Speculative Fiction Series: Some of my favorites

TODAY: Favorite Speculative Fiction Series

The second of three posts: Classic series, Some of my Favorites (today), Problem series

And so hard to decide! Here are some favorites. I’m adding a third post in a day or two with series I find problematic. Strangely, among those problematic series are some of my favorite reads. So wait for it, and realize “problematic” doesn’t necessarily mean “bad” or DNF.

Note: as you’ll notice, I’m a U.S. reader, and some of my thoughts about these books arise from that. Also, this is a blog, not some scholarly treatise, so it’s full of my own opinions. Yours may vary!

A FEW FAVORITES

I’m listing them alphabetically by author because I can never decide which I love most.

First Law, Joe Abercrombie (b. 1974)

Find out more HERE.

What a great series! Start with Book One, The Blade Itself. If you love dark fantasy, and a lot of violence, and you haven’t read these books, you have a treat in store. You will discover some great characters in The First Law series and all of its spin-offs. Logen Ninefingers (say one thing for Logen, he’s a great character)! The Dogman (not THAT Dogman lol), and his strange and intriguing daughter Rikke! Inquisitor Glokta, one of the best, most complex villains ever written, and his by turns hard-nosed and appealing daughter Savine! The hapless Orso! The amazing warrior woman Monzcarro! It’s hard to stop listing them. They just keep coming. There’s plenty of action, sometimes seeming like a cross between action film and comic book, but always a thrill. The plotting is great, featuring lots of magic and other favorite fantasy tropes, but the plots also make their own fascinating commentary on history, from Viking Age medieval settings through to the beginnings of the Industrial Revolution–even reflecting obliquely on our own times. See my earlier review here. But I think the characters are what make this trilogy, the two follow-up series, and all of the series-adjacent novels in the world of the First Law among the best I’ve read. Abercrombie is touring right now to introduce The Devils, book one of a new series. If he comes to your area and if you are as big a fan as I am, go to this event! I’m all signed up for one here in Albuquerque, on May 15th. Because I’m a writer based in the U.S., my link is to the U.S. tour, but there is a European tour as well. NOTE: I’m a reader of books, not a listener, but friends of mine who consume their fantasy via audiobook tell me the narrator of Abercrombie’s books is superb.

The Long Price Quartet, Daniel Abraham (b. 1969)

Find out more HERE.

Abraham has written other fantasy novels in other series, and as half of the team calling itself James S. A. Corey, he co-writes the hugely popular novels on which the Hugo-Award-winning SF streaming series The Expanse is based. I love The Long Price Quartet most, though. Its South Asian-inspired setting is fascinating. The tetralogy gains true depth and verisimilitude through its focus on economics and technology as factors just as important as military action when nation-states collide. And–unlikely as it sounds!–poetry. All the characters are wonderful, but his character Seedless has to be one of the most ingenious literary creations I’ve ever encountered in the pages of fiction. These books are entertaining, but they are deep, not the usual an orc a wizard and an elf walk into a castle stuff. I got introduced to these novels through a great short story by Abraham, “The Meaning of Love,” published in the anthology Rogues and was grabbed right away by its unusual setting, very similar to the one in The Long Price Quartet. See my review here for more thoughts about this amazing four-book series and how it truly is a series for our dangerous times.

The Culture, Iain Banks (1954-2013)

Find the books HERE.

Can I call this a series? Let me call this a series! It’s one of the greatest bunch of novels–all related–I’ve ever read. The writing is superb. The events of these ten SF novels take place over millennia but in the same universe, and from time to time, story-lines and characters intersect. The world-building is masterful. Which is my favorite? It’s so hard to pick. Consider Phlebas, the first I read, completely blew me away, but is it the best? They’re all great. Consider Phlebas was the kind of book that drove me right out to buy every single one of the author’s other books–an experience I haven’t had since my Patrick O’Brian craze. The order of reading can be a bit difficult to discern. Here’s a web site that can help with that, and here’s one with a slightly different take. Another consideration: the Amazon web site lists nine books, but there is actually another one. I usually read e-books, but I needed to order two of the books, used in paperback, to get all of them. That situation may have changed by now. Banks, who died in 2013, was a prolific writer not only of these amazing SF books but of realistic fiction as well, and his realistic novels are equally celebrated. I’ve blogged about Banks before, here, and here, and here. He’s apparently the favorite writer of several would-be oligarchs, but I can’t help that. He’s great.

