Mark Lawrence is one of those authors that I've meant to review for a long time. I thoroughly enjoyed his debut Prince of Thorns after picking it up as an impulse buy from the Science Fiction Book Club what feels like eons ago. When the SFBC didn't offer the subsequent books in the series, I allowed my OCD need to have all the books in a series in the same format stop me from reading the rest of the series. I know it's weird but I promise, I'm mostly sane. So when the first installment of his second series Prince of Fools hit shelves, I snatched it up. Then life took a turn for the busy and I stopped reading almost entirely. Fast forward almost a year, and here we are.
Prince of Fools has everything I loved about Prince of Thorns with a much more relatable protagonist than teen sociopath Jorg Ancrath, so readers with more delicate sensibilities can rest a bit easier. Lawrence's tersely elegant prose and well crafted characters are in full evidence and the world building is just as effortless as readers of The Broken Empire have come to expect. I suspect some of that is due to the connection to the previous series, Though my long gap in reading Lawrence as well as having not finished the previous series (a situation I expect to remedy in the coming months) rendered all but the most obvious connections meaningless to me. Even as a standalone, Prince of Fools is a joy to read and readers who haven't read the previous series can start here with no significant disadvantage. Just dive in and enjoy, I guarantee you won't be disappointed.
Showing posts with label Epic Fantasy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Epic Fantasy. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 30, 2014
Tuesday, February 25, 2014
The Grim Company by Luke Scull
The more I read and, by extension review, in speculative fiction the less I enjoy the stereo-typical fantasy novels that populated my reading prior to the start of this blog. Maybe it's the weight of my growing awareness of the tropes and archetypes of the genre or the expansion of my reading habits into different arenas of the genre. It takes more and more to impress me, and I keep looking for fresher perspectives, characters, and voices. Which brings me to Luke Scull's debut, The Grim Company. To put it bluntly, there's not a lot new in this first volume in a proposed trilogy. I've seen versions of these characters, this setting, and this plot before and I've seen them many, many times. A well versed reader could easily pick analogues of any of the principles characters without a shred of effort. Readers expecting to have their minds blown by something completely unexpected and ground breaking should probably look elsewhere. But readers looking for an expertly paced tale with well crafted characters that packs a mountain of world building into a mole hill of a novel should definitely not miss this novel. Scull may not blow you away with his originality, but he shows a deft hand at character, pace, dialogue, and world building that one rarely finds in a debut novel. Fans of the grimdark movement and complex characters who run the gamut of morality are in for a treat. If this is Scull's freshman effort, the following volumes should be even better.
Wednesday, January 22, 2014
The Emperor's Blades by Brian Staveley
With the giants of epic fantasy taking longer and longer between installments, genre aficionados are constantly looking for the next big thing and if the hype is to be believed Brian Staveley's debut The Emperor's Blade may just be it. With a familiar plot structure, characters that are comfortably similar to old fictional friends, and a subtle magical system that begs to be explored in more depth there is certainly plenty to recommend in this first volume. Whether or not the strength of Staveley's story telling can overcome the essential sameness of it all and the few problematic choices in his handling of female characters is the real question.
Wednesday, October 9, 2013
Range of Ghosts by Elizabeth Bear
Elizabeth Bear is one of those writers who I’ve been meaning to read for a long time. Her body of work is universally well regarded, and many reviewers whose opinion I trust have raved about Range of Ghosts. I’ve recently made a commitment to gender parity in the reviews on the site, and Range of Ghosts was the first title that immediately came to mind. It’s really a shame that I waited this long. Bear turns in a unique and exquisitely layered tale that avoids almost every trope in the epic fantasy handbook without ever risking alienating the entrenched fans of the genre. Bear has vaulted easily onto my list of must read authors with this opening volume of her first foray into epic fantasy.Monday, July 29, 2013
The Crown Tower by Michael J. Sullivan
I'm confident that having a popular and well received series is the dream for most authors. Unfortunately, many authors of such series develop what I like to call "cash cow" disease, and their series drag on coming more and more bloated as the author milks every last drop of financial success from the property, diluting what was once a intriguing property by forgetting that sometimes less is more. When I heard that Michael J. Sullivan was releasing prequel novels to his excellent and completed Riyria Revelations, I worried that any return to the lives of Hadrian and Royce would pale in comparison to the completed series. Sullivan closed the door on these characters well and left almost no unanswered questions on the table, leaving my concerned that these prequel novels would be irrelevant to the series as a whole. I couldn't have been more wrong. The Crown Tower is a worthy addition to the Riyria property, full of the excellent characterization and light-hearted sense of adventure that made Sullivan such a success. More importantly it deepens the readers understanding of the protagonists and adds a richness to the preceeding books thus rewarding readers that have already devoured the preceding six volumes.
