I'm seven chapters into Max Gladstone's Full Fathom Five.
This motherfucker isn't even thirty yet, and he's writing like this?
I'm having him killed.
There's your blurb, Max: "I'm having Max Gladstone killed. He's too good already to be allowed to live. If this is early work, the rest of us are out of a job."
He writes like a bitter fifty-year-old poet with a sense of narrative, and I mean that as the highest praise.
The Craft Sequence books are all about ancient necromancers in charge of corporations; liches running litigation; court battles fought by means of sorcerous contests; deities dueling by means of legal proxies and stock trading souls.
It's fantasy as a metaphor for the full metastatic flower of late-stage capitalism, and it's both vicious satire and totally engaging adventure all at once.
The book comes out in July, so you just about have time to score and read the first two, Three Parts Dead and Two Serpents Rise.