Nerine Dorman's Blog

If were also one of those kids who collected caterpillars and fed them until they formed a chrysalis, purely for the joy of seeing them emerge as butterflies ... or kept silkworms ... or both ... then this is likely the book for you. Southern African Moths & their Caterpillars, by Hermann Staude, Mike Picker and Charles Griffiths is one of the more useful guides for any lover of creepy-crawlies or those irritating flutterers who end up in your wine glass on the stoep at night (true story).

While a bunch of the previous field guides I've reviewed have been somewhat on the small side, this one's got it just right. Surely, unless you're hiking in the bundus specifically to go moth-hunting, you're going to go to the trouble of carting this along and deal with the weight. It's a big book. But for your reference library, it's perfect.
Nice, clear images of the moths appear on the right-hand pages, numbered so that they correspond with the text information on the left-hand pages where we've got distribution maps, Latin and English names, a brief description, biology, habitat and description. It's just enough to get by so you can tell your mates you fished the feather elegant out of your vino the night before. Where possible, images of caterpillars have been included, and dog knows I've seen enough questions on my community WhatsApp group about the same weird-looking fuzzy caterpillars. This book will help you ID them with relative ease, without having to rush off and have fights with "experts" on the iNaturalist app.
Something else I learned, which I hadn't realised, is the incredible diversity and beauty of moths in this region. Yes, many are rather brown and drab but there are some real standout species, with special mention of the emperor moths. Also, I'd had no idea that we found the death's head hawkmoth (I first learnt about this watching The Silence of the Lambs) here in South Africa. A particularly awesome discovery for me was the Bietou Tip Concealer. Who comes up with these names? (That one ended up in my bath.)
This hefty tome also includes a helpful introduction that will help you figure out how to go about identification and also give an idea of regional distribution patterns, while also underscoring the important ecological niche these amazing little critters inhabit. I whole-heartedly recommend this one to all armchair conservationists.

It's not often a book on writing that I jam into my head sticks, but Stein on Writing by Sol Stein is one of those that was so packed with *actual* useful advice that this is one of those almost biblical tomes on the craft that I keep recommending. Interestingly enough, I find my own method of approaching layered writing already is pretty much in line with how Stein teaches, so it wasn't as if I got something completely new. More like a refresher, really, and a reminder that I'm on the right path. (Which means I in all likelihood won't be the next BookTok sensation.)

Stein peppers his advice with anecdotes and tongue-in-cheek humour, and though he's clearly a beast from another era, much of what he says is still relevant today – except for the last chapter where he's busy plugging his writing software. I don't hear people talking about that anymore. Therein lies a cautionary tale for anyone pinning their hopes on big tech. Things are changing so fast that any book on the craft of writing is going to have to tread carefully to remain relevant.

Ah, heck, who'm I kidding? I don't use ChatGPT so I'm already irrelevant.

There's a part of me that feels that by and large the industry has shifted quite far from where Stein was at as editor, and it's also quite clear judging by his tone that he was... and I'll say it quite gently... full of himself. I don't think I would have enjoyed having him as my editor. Then again, I don't think he would have touched my writing with the soggy end of a barge pole considering what I write.

But that's not to say I can't learn from him – and he does offer up some nuggets if you can put up with the dross. And even reading the dross is entertaining. As a cultural object, this book definitely offers an interesting time capsule, and the one method that he did give in this book that I thought was worth its weight in rhodium was what he terms his 'triage' method of revising – something I've taken on board and teach to all my padawans. (You can ask me about it the next time I do a writers' workshop.)

Anyhow, this book is solid. It's an entertaining 'how to' that has some good points to make. If you can put up with Mr Stein himself. I suspect in real life his must have been insufferable. But he's quite dead, so I can say this without fear of reprisal. 

Look, Cameron Johnston is on my insta-buy list, but he already had me with "a gender-flipped Die Hard set in a mysterious castle". So, The Last Shield pretty much checked all my boxes as I read it. First off, our main character, Briar, is not some young slip of a thing who's going to save the world while making goo-goo eyes at some shadow daddy. She's an older, stubborn-as-heck warrior – a commander of the elite Shields whose task it is to protect the lord of Sunweald and guard the stronghold – a structure that's rather ancient and may well have a secret or three buried deep. Secrets that are, in my opinion, better left undisturbed.

But here's the rub. Briar's not young. She's got a gamey knee, and she's no longer at the peak of her physical fitness. In fact, she's pretty darned close to retirement. And while she's had a pretty good track record keeping her charges safe, she's well aware of her own shortcomings. Even if she will do her utmost not to admit this to anyone – which at the start of where we meet her in the story, we see is to her detriment.

I don't want to hie off into spoiler territory, and the tagline of this book pretty much already tells you that shiz will be sailing south in a big way, what I can tell you is that *any* of Cameron's novels will have a) plenty of humour, b) oodles of ultra violence, c) a cracking pace, and d) meticulous research. 

