A guest post by E.C. Myers.

“She had known all along that she was a queen, and now the crown proved it. It was the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes; it lay beside her on the pillow, shinier than silver, glowing softly, with twinkling blue stones set all around. And although it looked hard and solid, when she touched it she discovered that the silvery metal was actually a finely spun fabric, strong but soft as silk, so that if she wanted to, she could fold the whole crown in the palm of her hand and tuck it in her pocket.”

I’d bet that most people have heard of or seen the classic animated film The Secret of NIMH. Yes, the one about the rats. Maybe you’ve even read the Newbery Medal–winning book on which it was based, Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH by Robert C. O’Brien. But did you know that O’Brien wrote three other equally amazing books? Any one of them could qualify for “best book you’ve never heard of” (although his last one, Z for Zacharia, is being made into a film), but I want to highlight my favorite of his, The Silver Crown.

The Silver Crown was O’Brien’s first book, published in 1968. The story is about a girl named Ellen Carroll who wakes up on her tenth birthday to discover a silver crown on her pillow. Imagining it magical, and herself a queen, she slips out with it for an early morning walk. When she returns, she finds her house has burned down, presumably with her parents, brother, and sister inside. That’s a pretty gripping opening, and rather dark for a children’s book. It gets even better, and darker and weirder from there: Someone is after Ellen and her crown, and she flees in search of her Aunt Sarah’s house in the mountains of Kentucky.

Eventually Ellen meets up with a boy named Otto, and they have some trippy adventures together. Over the course of the book, Ellen learns that a mad king with a crown identical to hers — only black instead of silver — is using (or being used by) a machine called Hieronymus to brainwash and control people, forcing them to do evil things. It all comes to a satisfactory end, though the most recent U.S. reprint features two final chapters: the original ending, which was published in the U.K., and a slightly expanded version that explains more about what happened in case you don’t like loose ends.

So why haven’t more people heard of The Silver Crown? For whatever reason, it was out of print for decades, though a new edition was finally published in 2001 by Aladdin. Despite it being difficult to find for most of my adult life, I’m just one of many people who never forgot it after reading it at a young age. In my case, I first encountered it in a sixth grade classroom library, and I knew pretty instantly that it was something special. It may have stood out because of its dark subject matter, which definitely stuck with me as I got older, or it may have been its mature themes and accurate representation of the complexity of good and evil. Or it could just be that Ellen is capable and sympathetic, and utterly unlike the hero of any books I had read before.

Now that the book is widely available again (I now own three copies, including a UK edition) I reread it periodically. It still holds up very well for me as an adult, and for more than just nostalgia, because plenty of other books I read as a kid are pretty awful now. *cough* Xanth *cough* Along with the works of William Sleator, particularly Singularity, which also lingered in my brain long after reading it, The Silver Crown has probably subconsciously informed my taste in fiction and my own writing more than any other influences. It may have been one of the first stories I read that straddled the line between fantasy and science fiction and deftly subverted readers’ expectations. O’Brien also didn’t flinch from dealing with death and murder in a children’s story, and featuring both evil adults and helpful adults in a book for kids.

If you look at my first young adult novel, I tried to do some of the same things — taking familiar tropes, blending fantasy and SF, playing off expectations, and letting things get dark and creepy. But perhaps the best impact O’Brien has had on me is the realization that even though he only wrote four novels, but he left a lasting impression on generations of readers.

I have long believed that if I could write a book that readers can’t forget, like The Silver Crown was for me and countless others, then I did all I set out to do, regardless of commercial success. Awards and film adaptations are nice and all, but the true mark of success for a writer is reaching appreciative readers…and perhaps twisting their minds a little so they’ll never be the same again.

Guest Writer Bio:
E.C. Myers was assembled in the U.S. from Korean and German parts and raised by a single mother and a public library in Yonkers, New York. He is the author of the Andre Norton Award–winning young adult novel Fair Coin and its sequel, Quantum Coin, as well as numerous short stories in anthologies and magazines. His next YA novel, The Silence of Six, will be out in November 2014 from Adaptive Books. You can find traces of him all over the internet, but especially at http://ecmyers.net and on Twitter: @ecmyers.

A guest post by R.J. Terrell.

About ten years ago I stumbled on a little gem by the name of Zulu Heart. Being a fantasy reader and seeing practically none of it featuring a lead character of African descent, I was instantly intrigued. As it turned out, the book is more alternate history than fantasy, but it was fortunate for me that the book was placed in the wrong section.

