Rollins is the pseudonym of Jim Czajkowski, but he also writes fantasy novels under the pen name James Clemens. As Clemens, he’s written and published seven high fantasy novels so far, with more in the works.

Writing under the Rollins name, he wrote five stand-alone thrillers that took readers inside the earth — Subterranean, into high mountains — Excavation, to the ocean’s bottom — Deep Fathom, through the deepest jungles — Amazonia, and to the most remote and dangerous pole in the world — Ice Hunt. He also wrote the novelization of the newest Indiana Jones movie, Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull.

In Sandstorm, Rollins introduced a covert espionage team called Sigma Force that deals with archeological and scientific threats to the world. Made up of scientists and military personnel, Sigma Force goes anywhere and battles anything to ferret out puzzles and mysterious left throughout history. Imagine Dan Brown on steroids with Tom Clancy weaponry and you’ve got a good idea of what Rollins does in these books.

His interest in science and history are immediately noticeable in these books. They’re carefully researched (albeit with an eye toward getting Rollins and his fans where they want to go in high adventure), and the pacing is absolutely frantic. Not only does Rollins present information, but he also leavens the exciting mixture with no-holds barred conjecture on his part. He doesn’t just know how to relay information, he’s quite handy at spinning theories in bite-sized chunks that don’t get in the way of the action and don’t blow the readers away. I read these books for the information bytes almost as much as for the action and adventure.

The fifth and newest novel in the series, The Last Oracle begins with a bang. After a prologue containing a compelling peek back at the Oracle of Delphi, Commander Gray Pierce is approached by a man only seconds before he’s shot and dies in Pierce’s arms. The callous murder sends Sigma Force into motion to try to figure out what’s going on. Especially since the dead man seemed to know about Sigma Force, one of the most closely guarded secrets in the United States espionage network.

The man turns out to be Dr. Polk, one of the men who helped create Sigma Force. As soon as that mystery is cleared up, the team realizes that Polk – not Pierce – was the intended target all along. Even more mysterious, Polk was a walking dead man, already dying from radiation poisoning.

Rollins plants his clues deftly, charging into the adventure vigorously. A coin clutched by Polk leads them to the museum, and to Dr. Polk’s daughter, Elizabeth. I love the pacing of these books, but Rollins strips the characters down a lot, leaving them more blocked-out than filled in. Sometimes I miss not getting to know more about them, but then I realize with the headlong pacing of the books there’s no real way to explore any kind of personal life.

In short order, Rollins has got his plot up and running, separating Sigma Force into teams and branching out with different avenues of action. Director Painter Crowe and his group try to figure out the mystery of the Russian girl that falls into their hands while Gray Pierce follows up on the trail of bread crumbs Dr. Polk has left behind. On another front, we pick up the story of yet another Sigma Force member who’s fighting for his life to escape enemy clutches with a cadre of the psychically gifted children. And then there are the machinations of the bad guys.

Although I finished the book in a couple sittings, I admit I had to take a breath now and again to figure out who was doing what to whom from time to time. Rollins introduces all the elements of his adventure, from the Oracle of Delphi to the Gypsy culture to Punjab history, then kicks in a lot of psychic spying (remote viewing that the Russians spent so much time with) as well as archeological and scientific background.

Rollins tells his story adroitly, like a sketch artist. He lays out a line that gives the reader just enough to whet the imagination, then jumps to another set of characters and does the same. The pacing and plotting is pure potboiler, and these books could have easily been pulps or serials movies back in the 1940s. Rollins has acknowledge a love of Doc Savage novels when he was younger, and it truly shows.

The Last Oracle also deals with a cliffhanger left over from The Judas Strain, and a lot of fans are going to be reading with even more interest than the casual reader. Rollins puts a lot on the line for his regular readers, and they’re going to respond.

The book is out just in time for summer. But I have to warn you, if you open this book and begin reading expecting to have a calm day of it, you’re going to spend the day on the beach or in a hammock tensed up, dodging bullets and bad guys, and trying to figure out the final mystery of The Last Oracle.

