You know how I got talked into reading Schafer’s debut novel, last year’s The Whitefire Crossing?
I heard it had rock climbing in it. (That’s my favourite sport at which to suck really badly.) Turned out, once it got its feet beneath it, The Whitefire Crossing was a perfectly decent first novel, showing distinct promise. So far, so good, but nothing to get excited about, right?
Well, The Tainted City, a direct sequel, is a definite improvement. In every way more robust and assured, it doubles down on grand stakes while keeping the pressure on personal ones. And yes, I’ll admit it: the tension was such that I checked the final pages in advance, to spare my stomach some clenching.
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