It's the latter that I really do appreciate – he knows his weapons and tactics. He creates a believable world that feels plausible, even if we're dealing with the supernatural. As a woman fantasy reader of A Certain Age, I appreciated reading a strong female lead who works around her physical handicaps and relies on her experience, her sheer determination and stubborn will, and her wits. Briar is up against what appears to be an insurmountable obstacle, with multiple foes who are stronger and better armed than her, and yet she doesn't let that stop her. Yes, her knee is killing her, she's uncomfortable most of the time, but she's also gosh-darned unstoppable. She's also a frigging good role-model for a young king-in-waiting who doesn't end up going full Joffrey. (And thank goodness for that.)

Anyhow, this was a cracking good read, with action, mystery, and magic aplenty, in a setting that recalls themes of the European Bronze Age. 100% recommended for lovers of sword-and-sorcery fantasy with a side order of dark humour.

I will admit straight out that it's the cover of Certain Dark Things by Silvia Moreno-Garcia that had me pick up the book. That. Art. Though I'm somewhat fatigued by vampires in standard urban fantasy settings, what had me keen to dip into Moreno-Garcia's writing was the setting, as well as a dip into a culture vastly different from my own. I will also admit that I played an inordinate amount of Vampire: The Masquerade as a young adult, so everything about the book's premise tickled me.

The story itself isn't all that complex – a vampire on the run, Atl, meets up with an unhoused young man, Domingo, and together the two of them form an unlikely alliance as she does her best to get out of Mexico City. For Reasons. I'm not going to get spoilery.

The two couldn't be more different from each other, and yet somehow Domingo in his naïveté creeps past Atl's defences. With them, we explore a dark, gritty urban setting that feels almost dystopian, drawing on Mexico's complicated history and social discourses. I like also that Moreno-Garcia has given a fresh spin to the vampire mythos, drawing on deeply rooted Meso-American mythology but blending in transplanted European notes to create a heady mix of cultures.

The pacing balances moments of quieter introspection with bursts of action, so I'd probably put this novel in the category of supernatural thriller. Overall, a wonderful read that has placed Moreno-Garcia firmly on a "yes, I'll pick up her other books when I see them in the wild" list.

Ek het geweet van die begin af dat ek vir Inkommers deur Hans du Plessis sou geniet, en al is dit 'n storie van 'n plek, is dit ook meestal 'n storie van die mense wie daar woon. Van die wat behoort, of sou ek liewers sê voel dit is hulle geboortereg teenoor die wat wat buite die kring is, so te sê. Daar is nogtans baie karakters, en partykeer het ek hulle 'n bietjie verwar. Die konkels in al die kleiner stories raak nogtans gekompliseerd.

Maar Du Plessis se taalgebruik is uitstekend. Kyk, ek is 'n Kaapenaar, en was maar baie selde annerkant die Vaalrivier, so ek ken nie hierdie wêreld nie. Dat ek so mooi 'n prentjie in my geheue kon kry sê maar baie van hoe goed hierdie man kan skrywe. En dis amper asof ek sit en luister op die stoep terwyl hy so gesels oor 'n koppie moerkoffie en beskuit – sulke lekker skinnerstories. En ek hoor sommer die tortelduiwe in die doringboom...

Die hart van die roman is sy mense – hoe dinge in 'n gemeenskap verander ... en maar partykeer ook net dieselfde bly. Mense is maar, mense, en hulle is dikwels vol draadwerk. Identiteit, eienaarskap... Waar 'n mens sy hart tuismaak. Dis moeilik om hierdie boek te klassifiseer, maar hy was definitief 'n lekker leesboek.

PS, verskoon asseblief my Afrikaans – ek probeer om 'n bietjie meer my taal te beoefen, en ek is maar baie verengels en sukkel met my woordeskat.

I've been a huge fan of Jacqueline Carey's writing since basically forever, and fell irrevocably in love with courtesan and spy Phèdre nó Delaunay the instant I read Kushiel's Dart. These days I suspect the books will likely fall under the banner of romantasy, but this was fantasy romance way before that term was every coined. I've been wanting to return to this alternative historical fantasy setting for years, so when Carey announced that she was writing the story from Joscelin's point of view, I was all over it.

Oh, Joscelin. [swoons]

If you know, you know.

Joscelin is a warrior-monk sworn to celibacy, so it's easy to imagine that he's less than thrilled when he's tasked with minding a courtesan, of all people. And Phèdre has a habit of finding herself in the midst of all manner of intrigue. As if her sensuality wasn't enough to drive the poor dear man to distraction.

I still intend to read the first three books back to back again. What I love about Carey's writing is that it's lush, filled with twisty intrigue, and plenty of sensuality that doesn't override the plot. She's built a fascinating alternative to Europe here that strikes me as having an almost gothic-baroque feel to it, for lack of better description.

Alexandre Dumas might be frowning at me right now. I don't care. This has the flavour of one of his stories, but with a bit more spice and less waffling.

At any rate, I remain forever one of Carey's minions, and the world of Terre' d'Ange will never lose its glamour for me. Horribly biased, I know, but I will always recommend these books.

I'm a huge fan of The Great Courses series of lectures that are available on Audible – they most certainly tickle my need for tertiary education while also providing me with a valuable source of research for my own world building as a fantasy author. The Pagan World – Ancient Religions Before Christianity by Hans-Friedrich Mueller is a hefty offering of lectures that covers a range of ancient civilisations, including ancient Egypt, India, Mesopotamia, Greece, and of course, Rome.

