Loyalty. Betrayal. Friendship. Romance. Deceit. Surprises. Warfare. And yes, even death. It's all here. Yet for all of the much talked-about darkness, Half-Blood Prince also contains more laugh-out-loud lines than any entry since the first book. Clearly, author J.K. Rowling had a great deal of fun writing this one. Ron's love life and "looney" Luna Lovegood moderating a Quidditch match are among her more inspired comedic bits.

At its core, Half-Blood Prince is ultimate the story of how the man who was once Tom Riddle became the evil Lord Voldemort, complete with flashbacks to his childhood and lineage. In many ways, his is a tragic tale, full of sadness and misery. But then, it would have to be, wouldn't it? In order for him to be Harry's true arch-nemesis, their formational years would have to share many similarities. But it's clear from the start that Tom is a very different boy than Harry, as is evidenced in the choices he makes from the very start. (The choices we make being a defining attribute of who we are, is a recurring theme throughout the series).

As the cover artwork hints, Professor Dumbledore at last steps to the forefront of events in Harry's life, playing a more active role than ever. We get a much fuller, more satisfying picture of just who this remarkable man is, and why he keeps the secrets that he keeps. After their revelation-filled conversation at the end of the last book, Order of the Phoenix, it's Harry's numerous scenes with Dumbledore in this outing that crackle with the most palpable excitement. The stakes are at their highest with innocent victims suffering on all sides, but it's in Harry's private meetings with Dumbledore where we get the greatest sense of the true battle that is to come.

Harry and his pals, now sixteen years of age, wrestle with romance with heartwarming, heartbreaking, and side-splittingly funny results. In literary terms, Harry's world of magic is a magnifying glass. Just because he's a wizard doesn't change the fact that he's a teenage boy, facing many of the same trials and growing pains and hormones that all teenagers face. Magic doesn't simplify his life -- it complicates it all the more, intensifying those teenage emotions and making the drama all the more gripping.

What's obvious is that Rowling plotted this book with extreme precision and intricacy, down to the last detail. For it's in those wonderful details that Harry's world becomes real, and there are plenty of them. The thing that impresses me most about J.K. Rowling as a writer is her ability to create this entire world with its labyrinthine rules, and yet she never gets lost in them. In more amateur hands, it would be easy to write a plot in which one of those rules is violated or forgotten. But Rowling has never once lost the firm, steady grip she has upon Harry's complex world, and that's quite a feat in and of itself. Anyone can tell a great story if they set their mind to it, but it's Rowling's attention to detail and refusal to forget even the most minute events in the previous books that's her truest strength.

Rowling plants her many subtle clues throughout the narrative (watch for several more references to Harry having "his mother's eyes"), and while so many pieces of the overall puzzle are now available for us to piece together, it remains mere inches beyond our collective grasp. But her solid work here lets us know that she knows precisely where she's going -- seeding in those clues at just the right moments, subtly reminding us of seemingly minor character traits and plot points, and unveiling new depths to revelations learned in prior books. We may not know exactly where Book 7 will take us, but it's never been more obvious that every last clue and detail is going to fall flawlessly into place.

For all of the plot lines that weave so carefully together from all of the prior books, the culmination here is an obvious one: Harry has truly come of age. In Half-Blood Prince, he acts on his own impulses, trusts his instincts, and takes ownership of his actions like never before. He's grown and matured more than his fellow students could ever imagine over the last six years, and now he's ready for the final task that inevitably lies ahead. Yes, the series has grown darker with each consecutive book, but the rosy-colored view we have of life as children fades as we all grow older, doesn't it? Maturity has set in for Harry and his friends, and they have no allusions as to what will be required of them next.

The last pages of the book create a blueprint of what's to come in the seventh and final book, and if these hints are to be believed, it looks as though the concluding book in the series might just break significantly with the established mold.

One thing's for certain: when Harry Potter's legendary adventures come to an end, when we all turn that final page and read the very last lines of the very last book... we'll still be left craving more. This is storytelling magic at its very best.

The Iron Tree, book one of the Crowthistle Chronicles, tells the story of Jarred, a young man who has grown up in the desert land of Ashqaleth, one of the four kingdoms of Tir. He has lived as easy a life as any desert dweller can live, in no small part because of a protective charm that his father gave him before disappearing from Ashqaleth. Jarred has always lived up to his promise never to remove the charm and the charm has always kept him from harm, even though Jarred feels this is not right that he should have this privilege and his close friends not.

One day Jarred and his close friends decide to venture out and discover more of the world about them, visit the other kingdoms of Tir, and seek their fortune there. The first place they come to is the marshland of the kingdom of Slievmordhu, a wondrous place full of wights and water, completely alien to the desert dwellers of Ashqaleth. There he meets the beautiful Lilith who haunts his dreams and becomes his obsession and desire.

