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474 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published January 1, 2010
After the first in the series, I was looking forward to reading the rest of the volumes. In the first volume, the story was gripping, intelligent, laid out in a cogent manner. I found none of that in this second book.
I know that Shevdon has the talent: the first volume showed that. However, in this volume, Shevdon has his protagonist acting like a thoughtless loose cannon who hasn't learned anything beyond age thirteen. Worse, the cool, calm, logical, Blackbird, has become someone who can't reason beyond immediate needs. No more forward thinking like in the first volume, no more intelligent anticipation.
Apparently, Shevdon thinks the loss/danger of a loved one and the pregnancy of a woman makes a person's brains dribble out their ears. While initial trauma does indeed cause a drop in intelligent action, people always return to their mean. They may not be as energetic, or as focused, or as willful; but, they return to more of a baseline of what they were before the trauma: if you can even classify pregnancy as a "trauma."
The two main protagonists take stupid action after stupid action throughout. I don't know if Shevdon just was rushed in writing this book, couldn't pull out a good story to fit his second volume, or the first good volume was a fluke. I just know that this series ends for me with volume two.
I rolled her on to her back and pulled apart her blouse, popping buttons with a bodice-ripping tug. I half-hoped she would open her eyes and slap my face for being so presumptuous, but she lay inert while I pressed my ear to her chest, listening for a heartbeat.
Friendly Priest: "He's taken a liking to Shelley. Think she's a bit young for him, personally."
Niall the Creepy Protagonist: "How old is he?"
Priest: "Hard to say. She's just a kid, though."
Niall: "She'll grow."
Priest: "Aye, she will now. Where did you go?”
She appeared in the doorway. "You need to take me shopping," she said. Her hair was jet-black.
"There'll be time for that later."
"You always say that. I don't have any clothes. I haven't even got any bras." She looked down and her breasts visibly swelled inside her jumper. She looked up at me innocently.”
"How am I supposed to buy you new clothes if you keep changing size?" I asked.
"Maybe I need different sizes for different days," she said. "Maybe I need a lot of new clothes."
"Maybe you can have jeans and a T-shirt and you do the rest with glamour?" I suggested.
"Oh, Dad! I have nothing to wear. Literally nothing!" Her clothes switched back to the hospital gown. I was sure it was more transparent than it had been originally.”
“She's not ready for adulthood."
"She has power, she's of an age to bear children. Those are all the qualifications you need."
"She'll need some time to adjust," I insisted.”