After reading the book, I discovered that it was the follow up to a book called Lion’s Blood, so I had to go back and read them in order.

Lion’s Blood and Zulu Heart are a ‘duology’ (though not officially named as such) that take place in 1850 AD in a world where power rested in the hands of Islamic Africa as opposed to Europe. Lion’s Blood begins the story of two boys, one the son of a wealthy African family, and the other, a Druidic Irish slave.

Because of his family’s controversial views of slaves being equals, the African boy named Kai and the Irish boy named Aiden become friends in a world of slavery, strife, prejudice and racism. It is in every way a story of friendship and loyalty that transcends the confines of the evil shade of humanity.

Set in America where war is threatened as Aztecs, Zulus, Moors, and Europeans clash, we see a different history that is in so many ways the same.

In Zulu Heart, Aiden has convinced his friend, Kai, to push for the freedom of his family. In the years since, enslaved Europeans have carved a life for themselves only to face the threat of re-enslavement while Kai is entangled in political intrigue between the lords of Egypt and Abyssinia.

These two books feature a lush and very real world with an alternate history that is very believable and very well done. I found it especially interesting how a certain real heroic historical figure appeared in Zulu Heart as the opposite of whom he was known to be. Steven Barnes did a class act job with these two books and they deserve far more notoriety than they’ve received.

I must recommend this excellent series. Steven Barnes tackled a tough and severely uncomfortable subject, and did a brilliant job of showing how love, friendship, loyalty, and honor can transcend and ultimately overcome the darkest aspects of humanity. The books are very well done, and once they get moving, are gripping, immersive and quite enjoyable.

Guest Writer Bio:
R. J. Terrell was instantly a lover of fantasy the day he opened R. A. Salvatore’s: The Crystal Shard. Years (and many devoured books) later he decided to put pen to paper for his first novel. After a bout with aching carpals, he decided to try the keyboard instead, and the words began to flow. When not writing, he enjoys reading, videogames, and long walks with his wife around Stanley Park in Vancouver BC.Connect with him at:

R.J. Terrell on facebook

R.J. Terrell on twitter

R.J. Terrell on Goodreads

A guest post by Sarah Bartsch.

A few weeks ago I was invited to write for this blog, told it’s the best-books-you’ve-never-heard-of theme, and one title immediately pops into my mind: Heroes Die by Matthew Woodring Stover, book one of the Acts of Caine. As always. Seriously, I’ve been recommending this book to people since 1998.

I checked Librarything numbers to make sure it was still relatively “unknown”, and with only 491 people owning copies compared to 1169 of Runelords, 7,276 people having The Name of the Wind and (unsurprisingly) 76,945 copies of Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s/Sorcerer’s Stone, I figured that was good enough.

So a couple weeks pass, life is life-y, and I get an email from Tor.com (as you do) all about their new article: “Reddit Fantasy Lists Under-Rated and Under-Read Fantasy.”

The Acts of Caine series is number one.

Great minds and all that, right?  I’m glad even more people will go check out this great series, but it gets me wondering, and I go plug words into Google. Apparently the Acts of Caine is getting love all over the place. A lazy search revealed John Scalzi is a fan and did an interview with Stover in 2013 to coincide with the UK Orbit release. Scott Lynch gave Heroes Die a glowing review back in 2003, and that’s in addition to the Reddit survey I already mentioned and another lengthy recommendation for “The best damned fantasy you’ve never read” on the Penny Arcade forums.

So… my great idea for this post got stolen years before I even had it.

I’m okay with that.

Now a warning: This story isn’t for everyone. It’s violent, though not as gratuitous as it seems at first. It’s intense and may push some buttons or just irritate a reader in the wrong mood. It’s grimdark ten years before that term was coined. None of the characters are Good or Bad, but there are the people you’re clearly rooting for and then… there’s everybody else.

The story spans two worlds. On Arkhana, magic is real and warlords and kings fight for dominance, hiring women and men like Caine to do their dirty work. Caine is renowned as the best at what he does… while back on Earth, Caine’s adventures are experienced by an audience in the billions. Because Caine is actually superstar Hari Michaelson, who travels to Arkhana to kill for the sake of the profitable entertainment industry. Check out the links below for much better synopses if this grabs your attention at all.

But the most important thing I noticed about this book? A lot of people hate it. There are tons of bad reviews. Just scroll through the comments on the Penny Arcade post and you’ll notice negativity as often–if not more often–than praise. There’s even the occasional valid point I can’t argue away about the characterization or the style or whatever… Which just doesn’t matter because loving a book isn’t subject to logic. It’s about experience. Story. Visceral reaction.