In Giver of Roses, Danae is a captive, a servant to the wife of Vartan Karayan, the royal heir of Gadiel. But Vartan's sister, Zagiri, a woman who dares to believe in Athan (God), has befriended Danae, and Danae embraces that faith and is able to find joy and love from afar. She is heroic and courageous, a warrior for Athan and though it breaks her heart, she is willing to bear the burden to secretly love Vartan, her presence being only to lend an ear when necessary. Danae's self-sacrifice, valor and nobility are admirable, and believable.

Vartan is Gadiel's most able warrior. In a last-ditch attempt to end the siege against his city of Astara, he agrees to fight to the death against Ladon, a savage, unfeeling brute from Danae's home place. Vartan is critically wounded and left for dead on the battlefield. The surviving citizens of Astara, who are able, flee to safety. Vartan's wife commits suicide, taking her son with her, adding to the devastation.

Zagiri and Danae venture onto the battlefield and discover Vartan barely alive. Together, they manage to carry him away and secret themselves away from Ladon, giving Vartan time to heal. But Vartan is blind and the more he learns about the battle, the more he falls into depression, leaning on Danae for support and learning about the mysterious Athan she serves.

The action keeps moving forward and Vartan finds himself a captive, scheduled to be put to death, but left for dead in the desert instead. He emerges, healed of his blindness, bearing a prophetic blue rose. Meanwhile, Danae is drawn into the world of the Dragonmaids, a holy order of warrior-women who bond telepathically with dragons and fight only by the guidance of Athan.

Author Kathleen Morgan has crafted a world of good and evil and fantastical creatures, including dragons, healers, demons and humans, all intertwined into the fulfillment of an ancient prophecy: that an important man would someday come out of the Desert carrying blue roses - a man worthy of being the Guardian of Gadiel.

An epic journey begins in this first book of the series, and without faltering, entices the reader to step into the fantastical world of Morgan's imagination and believe, for a short time, that the events are true. Morgan leaves several open endings to lead into the next book, which is a good thing - this is a story that begs to continue.

Heroes and heroines who are truly noble, but flawed, and who are ready to do the bidding of their Creator with no guarantee of the outcome, are few and far between. Giver of Roses is a welcome addition to the fantasy-fiction genre, and can hold its place with other epics, such as Lord of the Rings and Chronicles of Narnia.

The reader is introduced to Miss Ella in the lowercased Roman numeral pages of the preface, and she continues to speak to her young charges throughout the narrative. Wrapped In Rain, by Charles Martin, takes us into the troubled South and chews us up on the scenery, the dialect's drawl, and the humidity of late October. Mutt and Tucker Mason are raised in their father's home by Miss Ella, a young (in the beginning) black woman hired as a housekeeper but expected to be their nanny. She takes the responsibility as she seems to do everything else: doing her best, pleasing the Lord, and teaching them from her own experience and from those who've taught her. The boys' father, Rex Mason, is evidently rich and important, inferiority feeding self-indulgence and greed - too rich and too important to be expected to live at home raising children. When he is home, his own demons get the best of him, and anger and alcohol lash out at everyone in the house, Miss Ella included.

With a style that flows as two parts Grisham and one part Faulkner, Martin draws the reader in with first person narrative for Tuck, flashback chapters, third-person observation of other characters and a very descriptive and engaging prose. His descriptions of Clark's, a typical southern creek side seafood joint, actually made me hungry while laughing at how I've been in places just like that. New characters are introduced for story-flow, but the main thread of Mutt's escape from the mental hospital and Tuck's journey back through his own repressed memories, along with Miss Ella's steady guidance even years after passing away, is what feeds this story and keeps the reader turning pages.

Martin's first novel, The Dead Don't Dance, has already been adapted for a Hallmark movie to be broadcast in the future. The same could be done with this novel. The reader is drawn to the characters, drawn to the scenery, drawn to the unfolding story - all that's needed for a deep and challenging summer novel.

In Wonkamania, author Kris Rasmussen succeeds in taking the book and the first film, looking at the plot points and the metaphors thrown out by the characterizations, and noting some really thoughtful points concerning our lives and the way we should live. It works well as Rasmussen works at making these points without being preachy and making things insightful. The book includes other highlights, such as key questions for further discussion and sidebars of information offering a behind-the-scenes look into the movie.

