Review of "Animal Revenge" by David Bush

​Score: 95/100 (9.5 out of 10)

David Bush is back, baby!
And he's back with a vengeance!

Animal Revenge is the best book by Bush since General Jack and the Battle of the Five Kingdoms, our 2023 Fiction Book of the Year Runner-Up!

Animal Quest was ok but also seemed bloated and meandering. Animals Divided had an interesting premise, but the long history lesson at the end of it was more interesting and entertaining than the story itself. But Animal Revenge just hits differently. It's engaging from beginning to end—cover to cover.

So what makes this book so good? Well, it's the characters. It's the dynamics. This series always had ambitious character dynamics from Miaow & Jack to Jonas & Big Bertha, but Cassius, Flavia, and the Emperor just hit differently for some reason.

We think we know why they work as the book's core trio.

It's because this book is so much more focused than any other book Bush has submitted so far. All of his other books were filled to the brim with characters. There was always so much happening and so much to keep track of, compounded by all the craziness happening in the setting and time-period (Black Death, Great Schism, etc.).

In other words, because other books in the series had so many characters and because the other books were so convoluted, it was often difficult to get emotionally invested. It always seemed like the focus of the narrative wanted to take you elsewhere when you really just wanted to stay with the characters and get to know them as individuals.

For example, in Animal Quest, Lazy Bones (the cow), Stig (the goat), Woolly-Bo (the sheep), Magnus & Marcus (dogs), and Per (a piglet) all seemed like window dressing. They really didn't need to be in the story for the story to happen. Yes, they added some flavor (as farm animals tend to do), but they also weren't necessary.

However, in Animal Revenge, the main characters are interesting, engaging, fleshed out, and understandable.

Let's just start with our favorite character in the book: Flavia, the Emperor's adopted daughter and the le eminence grise (power behind the throne) of the falling Roman Empire.

Flavia is such an interesting character because she's neither purely evil nor purely good. She's a gray character—somewhere in between. She's multifaceted, three-dimensional, dynamic, and—most importantly—interesting to read about.

Despite having some pull and authority, she's still in an extremely tough situation sandwiched between two extremely powerful, influential, and increasingly-unstable people (Cassius and the Emperor), trying desperately not to set off a powder keg that would lead to a civil war. All the while, there are these Brownlandian invaders (similar to the Goths, Visigoths, and Huns) threatening to take the seat of power from without; meanwhile, the pugnaces (representing the Praetorian Guard) are on the verge of rebellion and assassinating the increasingly-unpopular Emperor. You could even add the discontent lions who show up later.

The future of Rome is so uncertain and troublesome, and—what do you know?—nothing means more to Flavia than Rome. She would do anything to save it and to secure its future, even tempting, manipulating, marrying, and breeding with her dad's budding arch-rival, Cassius, a legendary war hero (akin to Julius Caesar) and a molossus dog. Unlike Animals Divided, Animal Revenge does an excellent job at explaining why the dog breed is so important int he context of the story. The characters aren't just dogs for the sake of being dogs. Cassius isn't just a molossus for the sake of being a molossus—being a molossus is truly special in the context of history as well as in the story. These huge dogs (some 200 lbs.) of the ancient world were treasured and highly-valued by the ancient Greek and Romans. They were seen as excellent fighters and guardians—the best of the best. They're like the Spartans of the dog world!

Unfortunately, purebreed molossus dogs have pretty much gone extinct, although their genes still exist in large dog breeds like Saint Bernards and mastiffs. We imagine that Alabais probably share some genes too since they fit closely with the huge, fighter-dog description of the molossus.

Anyway, Flavia plans to create a dynastic union and breed with Cassius, ensuring that their children will not only have a claim to the Roman scepter, crown, and throne, but also that their children will be physically and genetically superior to all of their competitors. They will be bigger, stronger, and—presumably—smarter than anything coming out of the other Landias. It would save and preserve Rome in more ways than one. Flavia is intelligent and clever enough to realize this.

And those are some of the best things about Flavia: her intellect and her cunning. She is like a chess player, always thinking several moves ahead.

Perhaps it would be best to set the scene a bit to explain why Flavia would come up with a plan like this.

Her step-dad, the Emperor, is losing it. Not only is he losing his power and influence to all of these other forces, he's also losing his mind. He hinges on the idea that only fear can keep him in power, saying that, "Rome is red. Power is red, nothing can break it. They want blood, we give them more and more blood."

In other words, the Emperor—the villain of this book (think of him like Caligula or Nero)—wants to use violence in the form of war, the colliseum, and executions to keep his grip on Rome.

However, Flavia constantly admonishes him that he needs the love and support of the people.

Cassius has the love and support of the people, which makes him the biggest internal threat to the Emperor's authority (alongside the pugnaces who very clearly despise him). Cassius isn't just any war hero, he is the hero who did what some said couldn't be done—what many other generals and soldiers failed to do: defeat and capture Jackat, a nigh-mythological enemy descended from Miaow, the legendary cat from General Jack and the Battle of the Five Kingdoms.

