisfying. But it must be said that the characters — earnest, but frustrated young wizard destined for great things and mentor-with-a-secret-past — are pretty standard-issue for a fantasy novel.

Meanwhile, I initially had a bit of a hard time visualizing the actual mechanics of the world’s magic: literal magic words are created by the twitching of muscles, taking actual shape to be wielded and manipulated. If you stick with it, all becomes clear, but it’s never quite seamless.

Still, this is a solid, enjoyable read, and the real-world implications give it an added resonance.

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Four Torches (Out of Five)

Elizabeth Moon is a hero in the sci-fi and fantasy publishing industries, largely because she has been able to move so easily between the classic expectations of each genre. 20 years ago, Moon completed The Deed of Paksenarrion trilogy, and after publishing dozens of other successful titles, she has finally returned to the land of Paks with Oath of Fealty.

There’s a bit of time-overlap between Oath of Fealty and Oath of Gold, but Moon’s new novel deals with the events from an entirely different angle: The quest is over. Now what?

After Paks discovered him as the hidden heir to the Elven Throne in the last book, Kieri Phelan has assumed the position of ruler over Lyonya. Kieri only has a trace of actual Elven blood and he was raised as a regal mercenary captain, so the peaceful customs of his newly acquired subjects are completely foreign to him.

Kieri is also in the unique position of replacing himself as a duke, and he chooses Dorrin Verraki, a captain in his army, for the post. She is the first woman on whom the title of “duke” ever been bestowed. By accepting, she is forced return a land she deserted years ago, where she must deal with the enigmatic and dark legacy of her family.

Moon is a master at writing strong, authentic female characters. She did it with Paks in the first trilogy, and she’s done it with Dorrin in this one. Moon is also quite adept at battle scenes; there are some breath-holding ones in Fealty.

However, most of Fealty deals with internal politics and character exposition. I confess that I prefer my magic with a side of quest as opposed to diplomatic power struggles, but Moon was able to hold my attention through every minute detail.

In fact, the entire time I was reading, I kept thinking about the heft and bore of Brisingr, the third book in Christopher Paolini’s Inheritance Series, and how he needs some serious coaching about fantasy politics from Elizabeth Moon.

You could read and enjoy Oath of Fealty even if you’ve never read the other books in the Deed of Paksenarrion trilogy, but my guess is that you’ll go back and read them anyway, while you’re waiting for the follow-up to Fealty.

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Four Torches (Out of Five)

Imagine that you try to save someone’s life, but she ends up dying anyway. Making matters worse, the police think it may be murder, and consider you a person of interest.

Lily Ivory finds herself in this nightmare situation in Secondhand Spirits by Juliet Blackwell. This is the first book in a new mystery series called Witchcraft Mystery.

Lily is a witch, and magic is heavily woven into the plot of the book. The added bonus — the “gimmick,” if you will — is that part of the magic is, according to an author’s note, based on interviews with “real life witches.”

Lily feels like an outsider, the result of being a witch. She’s drifted around the world for years, ever since being forced to leave her home town. Now she’s in San Francisco, where she hopes to establish roots. This gets threatened by the mysterious death, particularly when the police start checking her past.

In addition to the mysterious death, she gets involved in investigating the mysterious disappearance of a young girl, apparently the latest in a long line of children who’ve vanished from one neighborhood and never been seen again.

The plot is good. It’s not as neatly-crafted a puzzle as an Agatha Christie novel — although, let’s face it, very few writers reach that standard. But the plot is always interesting, and there is genuine suspense as to how it will turn out.

But what really makes this book, I think, is the character development of Lily. She’s an interesting character, and there’s a sense of depth and history. By the end of the book, I felt I’d only barely gotten to know her (unlike some books that make me feel like I know everything I’ll ever know about their oh-so-simple main character by the end of page two!).

Supporting characters don’t strike me as being quite as deep as Lily, but they are believable and have some depth. The secondary characters who impress me the most are the men. Often, mystery series that star a woman have men who are one dimensional cardboard cutouts who do little more than show up in time to bash the murderer over the head as he threatens the heroine’s life.

The highest compliment I can pay this book is this: I got this book as “light reading” for when I commute on the bus. I started reading it on my way home. When I got home, instead of setting it aside for the next day, I kept reading.

Pick it up. It’s a magically good mystery.

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Four Torches (Out of Five)

Every time Holly Black’s short stories show up in an anthology, critics always say the same thing: grim, lush, deeply-imagined fantasy.

The Poison Eaters: and Other Stories is her first solo collection, and because it only includes two new tales — “Going Ironside” and “The Land of Heart’s Desire” — I wasn’t expecting to be entirely overwhelmed by it. But I read/reread all 12 stories in one sitting because Black is a skilled wordsmith and her stories are even better piled together in a heap of dark magic.

Black’s short stories are billed as Modern Faeire Tales, which as an apt description because of the vampires and elves and unicorns and anthropomorphism. Yet, even though the themes are consistent, every story is delicious on its own.

(Warning: Mild spoilers below.)

“The Coldest Girl in Cold Town” introduces a homeless, alcoholic teenager who has to stay liquored up so she doesn’t give into her vampire cravings — a total bummer for the guys who want to roofie her at the beginning of the story. (”Let me spell it out: if you don’t get me some alcohol, I am going to bite you.”).

The teenagers in “A Reversal of Fortune” and “The Night Market” take a cue from The Charlie Daniel’s Band and makes actual deals with the devil. Instead of golden fiddles, though, it’s saving pets by an eating competition. And saving lives by entering into pacts with faeires.

“The Dog King” is an age-old quest that will have you rooting for the villain.

“Virgin” tells the complex and tragic story of a teenage junkie who is the kind of handsome that “girls draw obsessively in the corners of their notebooks.” And “The Coat of Stars” is a whole other kind of tragedy that explores the life of a closeted gay fashion designer.

“In Vodka Veritas” is light-hearted and a winner, simply because of the truth of the title.

In “Going Ironside” faeires try to get humans to impregnate them.

“The Poison Eaters” is about three sisters who are poisonous to the touch.

My favorite story in the collection is “Paper Cuts Scissors,” because it’s one of those rare love stories to both readers and writers, and it has the unique gift of not being overly-indulgent. (It’s easy territory to fall into when magical authors are writing about magical readers.) The main character in “Paper Cuts Scissors” has the gift of putting stuff into (and taking stuff out of) books, so that the plot is custom-fitted for whoever is reading it.

After a fight, the main character’s girlfriend thrusts herself into a Russian novel and he has to find the exact book she used to get her out again. There’s a definite Inkheart feel to it, but it’s different enough to be exciting.

The only complaint I have about Black’s stories is that they don’t really have the timeless feel of some other modern fairy retellings (like Malinda Lo’s Ash, for example). The stories are marketed toward teenagers, and while I think actual adults will enjoy the texture and depth, they probably will resonate more with younger audience (unlike Malinda Lo’s Ash, which is written for a young adult audience, but is a goer for all ages.) (Btw, I think you should read Ash. Can you tell?)

Holly Black is a gift to the fantasy genre. She makes reading fun for young people. And she makes sleeping a little harder for everyone.

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