It's easy to point fingers at the characters and be able to see in hindsight what their fatal flaws where, what kept them from ultimate consideration in Wonka's master plan. Mike is the boy who loves television and would spend his life as a couch potato if that's what's available; Veruca is impatient and wants everything now now now; Violet brags about every little thing, competitive to a fault. Other characters and situations are open for interpretation and application for spiritual guidance, too. What's really positive about this book and the experience of it is that Rasmussen doesn't simply pull out the bad characteristics and the good characteristics and provide a prooftexted spiritual point or two. Instead, the author digs into the culture today for current stories and applications, and asks hard questions about what laziness really is (Mike might be a slacker, but it's laziness plus willful apathy that brings disobedient slothfulness); about what it means to be selfish and to raise kids properly (Violet is a braggart, but her mother's perfectionism is as much to blame); about how "good people" have their faults and bad tendencies (even Charlie isn't perfect, showing his own shortcomings in the tour through the factory).

Without talking down to her audience, which would be easy with what amounts to a children's book and a PG kids' movie, Rasmussen makes the reader think about what's important in living life, what's meaningful in dealing with others, and what's fun about a tour through a candy factory that tastes good and might help us grow spiritually, too.

Imagine having to choose between two people to live or die. That's what Billy Wiles finds happening in his life one horrible night. While leaving his bartending job, Billy finds a note on his windshield that says:

"If you don't take this note to the police and get them involved, I will kill a lovely blond schoolteacher somewhere in Napa County. If you do take this note to the police, I will instead kill an elderly woman active in charity work. You have six hours to decide. The choice is yours."

At first, Bill can't believe it's real, but after the first murder as a result of his choice, he realizes the nightmare he's found himself in. With each new note, the deadline comes sooner, and the choices become harder to make. And by the time he realizes what the murders are ultimately adding up to, it may be too late to stop them.

Koontz has heightened things to an almost unbelievable level. While the book starts a little slow, by the time Billy finds the second note, the pace begins to speed up. Soon it's all you can do to hold on. The intensity builds with each chapter, and Koontz has done a masterful job of letting you feel the sheer hopelessness of the main character as he finds himself the target of a psychopath's game. Every time you think you know who the killer is, that person seems to end up his next victim.

The only downside to this book is the short chapters. Koontz takes these incredibly intense scenes and then ends the chapter right in the middle of them. While I understand the need to "end on a high note" and keep the reader turning pages, some of the scenes are actually robbed of their impact because of this.

To best enjoy this book, don't keep trying to figure things out. Instead, just strap in and enjoy the ride. With several hits and misses in his catalog, it's safe to say Velocity is another winner.

Seventeen-year-old Jeremy Prine opens the novel mourning for his mother. Driven by her dying request, he sets out on a mission to reunite with his estranged uncle. Strange is an appropriate adjective to describe Snake, Jeremy's father's brother, who left the family after the mining accident that killed Jeremy's father and burned Snake.

Jeremy's journey takes almost a third of the book. Through several nefarious encounters along the way, he ends up at his uncle's mine with nothing but change in his pocket and his mother's letter in his wallet. Snake meanwhile, continues to hole up in the ground and his apartment to avoid the stares his skin grafts draw and the reality that he lives while his brother does not.

Any Southern gothic novel worth its salt must contain a motley crew of characters and this one shakes out several fine examples. Weaver is a transitory miner, who lives in his decrepit camper and pulls up stakes every few months to avoid the IRS. Nanny and Geech are an inseparable Abbott and Costello until one fateful shift when Geech is assigned to work with Weaver. Profane Biggins is the bully mechanic, who oversees Jeremy's first hellish months at the mine.

Cramer paces his novel with Southern moderation, holding off the first inevitable mining crisis until we've lived with these characters, experienced their practical jokes, heard the fondness behind their nicknames, stripped next to them in the hog house, and finally come to understand them. By the time of Geech's accident, we care for these men and want nothing bad to befall them even in the midst of such a dangerous way of life.

Bad Ground is classic genre-writing in the same vein as To Kill a Mockingbird. This novel even has a bird metaphor, though it's a crazy red bird rather than a singing mockingbird. Cramer also includes a Boo Radley character in the form of a mysterious female neighbor whom Jeremy calls "Swan" and Snake calls "China Girl."

On the cliché side, there's also the wise-but-a-bit-crazy old black man archetype, a perfectly written part for Morgan Freeman. And while we're namedropping, I wonder if it's an unwritten literary rule that an Atlanta-set Christian novel must contain a cameo by Jimmy and Rosalyn Carter? In any case, at least Weaver's encounter with Atlanta's royal couple serves to develop his character. The incident is superfluous and would be cut from a screenplay, but it has its place in Bad Ground.

Played against the backdrop of this assortment of colorful characters, the central story between Jeremy and Uncle Aidan (Germy and Snake to the miners) comes into focus with power and poignancy. I will not spoil the gut-wrenching plot point that brings their fractured relationship to a head, but I will commend Cramer on the deft manner in which he resolves each of their respective demons in a mutually beneficial way.

By way of personal preference, I note that the book has chapter titles. I love this little novelistic tool, because each chapter becomes a short story within the novel, an episode within a television season, if you will, and gives the reader/viewer natural breaks to contemplate what happened and how this affects the overall tale.

