Everything I Read in July
- Kieran O'Brien
- Aug 1
- 7 min read
Webster’s dictionary defines ‘July’ as “a pretty rough month, dude. You doing okay? You want to talk about it?” Thanks, Webby, you’re a good friend. No, I’m doing fine. I actually just want to talk about the books and comics I read this month if that’s okay?
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Alright, ignore me. See if I care.
Books
Anji Kills a King by Evan Leikam (2025)
Let’s get the worst out of the way first. Anji Kills a King has a really interesting premise: when a servant finds herself with the unexpected opportunity to murder a tyrannical king, she doesn’t even take a moment to think about the consequences before plunging the knife into his throat. From there she flees, but it doesn’t take long before a cadre of ruthless royal mercenaries known as the Menagerie catch her scent.
Going into this book, I expected it to be something like a Bourne Identity-style thriller, with Anji attempting to keep one step ahead of capture and execution as she grapples with the morality and consequences of her actions… so imagine my surprise when she’s caught in less than fifty pages.
Being captured so early by ‘The Hawk’—one of the royal mercenaries who wears a hawk mask to hide her identity—essentially robs Anji of her agency. She becomes a passive protagonist, being dragged from location to location against her will, making very few decisions. The story is mostly concerned with the inner politics of the Menagerie instead of Anji’s escape and survival or the political fallout of a murdered king.
The backdrop of the story is monotonously bleak. Torture, illness, addiction, trauma—all without a spark of light or life or companionship or love to create contrast and stakes. A real slog of a book. At least the cover design’s cool.
Deadhouse Gates by Steven Erikson (2000)
The second book in the Malazan series, Deadhouse Gates is a tome. It’s also nearly as difficult to read as the first book. Erikson doesn’t simply refuse to hold the reader’s hand—he blindfolds them, spins them around until they’re too dizzy to stand, then shoves them on their way.
This book focuses on a (mostly) new group of characters and is set on a different continent from book one. Forget everything the first book taught you because most of it isn’t relevant here. This is a story of flawed gods, deceptive prophecies, shrouded politics, unknowable magic and ignoble quests—none of which is ever fully explained to the reader.
The way Erikson holds back on delivering enough context for a reader to fully understand a situation is honestly impressive. He forces you to wallow in uncertainty. Dozens of POV characters and countless layers of loyalties and factions make holding the whole story in your head nearly impossible. The fact that a publisher ever took a chance on this series is a miracle.
And yet I love it. It’s a delight not to be talked down to by an author; to be trusted to keep up and make connections myself. There are times when this is not an enjoyable book to read—when you realise just how out of your depth you are. But Erkison made a choice to leave the reader ill-equipped for this journey, and there is immense satisfaction to be had in wading through the discomfort and coming out the other end with the sense that you just glimpsed something truly epic.
Assassin’s Apprentice by Robin Hobb (1995)
It took me far too long to start reading Robin Hobb’s books. This is the first in her massive, sixteen-book series (divided up into several small trilogies/sequences) and is very much ‘classic fantasy’. We follow Fitz, the bastard of a prince who gets trained to be an assassin so that he might be useful to the royal family. Naturally, he clashes with both his mentors and various legitimate members of the royal family who thrive on making his life worse.
For me, the story suffered a little because I’ve read variations of this story so often. The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss in particular owes a lot to Assassin’s Apprentice: cruel teachers, arcane knowledge, teenage puppylove, and hints of deeper magical forces at work in the world. Unfortunately for Assassin’s Apprentice, The Name of the Wind is probably one of the best fantasy books ever written, but it was great to read a book that had such a strong influence on it.
Assassin’s Apprentice does have its own identity though. Fitz, the main character, is particularly well-written. He’s not great at much, nor is he some magical chosen one, and he comes across as deeply relatable in his ordinariness. His ability to bond with animals is charming (and, be warned: heartbreaking) and his complicated relationship with his father figure, Burrich—the royal Stablemaster—feels suitably reserved and authentic for the world this book takes place in.
There were times when the pacing was a little iffy. There were sections where not much happens and the same emotional beats are hit again and again, and there wasn’t enough build-up to the conflict and climax of the story. It’s never unenjoyable though, thanks to Hobb’s attention to detail and love for this world. Even though it didn’t blow me away, I’ll definitely be reading some sequels.
Comics
Wonder Woman: Earth One by Grant Morrison and Yanick Paquette (2016)
This was my very first Wonder Woman comic collection, and I fear it may also be my last. Earth One starts as a retelling of Wonder Woman’s origin. The thing is, unlike Batman or Superman’s origin story, Wonder Woman’s isn’t all that interesting. U.S. Airforce pilot Steve Trevor crash-lands on Themyscira—Wonder Woman’s utopian homeland—which eventually leads her to strike out for the world of man to try and do some good.