Parable of the Sower/Parable of the Talents, Octavia Butler (1947-2006)

Find out more HERE.

Butler’s duo of novels is so prescient, so important to American readers in their depiction of a dystopia we seem to be approaching at warp-speed, that it is practically a crime not to read them. In fact, The Parable of the Sower, published in 1993, imagines a 2024 that cut much too close to the truth, and 2025 seems to be getting worse. In our current dystopic climate, her novels–and especially this one–are on a number of banned book lists. Why do certain readers find them disturbing–because they do cut too close to the truth? and these readers don’t want to know the truth, or find it somehow threatening? Fiction doesn’t exist to sooth overly-sensitive souls stuck in their own world-views. I personally think fiction is prophetic–good fiction–in its capacity to speak truth to power. That doesn’t mean you have to be sucked down the rabbit hole of just anyone’s fiction. You need to exercise your critical judgment, as with anything else. As Plato pointed out long ago and as Hitler’s propagandists demonstrated, fictions do present the danger that they can mislead or even corrupt if you read or consume them, or any information, uncritically. So exercise your critical judgment here, and engage your empathy. Studies have shown that readers of fiction actually enhance their capacity for empathy, which is the quality that helps human beings act in a caring and fair way instead of simply lusting after power and advantage, the strong over the weak. (The novel’s main character is a person who struggles because she has too much empathy–and then she triumphs because of it.) Butler’s novels are good fiction, well-written and thought-provoking. Look around you. You’ll probably see her warnings coming to life before your very eyes. What a tragedy she died so young, before she could give us more novels as important as these, such as a planned third novel in the series. What a tragedy we don’t have any further wisdom from her to help us navigate through this troubled moment in our history.

The Farseer Trilogy, Robin Hobb (b. 1952)

Original cover art. Source: Wikipedia. Copyright is a bit uncertain–Spectra (US), or cover artist Michael Whelan.

How to have fun reading fantasy. These are the kinds of books you might have read as a kid, under the covers with a flashlight. The kinds of books you want to binge before a fire with a cup of hot chocolate. By that, I don’t mean that these books are “cozy.” They just give you that thrilling feeling you get when you go to a rousing good movie and the credits begin to roll. This first Farseer trilogy, and many other related novels all set in the author’s imagined Realm of the Elderlings, are a treat to read. What great characters–especially the two that drive the series, Fitz, a boy of mysterious parentage who becomes an assassin, and the enigmatic Fool. Who is the Fool? What is the Fool? The quest for identity elevates these novels above others that simply go for the adventure. In several interlocking series, the Farseer novels entice the reader into an entire richly-realized world of magic, dragons, warfare, pirates, palace conspiracy, you name it. Every fantasy situation, character, and trope a fantasy reader could want, with good writing into the bargain. Catnip to cats. Visit Robin Hobb’s web site to find out more. With such a far-ranging fantasy world, reading order becomes important. Here’s a good guide.

The Life and Times of Corban Loosestrife, Cecelia Holland (b. 1942)

Find them HERE.

Holland, a highly acclaimed writer of historical fiction, turned to historical fantasy in this series, but the history is very accurate. The six novels of the series cover the full range of Viking Age exploration, beginning with young Corban Loosestrife’s exile from his home in Ireland after Viking raiders murder most of his family members and make off with his twin sister. In his quest to find his sister, Corban heads west, ending up in North America. The first three books, The Soul Thief, The Witches’ Kitchen, and The Serpent Dreamer, take us through Corban’s adventures in the 10th Century British Isles, Scandinavia, and North America. The last three, Varanger, The High City, and Kings of the North, follow Corban’s son and nephew on their own journey, beginning with the part of the world later to be known as Russia, to Constantinople, and then back to Britain. At first, I was entertained by these books but not enthralled. Around Book IV, I began to be enthralled. My problem, paradoxically, was my love of two of her best stand-alone novels, Floating Worlds (SF–see my review here) and Until the Sun Falls (historical fiction). They are both superb. But eventually the mixture of history, magic, and legend in the Corban Loosestrife series grabbed me and didn’t let go. Holland is a very prolific writer. While I haven’t loved every book of hers I’ve read, Floating Worlds and Until the Sun Falls are two of my favorite books ever, and I ended up getting deeply attached to the Corban Loosestrife characters and settings. Her body of work is rich and complex, and most of her novels are historical fiction. I always maintain historical fiction is just another kind of speculative fiction, but my blog isn’t really about that, so I’ll leave it alone.