Bad Ground is a finely crafted novel that succeeds on multiple levels. Cramer has created yet another tale that both critics and audiences can enjoy.

Staub has focused on culture's search for something more, spiritually speaking, which today sometimes has nothing to do with organized religion. Staub is an optimist, viewing today's culture as one that often doesn't understand the greatness it presents within art. Part of his mission is to listen to and facilitate that cultural conversation. His radio show has been on the air since 1987 and after years as an interviewer, he is emerging as one of today's leading observers of belief in popular culture. He has won the Cardinal's Award for excellence in broadcasting and is author of various articles and one other book, Too Christian, Too Pagan, where he dissects the concept of being "too pagan for your Christian friends and too Christian for your pagan friends."

Staub associates the striving Christian with the "Jedi" right off the bat by referring to the reader continually as "Jedi Christian." He calls God by the name "Lord of the Force" and then chapter by chapter shows us the similarities and ultimate limitations of the Star Wars-defined Force. The fact that chapters are grouped in actions, such as, Seeking, Knowing, Fighting and Serving definitely keeps one organized mentally, which assists in getting the Author's points across. Each chapter also is prefaced with a couple of quotes, typically one from Star Wars and one from the Bible. At the beginning of the book I found this very helpful, however as chapters went on, the Star Wars quotes could be weak (i.e., using Luke Skywalker's relationship with a robot, R2D2, as an example for friendship, rather than Han Solo or Obi Wan Kenobi).

Staub comes across as a well-read individual, with quotes and samples of works from C.S. Lewis, JRR Tolkien, Henry David Thoreau and others. But the real backbone of how the writer pulls this endeavor off is clearly his knowledge of the Bible. After awhile, the Star Wars tie-in is nice, but ultimately the "apprentice" Christian is spoken to the most. I would be surprised if this was not Staub's ultimate goal, and though it comes through loud and clear, it is not forced. So as not to discourage the true George Lucas-bred Jedi, Mr. Staub uses anecdotes from Luke, Han, Anakin, Yoda, et al throughout the book and has certainly done his homework on that front.

Staub clearly states that this book is not approved, licensed or sponsored by anyone legally representing the Star Wars world. He mentions the Star Wars' creator very briefly. Having said that, Christian Wisdom of the Jedi Masters is a wonderful tribute to the franchise as well as a meaningful study of this Jedi group that Lucas has created and the strong character traits they represent. Maybe Mr. Lucas should give Staub a thank you call.

Leisha Kelly has written several Depression-era novels (Rorey's Secret, Julia's Hope), but for this novel she's chosen to go a different route and thus the name change to L.A. Kelly. Tahn is definitely different than the historical books she's known for.

Lady Netta of the House of Trillet is awakened in the middle of the night by a somehow-familiar stranger attempting to kidnap her. What makes it even more bizarre is his claim that he's trying to save her. With shades of Oliver Twist, Tahn Dorn is an orphan raised a mercenary by a cruel man named Samis. But rather than pickpocketing, Tahn learns to kill. When he finally reaches the age he feels he can stand alone, he tries to break from his brutal lifestyle and save Lady Netta in the process because she has been targeted as the next to die.

David A. Zimmerman's Comic Book Character is one of the many recent books written to defend the reading of comics. Whereas other books (like Greg Garrett's Holy Superheroes!) have taken a more textually critic approach, Zimmerman approaches comics in a "self-help"mode: he methodically shows how issues put forth in comics actually support values espoused by the Bible. And if we look at the subtitle - "Unleashing the Hero in Us All"- we see that this is what Zimmerman was aiming for.

With a topic like this, there aren't many ways to approach it, so Zimmerman's approach is not unique or innovative, but it does answer the main thesis of how comics reveal Christian virtues. In a number of concise chapters, Zimmerman looks at standard virtues, beginning each chapter with a discussion of a comic character or two and concluding with how the Bible supports this virtue.

Ultimately, though, this book is not for the avid comic fan: it is not an apologetic handbook for the faithful, but an apologetic argument for the skeptical. Modern comics consist of a lot more than superheroes, but to the uninitiated the field is Superman, Batman, Spider-Man, and possibly the X-Men. Thus, Zimmerman focuses mostly on the familiar heroes, ignoring the more sophisticated heroes and comics out there. After all, in writing for an audience not familiar with comics, it is perhaps best to start simple.

But that doesn't mean that Zimmerman's book is simplistic (although it does venture in that direction at moments). Underneath this simple reading of comics and their virtues is a deep understanding of how comics work and what their non-self-help-book virtues are. Perhaps a follow-up book by Zimmerman will dig deeper into the ways Christians can faithfully read comics, but until then, Zimmerman has still written a good defense showing how comics are not going to rot the minds of today's youth.