Ethan is just back from Iraq after spending months rehabbing from serious injuries, and he’s not sure where he stands in the world. One of the first things he wants to do is find his biological father, a man that didn’t even know he existed until Ethan is introduced to him.

In the meantime, Connie crosses paths with Ethan after she picks him up hitchhiking, which he isn’t supposed to do in that area. Instead of warning him and sending him on his way, she senses something about him and gives him a ride into town. They talk and he immediately intrigues her.

Almost immediately, a man tries to pick up Connie’s young daughter from school. The man even knew her name. The suspicion in town falls on Ethan because he’s the newest arrival there, but that quickly gets set aside.

Ethan deals with his father and doesn’t know what to do next. He’s willing to let some time pass till he gets it all figured out. The sheriff, however, knows that Ethan is a good man and that his recent arrival will actually help out with the search for the man that tried to abduct Sophie Halloran. He hires Ethan and sets him up as a “friend” to Connie who’s visiting from out of town.

Connie’s mother and daughter take to Ethan at once, and Connie doesn’t blame them, but she knows that the soldier is just passing through. She doesn’t want anyone to get hurt, but she acknowledges that Ethan is a good man for the role of protector.

Rachel Lee is a solid writer in any kind of fiction. She’s also done several thrillers. Her prose is precise, punchy, and pared-down. She only says what she needs to say, making each scene work, then going on to the next one.

I read this book in two sittings, which makes it a perfect read in my mind. The characters are engaging and the stakes are immediately understandable. Her dialogue is good as well, and the characters are decisive and accepting of their lot in life, making them the kind of people I’d love to meet and hear more about. This is the way romantic suspense should be written. Rachel Lee is skilled enough to make it all look effortless.

I still have images of Superman comic books stuck in my head from when I was growing up in the 1960s. They were fantastic, a mixture of superhero and science fiction, two of my greatest loves ever at that age. I loved the stories of Lex Luthor (in his traditional gray prison uniform) teaming up with Brainiac (in a pink shirt and shorty-shorts). One of the most prevalent of those images was of Superman shrunken down and trapped in a birdcage.

Ahh, those were the days. But as I grew older, Superman grew more serious and so did his problems. Sadly, so did I. I realized there were worse things for Superman – for anyone —than being trapped in a birdcage. However, I still loved those stories. They were part of my childhood and I won’t feel badly for hanging onto them.

Especially since Grant Morrison and Frank Quitely are revisiting Superman with the same love and tenderness I remember from those comic issues. Those plots were innocent and fun in a way that comics haven’t been in a long time. Now, Morrison and Quitely are doing the same thing in the pages of All-Star Superman.

The series exists outside of the traditional Superman universe. From what I’ve seen of this first graphic novel, anything goes. Clark Kent is still something of a boob. Lois Lane is sharp and still doesn’t have a clue that Clark is Superman (until he tells her). Jimmy Olsen is perky and sharp and a geek all at the same time. Luthor is violently opposed to Superman breathing the same air as him, and is brilliantly carrying out multi-layered plans to bring that to an end.

And Superman is quietly heroic throughout it all.

The graphic novel gathers the first six issues of the series. Some of the stories function as stand-alone tales but they all have continuity threads. And they’re all just good fun. This is a Superman book I’m gleefully handing off to my ten-year-old because I know he’s going to have a blast with it too.

The first story shows Morrison’s deviousness. Luthor has a plan to destroy Superman by overexposing him to the sun’s rays. During the initial set-up of the story, Morrison quickly and quietly introduces his readers to the familiar cast of characters, letting everyone know just how he’s going to spin the relationships and at what point in their lives we are. The sequence of Clark entering the newsroom on the double is a long montage that expertly showcases Quitely’s artwork. I loved it.

The first issue leaves us hanging regarding Superman’s fate after the overexposure to the sun. But the second issue is a fan’s dream come true: Lois Lane is given super-powers for a day and becomes Superwoman the way we all imagined she might back in the 1960s. Not only that, but Quitely draws her smoking hot! The two-page spread of the Fortress of Solitude is awesome.