The books back copy follows:
Sullivan also structures the story so that it can be read either as the beginning of the series or in the order of publication. There are benefits to both approaches, as Sullivan seeds the narrative with nods to the events of his previous novels. These tips of the hat, give the long time reader a sense of being in on the process, and they rarely feel forced. Newer readers who approach the series through the prequel novels first ,will benefit of seeing the pay off, with Sullivan's careful attention to not spoil the tension and big reveals of the later books with his nods to his legions of fans.
Sullivan also introduces Gwen DeLancey as a point of view characters for the first time in The Crown Tower. With the majority of the female protagonists not appearing until much later in the series' timelines, it makes perfect sense that Gwen would be used in such a way. This choice also adds depth to a well loved supporting character and makes Gwen's later relationship to one of our heroes make much better sense. These sections were some of my favorites, not just because of the newness of them but due to expert way that Sullivan portrays Gwen. Though she starts the novel as a prostitute in a hole of a brothel, she never lacks agency and Sullivan handles the more adult themes of her circumstances with a touch that is light, but yet not so squeaky clean as to become unrealistic. Gwen is just as much the hero of her story as Royce and Hadrian and the fact that she stays far removed from their exploits only strengthens her as a compelling protagonist. I certainly am looking forward to more of her story in the rapidly approaching The Rose and the Thorn.
The Crown Tower is Sullivan doing what he does best. As I've said in other reviews of Sullivan's work, if you are looking for a return to the fantasy of your youth that manages to still feel relevant without burying itself in the grit and blood of Abercrombie, Martin, or Morgan, then you should look no further. Snappy banter, desperate stakes, pulse pounding sword play, and good old fashioned heroics are all on full display here. Everything you've come to expect from the adventures of Hadrian and Royce is contained within the pages and with the addition of Gwen's chapters there is a richness that I certainly wouldn't have expected in what so easily could have been a "cash cow" add on to a beloved series. I hope that there are many more novels to fill in the twelve year gap between The Crown Tower and Theft of Swords, especially if they are half as good as this one.
The books back copy follows:
TWO MEN WHO HATE EACH OTHER.Sullivan begins The Crown Tower before his protagonists have met and allows the reader to spend quite a bit of time with Hadrian before he begins his association with Royce. This was a inspired choice, giving readers time to soak up the difference between this younger, and surprisingly even more idealistic version of the character they have grown to love. This becomes very important as the easy familiarity and friendship between the warrior and assassin are nowhere to be found in this volume. Sullivan doesn't take the easy route to establish the character's partnership. This is far less about their first adventure than it is about the process of forging the bond between them. The sparks fly and there is plenty of bickering replacing the banter of the Riyria Revelations. In a lot of ways the snark is even more entertaining when there is real vehemence behind it, but the sense of humor that underlies it all hints at the partnership that readers know is coming. Sullivan does an excellent job of showing why these two loners need each other and how the pairing of their skills and world views will strengthen and eventually redeem them both.
ONE IMPOSSIBLE MISSION.
A LEGEND IN THE MAKING.
A warrior with nothing to fight for is paired with a thieving assassin with nothing to lose. Together they must steal a treasure that no one can reach. The Crown Tower is the impregnable remains of the grandest fortress ever built and home to the realm’s most valuable possessions. But it isn’t gold or jewels the old wizard is after, and this prize can only be obtained by the combined talents of two remarkable men. Now if Arcadias can just keep Hadrian and Royce from killing each other, they just might succeed.
Sullivan also structures the story so that it can be read either as the beginning of the series or in the order of publication. There are benefits to both approaches, as Sullivan seeds the narrative with nods to the events of his previous novels. These tips of the hat, give the long time reader a sense of being in on the process, and they rarely feel forced. Newer readers who approach the series through the prequel novels first ,will benefit of seeing the pay off, with Sullivan's careful attention to not spoil the tension and big reveals of the later books with his nods to his legions of fans.
