Tor has a new book coming out next month from Cherie Priest, one of my favorite fantasy writers (and one of the best contemporary writers of the south that I know of). Here's the PW review for Fathom:

A decidedly dark departure from Priest’s Eden Moore saga (Four and Twenty Blackbirds, etc.), this stand-alone novel is equal parts horror, contemporary fantasy and apocalyptic thriller. During a summer vacation to her aunt’s coastal Florida home, innocent teen Nia sees her cousin Bernice commit a brutal murder and then get dragged into the ocean by a monstrous water witch. Nia becomes inadvertently entangled in a conflict between primordial creatures that endangers the very existence of humankind. Entombed in stone for countless years, Nia eventually emerges from her cocoon transformed, only to realize that an old god is close to awakening and destroying the world. Priest’s haunting lyricism and graceful narrative are complemented by the solemn, cynical thematic undercurrents with a tangible gravity and depth. This is arguably her most ambitious—and accomplished—work to date.

In the odd world of book reviewing, Tor has not sent me this book (due out next month) but did send an ARC for Charles De Lint's next book (due out March 09). Ah well, Priest is like Sarah Vowell, an author I will happily read at any opportunity. Fathom is one of the holiday wishlist for sure. (And check out her new short story, "Tanglefoot" up right now at Subterranean's online magazine)

Jenny D. posted a teaser today for The Philosopher and the Wolf that has made me desperately want this book:

My realisation was fundamentally an aesthetic one. When we were running, Brenin would glide across the ground with an elegance and economy of movement I have never seen in a dog. When a dog trots, no matter how refined and efficient its gait, there is always a small vertical vector present in the movement of its feet. Depending on the type of dog, this movement will be obvious or almost indiscernible. But it's always there if you look carefully enough. With Brenin, you could see no such movement. A wolf uses its ankles and large feet to propel it forwards. As a result, there's far less movement in its legs - these remain straight, and move forwards and backwards but not up and down. So, when Brenin trotted, his shoulders and back remained flat and level. From a distance it looked as if he was floating an inch or two above the ground. When he was especially happy, or pleased with himself, this would be converted into an exaggerated bounce. But his default motion was the glide. Brenin is gone now, and when I try to picture him it is difficult to furnish this picture with the details necessary to make it a concrete and living representation. But his essence is still there for me. I can still see it: the ghostly wolf in the early-morning Alabama mist, gliding effortlessly over the ground, silent, fluid and serene.

There's an excerpt at The Telegraph.

And finally, a request from a Guys Lit Wire reader who has a 14 year old nephew looking for biography recommendations. He enjoys reading about both WWII and the Roman Empire (eclectic taste, eh?). If you have any ideas please post them here in the comments or if you want to use blogger to comment (which is way easier than my MT site) then jump over to my GLW post on this same question. And while you are there read Kelly Fineman's amazing review of the poetry collection from an Iraq War veteran, Here, Bullet.