I also loved the calm, every-day way Superman discussed Batman and Robin, and the casual way the Superman robots got introduced. They were a staple of the 1960s as well. The secret of Superman’s key to the Fortress was terrific, and the stuff of science fiction. The way Lois’s paranoia about Superman backfiring was terrific plotting. Instead of being suspicious of Clark being Superman, she starts wondering if Superman has gone insane due to his exposure.

The third issue where Lois tries to make Superman jealous of Atlas and Samson is a hoot. So is the ending where Superman finally gets tired of their constant haranguing.

Issue four concentrates on Jimmy Olsen, and it’s the Jimmy I grew up with. The one that’s still young and naïve, and always in the middle of trouble Superman has to get him out of. This one also contains some of Morrison’s trademark outside-the-box SF.

Lex Luthor takes center stage in issue five. The team-up with Clark Kent was absolutely fantastic. Can’t believe no one ever tried that before. Of course, there’s probably some credit due to the Smallville television series there. “You write like a poet but you move like a landslide,” is a quote from Luthor about Clark Kent that I’ll probably never forget. The resulting adventure as they run from the Parasite (and Clark repeatedly saves Lex) is a series of neat twists. There’s even a cameo of Beppo the Supermonkey that’s hilarious.

Issue 6 hosts a lot of surprises and nostalgia. We get to see Ma and Pa Kent, watch Superman play with Krypto the Super-Dog, and even hang out in the Smallville malt shop with Lana Lang. Seeing the Supermen of the futures was a trip down memory lane as well. You just know Morrison is having fun with the cornucopia he’s laying down. But his is one of the saddest tales Morrison weaves, and it sneaks up on you in the end.

I can’t name a graphic novel I’ve read yet that seems to span the decades and the generations Morrison’s loving tribute does in All-Star Superman. For long-time fans that haven’t read comics in a great many years, this one is a perfect return. Pick this one up and prepare to enjoy the feast.

I love the whole premise behind Hawaiian Dick, the ongoing 1950s private eye comics set in Hawaii. The noir feel of the storytelling and characters is dead-on. The ex-pat main character, Byrd, is well-drawn and has a lot of emotional baggage he’s carrying that only gets opened up in this first graphic novel.

Byrd of Paradise gathers the first three issues of the comics written by B. Clay Moore and drawn by Steven Griffin. The story immediately seized a lot of attention when it first came out because of the mixture of old and new.

Moore has a great grasp of the story and noir must run in his veins. The set-up for the story and the execution hits all the cornerstones of the venue, and Byrd’s backstory comes as a natural progression of the case he’s on. Moore’s development of the story “reads” like a movie. He stays off the page and out of panels unless narration or dialogue is really needed. Action tells this story as well as anything, and readers often forget how much a good writer can do with a few panels of delineated action. Moore has a fantastic grasp of the concept.

As good as Moore’s story is, though, Griffin’s art emphasizes everything about it. Griffin’s use of color – bright and vibrant, then dark and moody – sets the tone for the scenes, the characters, and the atmosphere. Through color alone, Griffin could have brought home every emotion that he needed to in order to convey the story.

However, he doesn’t stop there. He gives us well imagined characters and body posture. Byrd just wouldn’t have been the cocky, worldly private eye without the five o’clock shadow and Hawaiian shirt. Mo wouldn’t have been the homicide cop without the immense stature, the clean-shaven appearance, and the immaculate black suit.

The artwork is loose and tight as needed. Sometimes panels only feature characters in action. Then there are other times that the background is developed in depth. All of it looks painted, with lots of contrast and rounded shapes that flow naturally to the eye. After you read the graphic novel, don’t be surprised to find yourself leafing back through the pages just to see the artwork again.

The story is pedestrian by all outward appearances. Byrd gets handed a case to find a car, but he’s getting paid more for the recovery than the car is worth. Immediately suspicious, Byrd confronts the man hiring him and finds out the car has a cargo that belongs to drug kingpin, Bishop Masaki. This is the kind of story a noir fan would expect to find laid at the feet of Marlowe, Spade, or Hammer. Moore throws in an extra wrinkle by including Hawaiian voodoo and zombies. The horror aspect never overshadows the private eye story, though. Rather, it complements it and gives the reader a little extra zest that gives the appearance of being something brand new.