Sullivan also introduces Gwen DeLancey as a point of view characters for the first time in The Crown Tower. With the majority of the female protagonists not appearing until much later in the series' timelines, it makes perfect sense that Gwen would be used in such a way. This choice also adds depth to a well loved supporting character and makes Gwen's later relationship to one of our heroes make much better sense. These sections were some of my favorites, not just because of the newness of them but due to expert way that Sullivan portrays Gwen. Though she starts the novel as a prostitute in a hole of a brothel, she never lacks agency and Sullivan handles the more adult themes of her circumstances with a touch that is light, but yet not so squeaky clean as to become unrealistic. Gwen is just as much the hero of her story as Royce and Hadrian and the fact that she stays far removed from their exploits only strengthens her as a compelling protagonist. I certainly am looking forward to more of her story in the rapidly approaching The Rose and the Thorn.
The Crown Tower is Sullivan doing what he does best. As I've said in other reviews of Sullivan's work, if you are looking for a return to the fantasy of your youth that manages to still feel relevant without burying itself in the grit and blood of Abercrombie, Martin, or Morgan, then you should look no further. Snappy banter, desperate stakes, pulse pounding sword play, and good old fashioned heroics are all on full display here. Everything you've come to expect from the adventures of Hadrian and Royce is contained within the pages and with the addition of Gwen's chapters there is a richness that I certainly wouldn't have expected in what so easily could have been a "cash cow" add on to a beloved series. I hope that there are many more novels to fill in the twelve year gap between The Crown Tower and Theft of Swords, especially if they are half as good as this one.
Friday, May 17, 2013
Coming Attractions: The Crimson Campaign by Brian McClellan
While I'm perhaps a bit late for the party, those who enjoyed Brian McClellan's Promise of Blood, will be pleased to see that cover art and the synopsis have been released by Orbit. Based on the strength of McClellan's debut, I'm already anxious to return to Tamas, Adamat, and Taniel's adventure and really hope that McClellan has some new POV characters to add to the mix.
The publisher's synopsis follows:
I vastly enjoyed Promise of Blood, and strongly feel that McClellan is poised to join the ranks of authors like Weeks, Brett, and Cole who get better with each new release. The Crimson Campaign looks to be a step in that direction if the marketing materials are any indication.
The publisher's synopsis follows:
'The hounds at our heels will soon know we are lions'
Tamas's invasion of Kez ends in disaster when a Kez counter-offensive leaves him cut off behind enemy lines with only a fraction of his army, no supplies, and no hope of reinforcements. Drastically outnumbered and pursued by the enemy's best, he must lead his men on a reckless march through northern Kez to safety, and back over the mountains so that he can defend his country from an angry god. Tamas's invasion of Kez ends in disaster when a Kez counter-offensive leaves him cut off behind enemy lines with only a fraction of his army, no supplies, and no hope of reinforcements. Drastically outnumbered and pursued by the enemy's best, he must lead his men on a reckless march through northern Kez to safety, and back over the mountains so that he can defend his country from an angry god.
In Adro, Inspector Adamat only wants to rescue his wife. To do so he must track down and confront the evil Lord Vetas. He has questions for Vetas concerning his enigmatic master, but the answers might come too quickly.
With Tamas and his powder cabal presumed dead, Taniel Two-shot finds himself alongside the god-chef Mihali as the last line of defence against Kresimir's advancing army. Tamas's generals bicker among themselves, the brigades lose ground every day beneath the Kez onslaught, and Kresimir wants the head of the man who shot him in the eye.
I vastly enjoyed Promise of Blood, and strongly feel that McClellan is poised to join the ranks of authors like Weeks, Brett, and Cole who get better with each new release. The Crimson Campaign looks to be a step in that direction if the marketing materials are any indication.
