Review: Callus & Crow by DB Rook

Blurb:

A genre hybrid of western meets grimdark post-apocalyptic fantasy.
Can a path of blood lead to redemption?

Is redemption enough to amend a wayward world?
Morality and reality have shifted from their natural axis. Technology and ideology derive from the remnants of a world long dead and segregated by the monsters that now rule the seas.
Crow, a young ranch hand, is swept into an odyssey of redemption and revenge as he strives to hold back the ravages of fate and the urges born of a curse shared with his new mentor.
Callus, an exile struggling to find redemption whilst keeping his vampiric curse from tainting his new ward, pursues his prey across the sea.
The new world they discover reveals a tyrannical society fixated on their council’s ascension to godhood.

Review:

D.B Rook’s debut novel is arguably one of the most overlooked indie releases of the past two years. It’s a tale of two souls brought together by chance, bonded by the gift of a curse, told via a series of short journal entries. The effect is a book that imprints in a very visual way, reminiscent of the darker graphic novels I enjoyed toward the end of the 90’s. It’s a journey; compelling yet ambiguous, simple in its action yet deep in its theming. There’s plenty here for fans of the post-apocalyptic, for lovers of the old American West, for those who are looking for a slightly different take on vampirism. But honestly, I think there’s something in this book for everyone. And I’m not just saying that because the author comes from Sheffield, even though I wear my bias vehemently, swigging from a bottle of Hendo’s* relish.

Reight** then; let’s have it. This is why you should read Callus & Crow right now:

You’ll not find much of the South Yorkshire dialect in this book. In fact, much of it is written in a Southern American style that I’m told (who am I to judge?) is very well done. I won’t disagree; I thoroughly enjoyed the characterization of the entire cast of characters, all of whom have their own charm and wit and are clearly distinguishable. But the first point I want to make is not one of vernacular—it’s one of character, it’s one of the characters: Crow.

Crow is, and I only noticed this later, the sort of protagonist that presents themselves to you as a blank slate, a character for whom most people would hold no ill judgment. He is a boy, living on a farm, without a mother, but other than that, and the fact that he is a good lad, there’s little more to say. He’s a character who leaves space for you to inhabit, with just enough there to make you want to step into his skin but not so much as to make you want to crawl back out of it. It’s really quite artfully done, and returning to his point of view creates a feeling of familiarity and comfort throughout the book. His journey is your journey; and yes, I know, that’s how all books are supposed to be, but with Crow, it just feels like it’s done better. It’s like he’s willingly getting out of your way so that you can enjoy the ride. And who doesn’t love a ride?

Now for the setting: This story takes place some time after the society as we know it now has collapsed. However, this is not your average Western. The seas seem to be infested with megafauna that attack ships and have made nautical travel near impossible. There are tribesmen, trolls, slave mines, wraiths with strange magic, there’s even a horseback chase scene with a literal shit-cannon. You’ll find no tumbleweed here, only fast-paced adventure from cover to cover.

I’m not one to divulge a lot of plot in my reviews. I will, however, touch on the shape of a thing. And the shape of this thing is not always obvious. I never once found this book predictable, yet I never grew tired of where it took me or felt like it was taking me nowhere at all. The destination just seemed hidden until I got there, and when I did, I realized that I was happy to keep being led, because I enjoyed the journey more than the destination. This is a setup for a series that could easily run into double digits, and I imagine I would come back for each installment. I didn’t want it to end. Rook’s prose is poetic yet cutting. His writing style makes you feel respected and welcome. He doesn’t waste your time, take you on tangents, dump a bunch of lore on you, or presume to tell you what you should care about. He just tells you a story. 

Hell, I can’t wait for the next one.

* Hendo’s is short for Henderson’s Relish, which is obviously made in Sheffield.

** This is how we say “right” in Sheffield.