Perhaps the most important part of this lecture, I feel, goes to show how embedded the ancient religious practises were in the state. Having been raised in a primarily Christian community as the default setting, it was good for me to gain an appreciation of the structure of non-Christian religions within a functioning society – especially in terms of the law and morality. It's also fascinating to see how modern religions have been shaped by those that have gone before, and how even if the religions change, there's much that stays the same. Funny that...

Mueller structures his lectures with impeccable detail, including speculation about the various mystery cults, divination (I found the discussion on augury fascinating). Some might find him a bit long-winded, but I stepped away from this feeling highly enriched. I recommend this to anyone who wants a slightly deeper dive that will help understand the mind of ancient humans while offering a broader historical context for Indo-European culture.

I find these days that not much in terms of the premises for science fiction will draw me in – possibly because in real time, things are speeding up so fast with current affairs that I'm often cognisant of the fact that SF can easily become dated. As an author myself, I know this all too well. But TJJ Klamvik caught my attention with Siren's Call, and held it, which despite it being a rather long work, is something. 

This is a book that has somewhat of an identity crisis, which – hear me out – is likely its strength. The big takeaway that I had reading the thing from cover to cover is that it's really three, loosely interlinked, standalone novels rolled up in one, with chapters alternating between the three point-of-view characters – hardbitten police detective Adelia Duarte, special ops soldier Sergeant Marshal Jones, and somewhat jaded politician Justynia Freid.

As the three narratives unfold, readers are given a Bladerunner-esque noir detective story, a top-secret military recon mission on a deserted planet, and a gradually unfolding diplomatic disaster – all while wondering how the heck this all ties in together. Which made for some interesting reading. And I quite loved the contrasts, trying to figure out what exactly Klamvik had in mind.

Of course, I'm not going to spoil. What I will say is that Klamvik tells a darned fine story, delivering plenty of social commentary that is relevant for all the nonsense currently going on in the world. Yes, this is a long work. It may possibly have benefited from a little more snip-snippety-snip during edits, but even the length of the novel didn't put me off, as there was always something of interest (I'm a veteran of greats like CJ Cherryh, Mary Gentle, Kate Elliott, et al, so word counts don't scare me.) And, while none of the characters were particularly likeable to me, they held my interest because they're relatable. I respect an author who can manage that.

The narrative is simultaneously deeply personal while dealing with earth-shattering events, in terms of what's going on in the wider world, so there's quite a bit of depth and breadth, which I appreciate. Also, I dig that Klamvik doesn't do any hand-holding. You're in the deep end with this one, baby, and without floaty armbands. I like SF that does that.

This is my introduction to John Scalzi's writing. I've been following him awhile now on social media, and I gel with his vibe, so it was good to get to see what he's writing is all about. The Collapsing Empire is a fine case of space opera, if this is something that you're in the mood for, and it it's fast-paced and absurdly funny. Of course this does mean that the characterisation falls a little by the wayside, but it's more the biting social commentary that kept me going.

The premise is simple – in a hyper-capitalistic society that is spread out across the stars, it stands to reason that being able to reach the most far-flung parts of the empire and communicate is rather important. It would be a pity if the method of transport through a figurative hyper-space were to fail...

But this is exactly what is happening, and those who control the information have a leg up on those who don't, and how they choose to deploy any advantage they have in the matter will of course send the story spiralling into all manner of directions.

Scalzi is witty, a keen observer of society and human nature, and for those reasons alone he's a treat to read. There's a kind of wry, acerbic wit imbued in some of the situations that had me smirking to myself while I read. 

We see this story from the point of view of three characters – a reluctant absolute ruler, a scientist who says it like it is, and a scion of a powerful trading family. All will be affected once the Flow implodes, and the society that everyone has, up until now, taken for granted and milked for riches without much though to the consequences, is coming to an end. Which is kinda prescient for what we're facing at present.

Look, complex litfantasy this is not, but as always, what I am appreciating about Mercedes Lackey's writing is that sometimes you just need straight-up, uncomplicated escapism. And her love for animals – and the care of her made-up dragons – shines through in the writing. Yes, there are some absolute coincidences that drive the plot forward, with Vetch/Kiron being in the right place at the right time, but honestly, I'm here for the dragons and the nod at ancient Egyptian themes that run throughout the world building.
Book two sees Kiron establish himself in Alta after fleeing from enslavement in Tia with his dragon Avatre. But all is not well in his homeland, as he discovers, and despite the prestige he has managed to garner, thanks to his relationship with Avatre – a tame dragon as opposed to the ones that artificially subdued so that they can bear riders – he needs to overthrow an insidious horror threatening the very fabric of his home before they can deal with the threat posed by the belligerent Tians.
Yeah, some of the world building is a little on the nose, as if Lackey has only slightly polished off the names and gods of ancient Egypt, and yeah, the characterisation and plotting is somewhat on the surface, but I'm still sufficiently engaged with the story. It's fun. It's light. And it has dragon-flavoured adventure. Bite me.