September Book Reviews

September Book Reviews by D. Wallace Peach. She’s selected some of the best. 🙂

Myths of the Mirror

Another month of reviews

including some from my Autumn Reading Challenge
(which I’m already behind on – yeesh).

This month, my offering of  4 and 5 star reviews includes thrillers, humor, sci-fi, horror, short stories, and YA fantasy. I hope you enjoy the browse.

Click on the covers for Amazon global links.

*****

You Beneath Your Skin by Damyanti Biswas

This debut novel by Biswas travels at breakneck speed. Set in India, it deals with the atrocious and criminal practice of throwing acid in women’s faces. But that’s only one theme in this complex and engaging plot that kept me riveted from page one. I’m not surprised that this book is receiving so much acclaim.

A police investigation headed by Jitan Bhatt into the mutilations and murders of several women intersects with an acid attack on Anjali Morgan, his lover. Everything goes totally crazy, and I mean Totally Crazy, as…

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The Value of a Dime

from The Eye-Dancers

Eye-Dancers

In both The Eye-Dancers and The Singularity Wheel, Mitchell Brant, Joe Marma, Ryan Swinton, and Marc Kuslanski can’t help but notice how inexpensive things are in the variant town of Colbyville.  In The Singularity Wheel, in fact, Ryan manages to secure a room in an inn for just $5 a night.  Prices like that make the boys think of period-piece movies, Beaver Cleaver, black-and-white still lifes from a bygone era, speckled with cobwebs.

Indeed, I once worked with a woman who, every year, upon receiving her annual “cost-of’-living” raise, would grouse, “Well, three percent of nothing is still nothing!”  Many of the other employees would nod their heads in agreement.  We all notice the increase in prices ($4.49 for that box of cereal?  $10 for a standard book of twenty stamps?) and are caught in the current of escalation as it continues along on its…

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Asphalt and Retail

from Frank Morelli

Frank Morelli

I grew up in Laurel Springs, New Jersey but I always say “Philadelphia” when people ask where I’m from. It says so on my birth certificate and I’ll never budge on that. Plus, Laurel Springs is one of those suburban, cookie-cutter towns with a patchwork of four-lane highways bordered by strip malls, chain restaurants, and the intermittent, open pasture of a Little League field. I wasn’t always ashamed of it. I used to think it was the only place on Earth I’d ever live, back when my brother and I would hide from the summer sun under the shade of a massive oak in the front yard, and we’d roll our Matchbox cars up and down the winding super-network of roads provided by its gnarled root system.

But then came the road crews, and the engineering crews squinting behind their quirky tripods, and the tree service crews, and before you…

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