As a writer, here’s my takeaway: Someone will always hate what I write. No matter what. I can follow all the rules (and practice) and attend workshops (and practice) and try to absorb greatness from my mentors (and practice), and even if scores of readers someday find my work brilliant, there will still be people who hate it. Worse, some will be completely unaffected either way, no matter what I do.

How… liberating.

So I’m going to swing for the fences with every story and hope, someday, something I write makes a fraction of the impact–both love and hate–as has the Acts of Caine.

If you want a proper recommendations, see below:

Scott Lynch’s review (yes, That Scott Lynch, the author of The Lies of Locke Lamora): http://www.rpg.net/reviews/archive/9/9825.phtml

John Scalzi interview with Stover: http://www.orbitbooks.net/2013/05/29/john-scalzi-interviews-matthew-stover-about-the-acts-of-caine/

Guest Writer Bio:
Sarah Bartsch lives in Albuquerque, holds degrees in anthropology and history and has a passion for all genres of fiction. She earned a black belt in Shotokan karate and has fond memories of doing archaeology in Wales and Ireland, but she’s most happy at the moment making the final touches on an urban fantasy novel and celebrating her first short story sale. “Substituting Fluffy” will soon be published by Daily Science Fiction.  

S comes in a sparsely adorned slipcover, the kind you sometimes see when purchasing limited editions. Within the slipcover is a novel that that looks like it was pulled straight from a dusty old library, bound in brown leather and titled Ship of Theseus by V. M. Straka, and stuffed with insets ranging from ticket stubs to letters. Open the pages and beside the typed prose you’ll find the margins covered in hand-written notes.

Not what you’d call your common novel.

S was conceived by film and television producer J. J. Abrams and written by Doug Dorst. As any viewer of Lost knows, Abrams likes puzzles, and that is exactly what S presents. V. M Straka is a fictional author but Ship of Theseus is a novel that stands on it’s own. In the world of S, the novel is found in a library by two university students, Jen and Eric, who pass the book back and forth, having a conversation via notes in the margins. Eric is a graduate student working with a renowned Straka expert whose certain the secret to Straka’s true identity is hidden within the pages of Ship of Theseus, and Jen ends up being his accomplice.

There are two stories here. The first is Ship of Theseus, which is a novel that stands on its own. Dorst mimics old-fashioned prose brilliantly, while still weaving together an engaging story. Ship of Theseus follows a man (referred to simply as ‘S’), who wakes without his memory. A chance encounter with a strange woman drives him and he sets out after her. His journey takes him aboard an eerie, otherworldly ship,  has him joining a radial group, and eventually turns him into an assassin. S’s tale is surreal and sometimes ambiguous, but always compelling.

The central theme is that of identity, hinted at by the title which refers to a well known thought-experiment generally credited to Plutarch, where he asks whether a ship that is restored by replacing all of its parts remains the same ship. It’s a question that haunts S as he finds his identity stripped away at the start and then rebuilt, piece by piece.

The novel is itself the set piece for the second story, Jen and Eric’s hunt for Straka’s true identity. Ship of Theseus is rife with Straka’s supposed eccentricities, most interesting of which are codes hidden within the prose. An ambitious reader might even try to ignore the margin notes and decipher them themselves, though Jen and Eric do the work for us.

Adding to the intrigue are footnotes written by V. M. Straka’s supposed translator, F. X. Caldeira. F. X. becomes the key to the second storyline as Eric believes she holds the key to Straka’s true identity, and that she hid a way to find her through her footnotes.

Jen and Eric are more than literary detectives. Their lives intrude onto the edges of Ship of Theseus. Both are lonely for different reasons, and eventually they meet in person. It’s astonishing how real their relationship, gleaned only from scribbled notes, becomes.

S occupies many genres. Ship of Theseus has the trappings of literary fiction, touches of fantasy, and a lot of mystery. Jen and Eric’s story is as much romance as mystery. To me, the way S defies genre only makes it all the more interesting. It’s a puzzle begging to be unwrapped, analyzed, studied.

Most importantly, it works as a story. I cared about S. I cared about Jen and Eric. I finished the novel months ago and I can still feel them rattling around my head. This is a novel I’ll recommend to anyone, though I warn you I found it takes more focus than most. Still, it’s the most memorable novel I’ve read in the past few years and I believe that effort will be worthwhile.