Imperial Radich, Ann Leckie (b. 1966)

Find out more HERE.

Leckie’s Imperial Radch series, which won the 2024 Hugo Award for best series, includes Hugo and Nebula Award winner Ancillary Justice and the sequels Ancillary Sword, and Ancillary Mercy. These intricately plotted and beautifully detailed SF novels do an outstanding job of exploring alien consciousnesses, worlds and times and customs very distant from ours, and making us believe they are real. She uses the trope of the sentient ship to great effect. These become people we care about, not just machines. When the humanoid world of the main characters comes into conflict with an almost unimaginably alien opponent, the tension rises. I have to confess, when I read the first book of the series, I didn’t just fall in love with it. See my review here. Partly that’s because I don’t particularly like the sentient ship trope (except in Wall-E!) Partly that’s because reading is a weird process. You might read a book but not be in the right mood for that particular book. Have you ever had that experience? When Leckie’s series won the Hugo for best series last year, I decided I needed a re-do. I re-read Ancillary Justice and blitzed right on through the other two. I came away struck dumb with admiration. What a great series! I’m glad I made myself re-read that first book. Actually, once I got started on my re-read, I didn’t need any “making myself.” I zipped right along, completely enthralled. Other series-adjacent books further extend the great world-building of the main trilogy. Leckie’s recently-published Translation State, a series-adjacent and very fine novel, was short-listed for the 2024 Nebula award. See my review here.

New Croubozon, China Miéville (b. 1972)

Find out more HERE.

Miéville is a one-of-a-kind writer. He writes speculative fiction, but no one quite knows how to categorize it. Bizarro? Slipstream? New Weird? Whatever you call it, it’s brilliant, and his novels have won every major speculative fiction award out there. He explores a world parallel to ours full of the extreme and the strange, yet these fictional worlds pull our focus right back to our own time and place and our own difficulties. A number of series-adjacent novels are set in the same world. It is strangely parallel to our own world–and strangely not. None of New Croubozon books are exactly sequels, although some characters show up in more than one of the novels. Perdido Street Station is the one most like a horror novel. The Scar (my personal favorite) has plenty of weird stuff but deeply-imagined characters who behave like actual human beings, not cardboard cutouts, with the complex motivations that the best fictional characters exhibit. The Iron Council is actually more of an enormous prose poem than a novel, so reader beware if you don’t like that kind of thing. I do, although it seemed a bit excessive here. Miéville’s writing rivals the best today, in any genre, and it’s all not only brilliant speculative fiction but brilliant social commentary. My other favorites are his stand-alone novels Embassytown, which I need to re-read, and The City and the City. Note: See above, about oligarchs loving the books I love noooooo. Here‘s what Mieville has to say about that. Now I feel better. And worse.

His Dark Materials, Philip Pullman

Find out more HERE. Book cover of first edition, presented here under Fair Use doctrine, source: Wikipedia.

Pullman’s series is the anti-Narnia. Some readers will like that; others will distrust it. Whatever you think about that, the trilogy is the gripping saga of a young girl on a quest to rescue her imperiled friends in the steampunk-flavored England of a parallel universe. During her journey of discovery, she begins to figure out what her mysterious uncle is up to, and whether he is threatening the collapse of the world. Is he a dark force or a hero? And who is she, anyway? Her story is also a quest for identity. The first book, The Golden Compass (titled Northern Lights in the U.K.), was made into a disappointing movie, sadly for the many readers who adore Pullman’s books. They have a great follow-up series to console them: The Book of Dust. If the Narnia books were inspired in part by Milton and Spenser, here’s the William Blake version of Milton, “Milton is of the Devil’s party and doesn’t know it” (see this and this). The first series seems at first glance to be a book for children, and Pullman has indeed written many children’s books. But His Dark Materials–while it does have talking armored polar bears and the like–is more than that, certainly far more than an entertaining story for children, and the second series takes the main character into young adulthood. Both series deal with some big ideas about the nature of authority, the composition of the universe, and matters of good and evil. Pullman himself has disdained the distinction between literature for children and any other kind, and he rejects the label “atheist” while exploring a complex approach to religion that make a lot of orthodox Christians turn pale.

The Mars Trilogy, Kim Stanley Robinson (b. 1952)

Find it (and the other two volumes of the trilogy) HERE.