Leaving the island of Themyscira puts Diana (Wonder Woman) in conflict with Queen Hippolyta—her mother—but their relationship is so formal that there’s very little emotion to be felt in the fallout. From there, the story pits her against various factions of the U.S. Military and the whole thing becomes a disappointingly flat exploration of war. Did you know war is bad? Did you know that men cause wars but if women were in charge then there would be no wars? It all feels a little puerile.
The story loses sight of the humanity behind Wonder Woman. She quickly becomes an idolised public figure, which would be fine if we got see what that meant to her, but the significance of her position doesn’t seem to weigh on her at all. Diana doesn’t feel like a dimensional character, and by the time I finished this story, I was still lacking a sense of what makes Diana an appealing character.
Aside from the underwhelming story, there are also some woefully unfunny ‘jokes’ about lesbians and fat people that feel like they came from the early 2000’s, not 2016. This, combined with Morrison’s incredibly ham-fisted attempts at expounding on diversity and feminism make this an absolutely galling read at times.
I’m sure there are great Wonder Woman stories out there; she couldn’t have endured for so long if that weren’t the case. But as things stand, the character just doesn’t appeal to me on the emotional level that I wished she did. This isn’t a ‘boo-female-superheroes-suck’ thing, in case that needs to be said. I just don’t get what drives her. I needed this story to be way more personal for Diana (and way less written by Grant Morrison).
Daredevil: Living Hell by Saladin Ahmed et. al (2025)
Daredevil has been my favourite comic book character for the better part of a decade now. He’s literally the only superhero I keep up to date with, but this most recent collection is… rough. To be frank, the artwork is dire. DD’s stories have been likened to Batman’s in terms of style and tone countless times over the years, but I think if there was artwork this cartoonishly bad in a modern-day Batman comic, multiple people would be losing their jobs over at DC.
Then we have the story. Matt got sent to hell a while back, but upon his return, some demons followed him out. These demons embody the seven deadly sins and have been possessing those closest to Matt for unknown reasons. Most recently, Wilson Fisk, a.k.a. the Kingpin has been possessed by the sin of greed, and his conflict with Matt pushes him to confront the greed in his own life and… and… there’s another demon that’s just straight up killing people and…
This book just isn’t interesting. Since returning from hell, Matt’s been a priest, and although I like the contrast of ‘priest by day, vigilante by night’ on paper, we actually see very little of Matt doing priestly things. I miss the days when he was a lawyer. I miss Foggy Nelson. I miss grounded, personal stakes instead of this wacky supernatural stuff.
I don’t get a sense of where any of this is going, and the whole thing of Matt vs. the seven deadly sins just… doesn’t work. There’s no interesting conflict there. You can really see Ahmed straining to find an angle to pin these sins on Matt. In this collection, Matt is apparently ‘greedy’ for being both Daredevil and a priest. It just doesn’t feel like a big enough deal to build a character arc around.
Once Ahmed wraps up this seven deadly sins malarky, the series needs a massive overhaul. Ideally, I think we need a new creative team. I respect Ahmed and co. for trying something extremely different, but Living Hell is their third collection, and I think it’s clear that it’s not working.
Batman: Cold Days by Tom King et al. (2018)
Tom King’s run on Batman is contentious for some reason. I think it’s great. Cold Days focuses mainly on the trial of Mr. Freeze, who was recently arrested by Batman and is being accused of murdering three women. The evidence appears to be overwhelming, but one juror isn’t convinced: Bruce Wayne.
Huh!? Yeah. This story is so much fun, as Bruce is forced to confront Batman’s fallibility despite his god-like public perception. He’s also reeling from being recently left at the altar by Catwoman, but in typical Bruce/Bat fashion, insists that he’s fine. That latter element is barely directly acknowledged but plays under the surface of every page as Bruce deals with it by not dealing with it. It makes for some really powerful subtext.
Come to help Bruce in his time of need is Dick Grayson, a.k.a Nightwing, a.k.a. Bruce’s adopted son, a.k.a. the vigilante formerly known as Robin. Dick’s playful personality is, as ever, a delightful contrast to Bruce’s brooding, and King captures the dynamic between father and son perfectly. It’s a light touch but manages to be emotionally resonant.
The art here is fantastic, the story is something I’ve never seen in a superhero comic before, and it left my dying to read the next collection in the sequence.
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