I love this story. I’ve read it a few times now and enjoy it each time. It’s simple and structure, and delivers everything I’d want in a noir adventure. Plus the zombie creep factor and a few twists and turns I didn’t see coming. The 1950s feel makes a big difference too, like our heroes are just a little more exposed than they would be in the present day and age.

The graphic novel contains about 50 pages of extras, including sketches, notes, and script. Hawaiian Dick: Byrd of Paradise is a great entertainment and behind-the-scenes bargain. The property has also been licensed for movie development and you can see how a film would flow from these pages. This is a crackerjack read.

Greg Pak, the latest writer on The Incredible Hulk and now The Incredible Hercules, evidently ushered in a new period in the life of Bruce Banner, the Hulk with the Planet Hulk storyline. I wasn’t aware of this till my son got me to buy him an issue, then the graphic novel. I’ll be reading that soon because Pak has definitely made me curious.

Evidently in the Planet Hulk storyline, the Hulk was shot into space as a means to get rid of him. He landed on a planet called Sakaar. As it turns out, Sakaar is filled with warring races and violence. Hulk is enslaved, becomes a gladiator, and eventually king. He takes a woman named Caiera as his bride. Just as Hulk’s life seems on an upward turn, the vessel that brought him to the planet explodes and kills most of the populace. Caiera dies and the Hulk goes back to Earth on a killer rampage.

However, as it turns out, the story on Sakaar doesn’t end there. The people who live on that planet are incredibly hard to kill. Caiera manages to give birth to her son even as he lies dying. As one of the Shadow people, the child can run within minutes of being born. He can also survive the lava and other natural disasters that befall the planet. Given that he was half-Hulk, I could believe that.

The story moves quickly through the boy’s life. He grows up in days and becomes a killing machine, a predator that hunts what he needs. Caiera remains to deliver a voice-over for the book, and that insight feels real and natural. Her words are easy to read and create an instant bond with the boy.

I love the violence of the planet as well. It feels like an old Edgar Rice Burroughs novel mixed with Robert E. Howard. An alien Conan the Barbarian alone against the world. I flipped through the pages as anxiously as my son had, waiting for the story to unfold in the brightly colored panels filled with explosions of action. Within minutes, the boy’s plight had won me over.

Somehow Skaar becomes a leader of a bunch of giant ant-like things. I’m sure that bond will be explained later. The full-page splash of them battling a giant serpent thing is intense. Ron Garney’s artwork fits the series to a T.

Pak doesn’t slow the pacing down as he moves the time to a month later and a killing raid against people too weak to protect themselves or get away. Those deaths obviously leave a mark on Skaar, but we don’t know what it means yet.

Then, a year later, the action unfolds again as another group of raiders attacks a community. This group is led by Axeman Bone, who’s destined to become a chief villain in the series judging from the story time he’s given. Axeman Bone kills a young man who must be related to Caiera because he has the same flesh-to-stone power she had. Pak had me at that because at first I thought that was Skaar.

We don’t see Skaar again till the end splash page. By this time he’s fully grown and in a savage berserker rage. I don’t know how intelligent Skaar is because he never speaks in this issue, but there’s plenty of action.

I was definitely intrigued with this first issue. My son and I are going to pick them up for a time and see what develops. Pak’s sense of pacing and Forney’s pencils are worth the cover price investment, and I’m really curious about where they’re going to take the Hulk’s son. Hopefully they won’t take him off-planet for a while. There seem to be plenty of adventures waiting there, and I’d love to see Conan-style adventures for a time.

With the movie out this summer, plenty of attention is being paid to the Hulk. There’s even a new, mysterious red Hulk on the loose in the new volume of the series, and Dr. Bruce Banner is trying to help figure out what that means. I’ve also heard the Hulk is supposed to have a daughter by an old character named Thundra. That story is set in the future.

Peter David was the first writer in a long time to really build an audience for the Hulk, but Greg Pak’s take on the character has obviously done the same. Now we also have Skaar, Son of Hulk to follow, and I’m down for the ride to see what we’re going to be offered.