Jackat actually becomes like a Force Ghost throughout the book, speaking to Cassius and causing him headaches. Remember when we said that Cassius is also becoming increasingly-unstable like the Emperor? Well, we weren't kidding. He hears voices in his head.

But unlike the Emperor and unlike Flavia, Cassius is actually, genuinely a good person.

However, Flavia isn't about doing good or doing the right thing, she's about doing the practical thing—about doing what's best for Rome. Flavia is a pragmatic person. She does what she needs to do to get from Point A to Point B, even if it means poisoning Maximus, Cassius's partially-blind and partially-paralyzed father-figure.

Why would she do such a terrible thing? Well, because Maximus living and needing constant care and attention is the reason why Cassius refuses to move into the palace to live with Flavia.

But Flavia doesn't just have Maximus poisoned and moves on with a clear conscience. It clearly bothers her. She tries to justify it by looking at the bigger picture. She tries to convince herself that Maximus was in very poor health and would've died soon after anyway. We see glimpses of Flavia's feelings of regret and remorse throughout the book. It seems like she's constantly trying to convince the Emperor to be less violent, to show some compassion and remorse, to spare Cassius (for example), and to limit or stop the bloodshed. Yes, there are probably more pragmatic reasons why she does this, such as preventing a civil war or a coupe, but you can also tell that Flavia has a heart.

It might not be as big, shiny, and beautiful as Cassius's heart, but it is significantly bigger, shiner, and more beautiful than the Emperor's.

Is she the lesser of two evils? Yes. But she also has the potential to be the solution and even the outright heroine of the story if only circumstances were different.

Think about it: Flavia is step-daughter of an evil, sadistic tyrant who makes brash and irrational decisions. There's even a brief reference that her parents met a grim fate. Imagine growing up and living under someone like that.

How would you expect that person to turn out good or even ok?

Another example of Flavia having a heart is how she responds to the violence and slaughter of humans and animals in the coliseum. Yes, she claps but only to appease the Emperor and because the crowd is doing it. The look on her face is one of disapproval and even remorse. She looks and turns away from the bloodshed when she can. It clearly bothers her.

If she were purely evil or as sadistic as her step-father, she would not react to violence this way. There's a scene in which the crazed Emperor bathes himself in sheep blood, and Flavia is absolutely flabbergasted by the waste of life. She's speechless.

There's another scene in which she refuses to talk to her dad for some time because his cronies try to kill Cassius, a person she has gained respect and affection for.

Flavia goes from being a manipulator and schemer to becoming Cassius's truest believer, saying, "Surely he will come" until her last breath. It's incredibly sad and tragic, actually, but also very powerful.

Flavia ends up associating with and living with people whom the Emperor had persecuted and looked down on. It's an incredible, remarkable arc—one of the best in the contest so far.

And let's just say that Cassius is a pretty awesome character too. Cassius is a badass. In one scene, he fights like 200 lions! Yes, he passes out and enters a death-like state because of a performance enhancing substance, but it's still pretty cool!

He's sort of like Maximus from Gladiator in the sense that he gains favor from the masses that makes the Emperor jealous.

Hey, we also learned a lot from this book. Did you know that there was a time in Rome in which 23 of 26 emperors were murdered, usually by their own Praetorian Guard? Wow, that's crazy!

The writing is also eloquent, as you would expect from a David Bush book. The man just has a knack with words!

We get the passage:

"The breath that clouds the mirror clears, and the reflection is bright again. But the mirror is tarnished at last by breath upon breath until it rusts."

We also get the passage:
"So often reform is nothing but an attempt to transmogrify others into what the reformers
are themselves, so content are they with their own perfected imperfections. And then, reformers are so full of hatred. They abhor everyone who disagrees with them, and they even come to loathe the people who don’t want to be reformed.”

It's interesting to note that Flavia, who was a somewhat villainous character up to this point, is called a "reformer" in this section.

There are actually some great analogies and metaphors used in this book, particularly as it pertains to the relationship between Flavia and the Emperor.

Flavia is compared to a "glove" while the Emperor is compared to a "hand."

We are told: "Flavia and her father are made for each other. He is the cart rolling downhill, and she has the hard job of being the brakes to prevent him smashing himself to pieces at the bottom."

What's extra interesting about this is that Livia, Cassius's love-interest and a victim in all this, actually says, "Poor Flavia."

So, when Livia and Flavia finally meet, with the fates of Livia and her family hanging in the balance, it's particularly meaningful.

Now, to be perfectly honest, we would've preferred if Livia weren't in this book. We were really adamant about the Flavia-Cassius paring. Yes, we know it would be very political and gained through some degree of manipulation and homicide (of Maximus), but it would be cool.

Check it out on Amazon!