Wow, what a series. Even my persnickety physicist son-in-law loves these books, and he hates any SF that tries to sneak physical impossibilities and goofy improbabilities past the reader. This, in spite of the books being written in the ’90s–and so to some extent dated. But Robinson is one of the most intriguing writers today, and these books are powerful. Nebula Award-winning Red Mars (1992) is the first, then Hugo and Locus Award-winning Green Mars (1993) and Blue Mars (1996). As the red planet becomes increasingly terraformed, the explorers who have settled on the planet must deal with the vast physical problems they’ve set out to solve, but also the thorny and terrible sociological and political–and personal–problems arising from their decisions. Meanwhile, those left to struggle on a dying, dysfunctional Earth play their own part in a tense, evolving political quagmire. Okay, and then go on to The Ministry for the Future (2020) and prepare to be devastated. Or any of his other novels.

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Valentine Week 2025: Fairytale Fantasy, Day Three

This year’s theme: RED RIDING HOOD

A reminder–The novels I’ll review during this year’s Fairytale Fantasy series:

Red Rider, by Kate Avery Ellison (2019, indie-published)—reviewed HERE

Wolves and Daggers: A Red Riding Hood Retelling, by Melanie Karsak (2018, indie published–Clockpunk Press, which seems to be owned by the author)–TODAY’S REVIEWED NOVEL

Beauty and the Werewolf, by Mercedes Lackey (2011, Harlequin Nocturne)

Crimson Bound, by Rosamund Hodge (2015, HarperCollins)

Scarlet, by Marissa Meyer (2013, Macmillan)

For the Wolf, by Hannah Whitten (2021, Orbit)

And finally: a medley of interesting outlier pieces, all based on Little Red

TODAY’S REVIEWED NOVEL

Wolves and Daggers: A Red Riding Hood Retelling, by Melanie Karsak (2018, indie-published)

Karsak’s novel, the second Red Riding Hood-themed novel I’m reviewing during Valentine’s Week 2025, is the first in a five-book series, The Red Cape Society. From Amazon, you can buy Wolves and Daggers (book 1) in paperback and in e-book format through the Kindle app and devices, and you can also buy the whole series either volume by volume or as a box set in either format. Apple Books and Barnes & Noble sell Wolves and Daggers in ebook format. Apple sells only book 1 of the series, but Barnes & Noble will also sell you a box set–only of books 1-3, though. Barnes & Noble will sell you an audiobook version, but only Book 1. If you like to consume your fantasy via audiobook, you are out of luck if you want the whole series as far as I know. This may change, or I may have missed a source, so check for yourself.

Karsak’s novel is a very clever gaslamp retelling of Little Red Riding Hood in the form of a detective story. Little Red herself is part of a Victorian detective agency charged with reining in criminal bands of werewolves. There are also good, helpful werewolves. Of course there is a grandmother, and of course there is a red cape (“The Red Cape Society” is the name of the detective agency, as well as the title of Karsak’s series).

You may have a question, if you’ve never read one of these: What is gaslamp fiction?

This is a subgenre of speculative fiction set in a fantasy-Victorian or adjacent parallel time, with gloomy noirish settings, the iconic gaslamps, crazy mechanical contraptions (airships!), and guns typical of the era–very similar to steampunk SF. Read THIS ARTICLE for an illuminating explanation. Three great examples of the gaslamp/steampunk subgenres: Susanna Clarke’s Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell, Phillip Pullman’s His Dark Materials books, and China Miéville’s Perdido Street Station and the other two novels in his Bas-Lag trilogy. Karsak’s novel is very much lighter than those giants of speculative fiction (of any fiction, any time–my opinion), but her book is very short, almost novella-length, and it is a lot of fun.

As Agent Clemeny Louvel, aka Little Red, chases down the evil werewolves with the help of her detective partner and the good Knights Templar werewolf Sir Richard Lionheart, expect all sorts of in-jokes like the jokey chapter titles, an appearance by Queen Victoria herself, a continuing riff on the “oranges and lemons say the bells of St. Clements” rhyme, old-timey motorcars, jokes along the lines of “what big eyes you have” and “straying from the path.” Most fun of all, the name of the queen’s secret investigative service, The Rude Mechanicals.