Brubaker and Phillips put stories together whenever they can, then run them as mini-series before they’re eventually gathered into graphic novels. I love the stories because they’re hard hitting noir tales about tough guys, violence, and constant danger. There’s not a superhero among them, and very few innocents.

Lawless is the second collection, and it’s a barbed-wire punch to the throat. Sleek and deadly as a bullet, the story of Tracy Lawless’s quest for revenge after his brother ends up dead rockets along to a climatic finish that belongs on the big screen.

Brubaker’s narrative, echoed by Phillips’s art, is interesting in this arc. Instead of simply breaking the story out from start to finish, Brubaker reveals everything in episodic chunks. He starts with an action, like killing a man on a rooftop and disposing of his body in a Dumpster in the alley, then circles back around to tell readers who the man was and why Tracy killed him.

Looking back through the graphic novel, I noticed how deliberate the reveals were. Brubaker dropped pebbles of plot into the pond of his story, then chased the ripples out for the readers till everything came together. The method is very effective, like getting a bite-size chunk of a mystery that allows you a look at only one piece of a larger puzzle.

Tracy’s background isn’t delivered in a large info dump either. Nor is everything completely explained. I still want to know what happened to Tracy and Ricky’s father, and even what happened to Ricky that put him into a life of crime. That’s because the character feel so real on the pages. Even though I didn’t get every answer, Brubaker and Phillips provide enough that I knew Tracy Lawless and the kind of guy he was. He’s the same kind of guy who’s adventures I enjoyed in the pages of the Gold Medal novels I read while growing up. Evidently Brubaker haunted the same aisles in similar bookshops.

Ricky Lawless was a wheelman for a gang. He drove the getaway car. But after a heist goes bad, Ricky ends up shot to death. Tracy is a soldier, a man with a harsh past that has no problem killing people he thinks needs to be killed. The problem is, he’s not sure who killed Ricky, but he knows once he finds out he’s going to kill whoever it was. In the meantime, he has to infiltrate the gang, help break out one of the members from prison, and stay out of the clutches of a mysterious group of killers that have somehow gotten onto his tail.

The art in the book complements the story, providing mood and atmosphere. Phillips’s style and take on grungy metropolitan areas and action is fantastic. The layout of the scenes, the exposition of the surroundings and the snap-focus on characters, show just how easily the story could be rendered to cinema.

The language and story are harsh, so Lawless might not be everyone’s cup of tea. But fans of noir are going to feel right at home in these pages.

The old wizard is as disreputable in his own way as Conn is. Twenty years ago, Nevery was accused of attempting to kill the Duchess of Wellmet where Conn lives. Nevery was run out of town just ahead of the soldiers that would have doubtlessly hung him.

Now, twenty years later, Nevery is drawn back to the city because the magic that powers the place is mysteriously drying up. Nevery uses that predicament to leverage his own return and gets the Duchess to grant him amnesty for his past wrongs, even though he didn’t try to kill her.

I love the way Prineas has Wellmet sectioned off into Twilight, Dusk House, Dawn Palace, and the other regions. Illustrator Antonio Javier Caparo’s maps and drawings really established the tone well and led my son and me into a wonderful imaginary journey throughout the city. The place just feels real.

The relationship between the characters, though predictable because they are steeped in tradition, are even more wonderful because the reader knows what to expect. Prineas expertly moves those relationships along, teasing the reader with them. I kept wanting Nevery to acknowledge Conn as his apprentice for so long, then – when Conn was in such dire straits – I’d forgotten about it and Prineas delivered that so expertly that I knew it was coming and was so concerned about other things that I’d temporarily forgotten.

That relationship, that push/pull of wills and the need to understand each other, drives this book and I’m sure will drive the other two in this trilogy. The addition of Benet as the hired muscle and his – eventual – doting uncle role with Conn is amazingly portrayed as well.

I have to admit that the first few pages seemed to dawdle a bit, but this is a relatively big world to explore, and there’s some history – particularly between the major players – that has to be revealed slowly. Prineas makes the whole thing play well, and it isn’t long before she has everything up and running.

