Ien Nivens was
the first to point out that my urban fantasy actually fell into an exclusive,
and very cool, subgenre “angelpunk”. It’s
certainly not all halos and harps, the way steampunk isn’t all leather and
brass (though they certainly help). For some definition, enjoy my primer.
Angelpunk also sounds cool.
The same way Revenge of the Jedi sounded cool—and still does.
Angelpunk.
But I digress. Nivens’ five-star review was such a lovely
thing to read first thing on a Monday.
Enjoy:
No demons
have been harmed in the making of R. A. McCandless’s follow-up to Tears of
Heaven, but the same cannot be said of the celestials. It is entirely possible
to read and enjoy Hell Becomes Her without having read the first novel in the
Flames of Perdition series, but McCandless sets the character of lead Nephilim
and die-hard contrarian Omedeliah “I told you, my name is Del” bar-Azazel so
powerfully well in the first book that—do yourself the favor. Get both.
All Del wants
is to get her daughter back safe and sound, but her usual slash and burn
approach to problem solving will not advance her cause this time, but never
fear; the fight scenes are more intense than ever. McCandless takes us on an
inventive elevator ride into unexpected territory, exploring two new cultures
that have blended and bunkered themselves into the austere Northern Nevada
landscape in a bid to escape detection by the Throne.
Del shreds
curtain after curtain to expose the motives and the means of a new enemy and
displays a knack for diplomacy she is uniquely positioned to craft and deliver.
But nothing is as it seems, nor as it seems to seem, in this surprise-laden,
irreligious angel thriller, and his second volley advances the range of a genre
McCandless seems determined to define on his own terms.
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