Readers can also expect the usual werewolf lore involving a pack structure of Alpha and Beta wolves, silver as a surefire werewolf killer, and the like. I don’t know if the other books in the series go on to feature other members of “the unhuman,” but this first novel mentions a number of them, including goblins, vampires, and more. But what is it with werewolves and prizefighting? Is that a part of the lore I just don’t know about, or is it a coincidence that more than one of the books I’ve chosen this week uses prizefighting to underscore the feral power of werewolves? I may be too much of a werewolf novice to know.

The Red Riding Hood connection in this novel is more of a running joke than a true retelling, but it is very charming. The book is well-written but–well, I called it “light” but maybe “slight” is a better term for what I experienced. The characters aren’t terribly well-developed, and the plot is over in a flash (literally). I’m thinking the whole series develops these matters more thoroughly, though. I doubt I’ll read on–although I might, if only to see what the author does with the Rude Mechanicals, but I did enjoy this first volume, and I was very appreciative that the novel doesn’t simply stop. It forges a nice connection to the next in the series without hurling me headfirst off that annoying cliff. I’m figuring that in part this is because the series is not one huge extended uber-novel but a series of episodes nested in the overall Little Red concept.

On a personal note, I like how these first two novels I’ve reviewed are indie-published. If you don’t know a lot about the publishing industry, you may not know what that means. In the past, a writer would be published by one of the traditional publishing houses or not at all–self-publishing usually meant publication by one of the “vanity presses” that preys on clueless or disconsolate unpublished writers–still does, but back then, with even more success parting a would-be writer from her money with little or nothing to show for it. Today, four things have happened: through technology such as word processing, self-publishing has become a viable DIY way to produce a book; ebooks have become a big part of readers’ personal libraries and preferred ways of reading; emerging publishing platforms–Amazon’s Kindle and publishing-on-demand, Barnes & Noble’s Nook, Apple’s I-books, Kobo’s ebooks–accept indie-published books and present them alongside trad-published books to potential readers; and traditional publishers have undergone drastic consolidation and acquisition by conglomerates that don’t necessarily care about books. In the process, traditional publishers’ marketing and nurturing of all but their most celebrated authors have dwindled. You can read about it in this really informative blog post. A similar situation has happened in the recording industry. The problem with being indie-published (I am, so I know) is that an author doing this needs to be as good a marketer as she is a writer. There’s overlap between good writing and good marketing, but any individual author might not be equally good at both. Ask me how I know THAT!

I’m very pleased that two of the books featured in my blog this week come from indie authors. The featured writer for today, Melanie Karsak, also employs what is known as an “imprint”–a business name for her book publishing endeavor. For example, mine is Shrike Publications. But in Karsak’s case, she really does seem to have incorporated her imprint into a small business–a “boutique publishing company,” the web site calls it–Clockpunk Press. I should investigate to see if that’s how she has published all her books. There are many, and the ratings on Amazon for this first Red Riding Hood book are high.

NEXT UP, TOMORROW, as Fairytale Fantasy Week continues: Beauty and the Werewolf, by Mercedes Lackey

Valentine Week 2025: Fairytale Fantasy, Day Two

This year’s theme: RED RIDING HOOD

A reminder: The novels I’ll review during this year’s Fairytale Fantasy series

Red Rider, by Kate Avery Ellison (2019, indie-published)—TODAY’S REVIEWED NOVEL

Wolves and Daggers: A Red Riding Hood Retelling, by Melanie Karsak (2018, indie published–Clockpunk Press, which seems to be owned by the author)

Beauty and the Werewolf, by Mercedes Lackey (2011, Harlequin Nocturne)

Crimson Bound, by Rosamund Hodge (2015, HarperCollins)

Scarlet, by Marissa Meyer (2013, Macmillan)

For the Wolf, by Hannah Whitten (2021, Orbit)

And finally: a medley of interesting outlier pieces, all based on Little Red

TODAY’S REVIEWED NOVEL

Red Rider, by Kate Avery Ellison (2019, indie-published)

Find it HERE.

This Red Riding Hood-themed novel, classified as YA, is the first book of a series, The Sworn Saga. You can get it through Kindle Unlimited, if you subscribe, and in regular ebook, paperback, and audiobook formats. As far as I know, the book is available to readers ONLY on the Amazon platform, although if you get your fiction through listening, the audiobook is also available through Apple.

