These are great times to be a book reviewer, because (along with astonishing amounts of crap), authors regularly send me 5-star books to review. But every now and then, I get something more. A book I literally can’t put down, one that I know will have me stalking the writer for my next fix. I get to meet characters who follow me around in my head and have me worrying about whether they’re going to be okay. Do they have enough to eat? A safe place to sleep? Will they ever be happy?
And that’s where I run into rating issues. The problem with rating scales is that as soon as you establish them, you want to step outside those oh-so-useful-limits. For example, my criteria for a 5-star book is “Author goes straight to my auto-buy list, books I wouldn’t hesitate to recommend to anyone, books I would buy hard copies of and not lend out.” But what if I have one that I want to rate “Would trade last chocolate bar for and might even replace coffee?”
Take Brian Freyermuth’s urban fantasy, Demon Dance. While it’s true that he had me right from the terrific first line—“Leave it to an ancient god to ruin a perfectly good afternoon.”—Freyermuth proceeded to stack the deck where I’m concerned with three of the things that define me: Seattle, coffee, and writing. Please consider the following:
* When we meet protagonist Nick St. James, he’s sitting in one of my favorite places on the face of the earth: the hand of the troll eating the (actual) VW Bug under Seattle’s Aurora Bridge. [Okay, technically it’s the George Washington Bridge, but the only people who call it that are the tourists who actually read the road signs. You can tell who the tourists are—the ones with umbrellas. Everyone else just calls it the Aurora Bridge, and gets wet when it rains.] That kind of thing makes Seattle perfect for an urban fantasy.
* But in case you still have any doubts about the Seattle setting, Nick’s friend Thelma is a magic-wielding barista. Of course.
* Nick himself used to be a private detective, but after his wife’s death he became a romance writer. Apparently, he’s very good at a genre with only one real requirement: creating characters who get the happily-ever-after that Nick will never achieve for himself.
Nick St. James is a cross between Sam Spade and Harry Dresden—with, maybe, a Native American grandmother, his dead wife, and the ghost of Raymond Chandler as his spirit guides. Narrated in a wonderful first-person detective internal monologue, Nick’s constant refrain “I’m just a writer” doesn’t sell with anybody but his publishers. To ancient gods, to his dead wife’s sister Caitlin (a vampire), and to the dragons and demons and other nightmares who come after him, Nick St. James will always be a detective, always be in ‘the game’. When he finds the decapitated body of Caitlin—his former business partner and sister-in-law—Nick gives up the pretense and starts looking for an explanation. While he’s obsessed with the two women he couldn’t save from death—wife Ann and her sister Cait— we see Nick get regularly beat to a pulp as he rescues a growing list of people, from innocent bystanders, to a mother and daughter, to an assortment of paranormal creatures spanning a universe of pantheons and supernatural belief systems.
Nick’s monologue rushes us from one disaster to the next, usually resulting in him getting beaten up by various demons, vampires, and no-eye things. There’s a lot we don’t know about Nick, from why he’s always wearing one of his seeming endless collection of baseball caps, to why he’s called the Sundancer, or even to what he is. But whatever that might be, it helps him heal quickly, a lucky thing since his frequent doses of pain (lower case) threaten to set free the Pain (upper case, presumably loss of his wife) and the Hunger (also uppercase, although not really explained except that when it gets out, there are bodies. Lots…). He manages to keep a lid on The Pain through sheer willpower, but the Hunger requires massive doses of meat. We see Nick’s other special abilities come into play, but are left to guess what those abilities add up to.
As I said, this story pulled me in from the first line and I literally sat up all night to finish it at one go. The pace will leave you breathless, a rollercoaster ride of emotion and snark and nonstop action. When I came to the end, the only thing that kept me from screaming for more is that there IS more. The first chapters of Mind of the Beast are not only included, but (thank you urban fantasy gods!) it is also now available online.
Obviously, I’d give Demon Dance five stars. And (for Seattle, for the troll, and for getting the coffee part right), I’d also give it a latte. Venti. This is a fantastic, confident, and completely entertaining book. I’d say more, but that sequel—Mind of the Beast—is calling my name. I just have to grab my coffee first.
**I received this book for free from the publisher or author in exchange for an honest review. This does not affect my opinion of the book or the content of my review.**