Saturday, May 4, 2013
Promise of Blood by Brian McClellan
My relationship with Promise of Blood is complicated in the way teen aged love affairs are complicated. Let me explain. I've been eyeing McClellan's debut from the first time I heard about Brent Weeks calling it "flintlock" fantasy and thus got my first look at the cover and blurb. Sounds promising right? Well like those aloof unattainable ladies of my teen aged years, Promise of Blood just wouldn't look back. I entered contest after contest, emailed the publisher, searched Net Galley to no avail. Then insult came to visit and added to my injury. A close friend had won a signed ARC! The nerve, the betrayal. But I was steadfast, finally managing to get a copy from NetGalley on release day. The object of my affections was mine. So what's the end of the story you say? Well, to put it like I might have 25 years ago. She's just as pretty as I thought. We had a good time, but I just don't know. Will I take her out the next chance I get? You bet your sweet ass.
And the blurb that started this mess:
The Age of Kings is dead . . . and I have killed it.
It's a bloody business overthrowing a king...Field Marshal Tamas' coup against his king sent corrupt aristocrats to the guillotine and brought bread to the starving. But it also provoked war with the Nine Nations, internal attacks by royalist fanatics, and the greedy to scramble for money and power by Tamas's supposed allies: the Church, workers unions, and mercenary forces.
It's up to a few...Stretched to his limit, Tamas is relying heavily on his few remaining powder mages, including the embittered Taniel, a brilliant marksman who also happens to be his estranged son, and Adamat, a retired police inspector whose loyalty is being tested by blackmail.
But when gods are involved...Now, as attacks batter them from within and without, the credulous are whispering about omens of death and destruction. Just old peasant legends about the gods waking to walk the earth. No modern educated man believes that sort of thing. But they should...
Pretty shapely little package, isn't it. Well have no fear, McClellan delivers on the promise of the concept and the fantastic cover. Promise of Blood is exactly what you'd expect, an action packed thriller full of bullets, bad-assess, and blood. But rated PG-13, like all teen aged girl-friends should be.
All kidding aside, McClellan tells an engaging story, with a surprisingly diverse cast (in most cases), multiple intriguing magic systems, and a pleasant mix of action, mystery, and old school fantasy. All of this set in an historical time period (albeit, a fantasy equivalent) that gets scarcely any love from the genre. It's a compelling setting too, with the tension of not only the political revolution but also a magical and industrial one. Those forces power the majority of the conflict in the novel, no battle ground left unsurveyed. There is plenty of military action, political espionage, gods, monsters and enough magical fireworks that you just might think it is Bastille Day.
That's where McClellan really shines. It's no coincidence at all that McClellan, as a former student of Brandon Sanderson, delivers a variety of intricate and well designed magical abilities for his characters to play with. It would be easy to write off McClellan as Sanderson 2.0, but that would be a mistake. While McClellan's powder mages do seem to be a slightly different take on the Allomantic coinshots from Sanderson's Mistborn novels, the pitting of this type of magic against the aristocratic elemental magic of the Privileged takes the mechanical and turns into something more thematic. The fact that gunpowder is also addictive, and one of the main viewpoint characters is definitely in the need of a step or twelve is another nice touch. There's even more magic at play as well. Lesser magical abilities such as the ability go without sleep indefinitely are possessed by another group called the Knacked, and there is the mysterious magic of the savage Ka-Poel and a mad god or two thrown in for good measure. As settings go, this is one of the more interesting ones I've encountered in the category of epic-fantasy in quite a while.
His character choices are an interesting mix as well. With Field Marshall Tamas and the investigator Adamat both well beyond the age of the typical farm boy protagonist, McClellan manages to make compelling action heroes of both older men without resorting to stereotypical over the hill Hollywood style. Tamas is no Clint Eastwood in Unforgiven, though I can detect an older, wiser Russell Crowe in Gladiator. Adamat is wisely more Watson than Holmes, but his dogged investigations prove to be a wonderful vehicle that McClellan uses to avoid heavy handed info-dumping. It's interesting that the most stereotypical character of the cast, Tamas' son, the legendary Taniel Two Shot, leaves me the coldest. McClellan packs his story line with interesting threads, the betrayal that ended his engagement, his strained relationship with his father, his growing attraction to the mute savage Ka-Poel, and his struggles with powder addiction and more. But try as I might, I always longed for more of the Tamas and Adamat viewpoints. Perhaps there was just too much going on in Taniel's chapters for any one element to really take hold. I'm not sure, but I hope that Taniel's chapters sharpen their focus in the sequel.
