Measuring up to the plot’s low bar, the narrative too reads like low-grade fanfic, being laden with references to past events, characters who only supposedly died, and such lines as “a spurt of blood shot out from my forehead,” “they started falling at a rapid number,” and “is statement struck me on a number of levels.”Īwful on a number of levels-but tidily over at last.'Sarah is a strong female protagonist and the well-structured story is fast paced, while Whitmore's evocation of the period allows the readers to share the desperation of hard-working, decent people.' Kirkus Reviews Baldacci is plainly up on his ancient Greek theatrical conventions, however just as all hope is lost, a divinity literally descends from the ceiling to referee a winner-take-all duel, and thanks to an earlier ritual that (she and readers learn) gives her a do-over if she’s killed (a second deus ex machina!), Vega Jane comes away with a win…not to mention an engagement ring to go with the magic one that makes her invisible and a new dog, just like the one that died heroically. As Necro repeatedly proves to be both smarter and more powerful than Vega Jane, things generally go badly for the rebels, who end up losing their hidden refuge, many of their best fighters, and even the final battle. The rebellion against an evil archmage and his bowler-topped minions wends its way to a climax.ĭispatching five baddies on the first two pages alone, wand-waving villain-exterminator Vega Jane gathers a motley army of fellow magicals, ghosts, and muggles-sorry, “Wugmorts”-for a final assault on Necro and his natty Maladons.

It’s a patchwork, but an entertaining one, and as likely to win him new fans as to answer questions from his old ones. The author adds incidents from his Iditarod races, describes how he made, then learned to hunt with, bow and arrow, then closes with methods of cooking outdoors sans pots or pans. As usual, his real adventures are every bit as vivid and hair-raising as those in his fiction, and he relates them with relish-discoursing on “The Fine Art of Wilderness Nutrition,” for instance: “Something that you would never consider eating, something completely repulsive and ugly and disgusting, something so gross it would make you vomit just looking at it, becomes absolutely delicious if you’re starving.” Specific examples follow, to prove that he knows whereof he writes. Paulsen recalls personal experiences that he incorporated into Hatchet (1987) and its three sequels, from savage attacks by moose and mosquitoes to watching helplessly as a heart-attack victim dies.

The bread winner by arvella whitmore