This novel’s marketing message claims the book is “a post-apocalyptic werewolf retelling of Red Riding Hood” and “Red Riding Hood meets the Handmaid’s Tale.” The first part of that message is at least superficially accurate. I think the second part is accurate, too, but only if you go on with the series. Since I have not, I can’t swear to that, but the novel makes it pretty clear that the story’s sequels are headed into Handmaid’s Tale territory–even though saying so is kind of like comparing My Golden Book of the Napoleonic Wars with War and Peace.

The world of this novel is set in a future where ordinary citizens have been subjugated to mutated werewolf humanoids. The werewolf females are barren, however, so the werewolf overlords mark certain human girls as mates. When the girls reach puberty, the werewolves take them for breeding stock. (Here’s where the Handmaid’s Tale comparison comes into play.) Meredith Rider is one of the unlucky girls (one of “the Sworn”) marked to be given to a werewolf mate. Werewolves kill her whole family and haul her off to fulfill her destiny. But Meredith, called Red for her red hair and the red, protective cloak her father has given her, is also plucky and resourceful, like all YA heroines. The plot proceeds from there.

The novel has other YA traits and tropes. It is written in the first person, presumably so young female readers can more readily identify with the main character. (Not judging–I’ve done it, too.) It establishes a tricky and interesting relationship situation thing between the main character and her male best friend, on the one hand, and the dominating werewolf known as the Silver Wolf, on the other. The way the author handles it becomes a fresh take on the good boy–dangerous but sexy bad boy trope common to YA novels.

The connection to the Red Riding Hood story only works at the very surface level. I thought at first the werewolf part was because werewolves have become so very popular in recent fantasy fiction, especially that subgenre called paranormal fantasy, but as I mentioned in my last post–while the paranormal fantasy angle may be very convenient marketing, it is also an undeniable and age-old aspect of the Red Riding Hood tale. A child’s casual acquaintance with the story rarely touches on this, but the folklore connection of Little Red with werewolves is sound. As for the rest: the name of the heroine, the grandmother, the red hood, the wolves–all part of the Red Riding Hood story, sure. If you read this novel, though, think about it–except for the werewolves, wouldn’t the story have worked just as well without the other Red Riding Hood trappings? I think it could have been a nice paranormal fantasy series with werewolves. So is the Red Riding Hood connection a marketing gimmick? I’m not sure. But I want to know, and not just because I’m some snarky reviewer! I am in the middle of writing a folklore-themed fantasy novel myself, so I am actually interested in the answer.

I thought the book was pretty well-written. I’m imagining a lot of YA readers will enjoy it. Unfortunately, it also has a hard cliffhanger ending to entice the reader to continue to the next book in the series, and I find that personally distasteful, a real bait-and-switch tactic. But plenty of readers must love this hook into the next volume of the series, so if you are one of them, you can ignore my prejudice here. At any rate, I won’t go on with the series. I feel cheated. I thought I was buying a novel only to discover I have bought a sixth of a novel. But if you love this kind of series, and you accept you are only reading the first installment of a super-novel, there are six installments to love, so go for it. I’m perfectly willing to accept that a long-form Netflix series will come out in seasons with cliffhangers at the end. Why can’t I accept it in books?

I’m very interested in this problem, though–not just as a reader but as a writer of fantasy series novels myself. I always try to wrap each novel up with a satisfying ending, even while suggesting there is more story to come. Am I successful? I hope so. But just stopping–as a reader, I hate that. I have been re-reading Patrick Rothfuss’s The Name of the Wind (because I’m always intrigued at how that novel works–I don’t think it really ought to, but it really, really does). Now there is a story that stops in the middle, right? Presumably, the book is a three-day marathon in which the main character, Kvothe, recounts his adventures to a scribe. Book One, The Name of the Wind, is Day One. Book Two, The Wise Man’s Fear, is Day Two. And Book Three. . . has never been published (written?), one of the big bad scandals of fantasy publishing, alongside other authors who have never finished their series, such as Scott Lynch with his unfinished Gentleman Bastards series and George R. R. Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire. In spite of the huge compulsion of the reader to go on breathlessly to Rothfuss’s sequel (and maybe–as many fans did–scream in protest when the third book was not forthcoming), I found The Name of the Wind–and its sequel as well– to be satisfying, complete novels. I didn’t feel cheated at the end of either one, and I don’t feel cheated not to have Book Three. Sad, though. Really, really sad!

NEXT UP, TOMORROW, as Fairytale Fantasy Week continues: Wolves and Daggers: A Red Riding Hood Retelling, by Melanie Karsak