Along with all the mystery and intrigue, as well as the duplicitous and suspicious nature of the characters, the author also throws in one-liners that and humor that is to die for. One of the best scenes in the book was when Conn was captured by the duchess’s guards, thrown into a prison cell, then lets himself out with his Lockpicking skills. Only to give himself away when he gladly hails Nevery, whom he hadn’t expected to see at all.

When Prineas locks onto the final scenes of the book, about the last sixty pages so be prepared to keep reading for a bit, there’s just no way to tear yourself free. My son and I were nailed to the pages, pushing way past our bedtimes as we finished up the last one hundred and forty pages in a reading marathon that had us hanging on by our fingernails.

The Magic Thief ends well, resolving several questions, but it raises several others that will keep my son and I anxiously awaiting the next installment. This is definitely a book to pick up for the kids to read over the summer, and you may find yourself chasing Conn and Nevery through Strangle Street and avoiding the Underlord’s minions yourself!

The popularity of zombies is on the rise. In fact, the fans of the walking dead may be soon encroaching on the number one spot held by vampires. I don’t know why this is happening, it’s as mysterious as the reasons for the zombies climbing from their graves to start searching for a brain buffet in all the movies (and yeah, yeah, I get that some kind of gas was released in the Living Dead movies and in Raccoon City, but come on. Really?).

Zombies moved back into horror fiction with a much more sure step than they’ve had in a long time. But now they’re launching into teen romance fiction. In a way. Generation Dead by Daniel Waters is a mixed bag, and I’m going to be all over the place while describing my reading experience for you. It just refuses to lie down and die to be reborn into a familiar zombie novel of movie tradition.

The cover of the dead cheerleader with blackened eyes seized me at once. I mean, once you get that image in your head, it’s not going to easily go away. Neither will the romantic triangle between Phoebe, Adam, and Tommy, the “differently biotic” boy Phoebe falls for.

Phoebe was one of the Goth girls at school. She enjoyed being different, and the dressed-in-black thing really worked for her. Looking like the living dead really worked for her. It even earned her the name Scarypants from Pete, the novel’s villain of sorts. Of course, the look really lost its appeal when dead kids started showing up and coming back to school. The author does an excellent job of catching a teen girl’s feelings and confusion throughout the novel. Phoebe comes to life on the pages almost at once.

Adam is the football jock and Phoebe’s next door friend. As it happens, he’s just discovering that the friendship he’s always had with Phoebe runs much deeper. That realization is stymied by his own shyness, the fact that he is a member of the Pain Crew on the football team and he shouldn’t go for Goth girls, and Phoebe’s sudden crush on Tommy Williams.

Tommy is a pioneering wonder among the zombies. He’s articulate and he writes, blogs even. He also goes out for the football team and causes all kinds of tension in the school and the city.

The story revolves around these three characters and how they sort out their lives. However, the author throws in great support characters like Margi, Phoebe’s best friend, and others.

Teens these days seem to be almost shockproof to so many changes in their lives. If the living dead did claw their way from their graves and decide to go to school instead of the brain buffet, I would be very surprised if teens didn’t act exactly as Waters portrays them in this novel. They split almost immediately into groups that supported the zombies and those that stood against. But mostly they were curious.

I could make a lot of comparisons to cultural differences being played out in the pages, of Waters building his zombies up to comment on race, religion, and economics – the usual dividers among populations, but I won’t. I don’t think he wants the book to go that deeply into global problems. I believe he just wants to talk about the teen world, get into their heads, and tell a story they’ll have a ball with wondering “what-if”?

I also have to admit that you’re going to have to push yourself to get through the first fifty pages or so. The book progresses slowly but that’s so the characters and all their complications can be set into place. Once that’s done, Waters engages fully with the story and keeps things moving.

This is a book for the teens. Some parents of teens or those who want a trip back through the teenage years will enjoy it as well, but the junior high and high school readers should eat this one up. There’s no real explanation for why the zombies came back to life, or why only American teens were affected, and I was disappointed slightly in that. But the characters are real, facing situations with genuine emotion, and I believe that the target audience is going to feel that and enjoy the read.