Book Review: The Demon’s Crystal by Lenard Hale

I’m not a big fan of science fiction but reading the blurb of this book, I felt that it might be an interesting read. It also mentioned the book might appeal to a fan of adventure books, which I am, so that was another plus point. To be fair to the author, I think it had its ups for sure.

The Demon’s Crystal starts off on an interesting note and sets the tone from that moment. Eric and Max going to Madagascar to explore not just the flora and fauna of the islands but also the mystery of a missing author. But they find more than just dangerous tribespeople there. And add to that a meteorite crashing in the area they want to explore, unknown gases that could be dangerous, machines that might be apt for a James Bond movie etc., you’ve definitely been set for some action.

The first third of the book was absolutely engaging for me. Even with some science terminologies that I could not make head or tails about, there was that curiosity to know what happens next that kept me turning the pages. I loved Eric and Max, and their encounter at Demon Island was well written. I liked Ivy too, and how she helps the duo even when she’s not in the main story. But as the story progressed, I began to find it more difficult to read. The adventure was there, no doubt, but the science (or fantasy) part began to be more prominent. I couldn’t quite feel the character’s emotions all the time either. I could picture a scene, but there was this nagging feeling that something was missing, and I couldn’t know what.

I think this is a book that sci-fi admirers would love to read. It would appeal to them more than to the adventure lovers. If Lenard Hale has planned a sequel to this, perhaps I’ll reread before that book releases. It might come across better then. Right now, it’s a 3-star read, at least for me. Wishing the author success with his book.


Vinay Leo R.
©A Bookworm’s Musing
10th June 2019.
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Author:

Poetry and writing are to me, a breath of fresh air in a life that is sometimes covered by the smoke of sorrow or self doubt. They also become the sweets I share to celebrate when life offers me a reason to. But most of all, they are to me, my life. For each word I write is a piece of my heart, a thought that just had to find its way into the world.

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