The only real miss I can find in McClellan's choices thus far has been in the almost complete lack of female voices in the novel. There is one small female focused point of view in the novel, that of Nila, a laundress who has lost everything as a result of Tamas' coup in the early chapters. I felt that Nila's chapters were under used and developed in comparison to the male centered counterparts. I suspect that could be a result of fear of getting it wrong, a criticism often leveled at epic fantasy writers in the post GRRM era. But I think McClellan would do well to face that fear head on. After all, he's placed several compelling female characters with definite agency in the background. Here's hoping we see some of them at the forefront with the boys in McClellan's sequel, The Crimson Campaign.
The action is well handled, with McClellan turning in the same kind of bullet time worthy fight scenes that you would expect from a Brett, Weeks, or Sanderson. I think a little more grit would do the writing some good, anchoring it more in the smoke and bloody faces of revolution, if you will. But that's nothing more than a matter of preference. The pacing falters later in the novel, losing the tension between the increasing action of some threads against the more sedentary pace of others. Something I have no doubt will improve as McClellan gains his own balance as an up and coming writer to watch.
McClellan's reputation as a fantasist to watch is well deserved. Promise of Blood has a lot going for it. Easy on the eyes, great personality, and can cut a rug with the best of them. I'm not convinced she's quite ready to take home to meet the parents, but I'll definitely be asking for a second and probably a third date. You never know she might just be a keeper.
Monday, March 4, 2013
Review of the Week: Scourge of the Betrayer by Jeff Salyards
Jeff Salyards' debut novel Scourge of the Betrayer has drawn a lot of comparison to Glen Cook's Black Company novels. His brooding and unflinching tale of a feared group of mercenaries is reminiscent of genre standouts such as Joe Abercrombie and Mark Lawrence. In less than half the size of most fantasy novels, Salyards delivers a story that is packed with bloody action, political intrigue, gallows humor, and truly compelling characters while showing only the tip of the iceberg in the opening volume of the series. Readers who enjoy their heroes dark and the stakes dire should definitely add Salyards to their must read list.
Here's the blurb from book jacket:
Arki, while naive, is profoundly observant. Through this lens Salyards delivers a complex and compelling account of the small brutalities and abrasive personalities of the Syldoon, while simultaneously capturing the deep bonds of friendship and loyalty between these hard men and women. While the leader of the Syldoon, Braylar Killcoin, gets the most screen time, all of the supporting cast are fleshed out so well that they easily slip the bonds of the page, elbowing and jostling their way into the reader's thoughts long after the novel is finished.
Arki's budding friendship with the outcast Grass Dog Lloi is particularly well handled. As the only woman in the company, the Grass Dog is almost as much of an outsider as Arki himself. She is still a hard woman, but serves as a somewhat softer counter balance to the harsh and critical Killcoin. Also of note are Killcoin's lieutenants, Hewspear and Muldoos. Although they are placed further in the background than Killcoin and Lloi, their bickering and bravado serves to hide the deep sense of loyalty and respect they have for one another and the rest of the company. It is through the smaller moments and often using his supporting cast that Salyards reveals the layered truth of this band of mercenaries. They may be violent, vulgar and brash, but they are good men that can be counted on to stand by their own.
For most readers, Braylar Killcoin will be the star of the novel. The Slydoon Captain is a man of many moods, so mercurial that I was left wondering if he suffers from bi-polar disorder in addition to the haunting effects of his cursed flail, Bloodsounder. Killcoin is at turns cruel and kind, understanding and quick to anger at the smallest slight. Salyards' dialogue shines when Killcoin speaks and the reader never knows which aspect of the Captain's fractured personality will appear. We learn about Killcoin in fits and starts and even by the end of the novel he is far from a solved puzzle. There is a sense that we have only seen a glimpse of the depths of the tortured Captain.
Much the same could be said about Salyards' approach to worldbuilding. The novel seems far more a character study than most books in the genre, and as a result, there is precious little info-dumping in Scourge of the Betrayer. It would almost be fair to say that there is little worldbuilding at all. Salyards' doles out information on the setting sparingly, only hinting at bigger mysteries to be revealed later. I'm definitely looking forward to learning more about Bloodsounder and its curse, the inner workings of the Syldoon, the Godsveil, and more. If Salyards picks up the pace in that department, I think Bloodsounder's Arc will find even more fans.
The pace is quick even in quieter moments, and Salyards manages to pack quite a lot of story into a very small space with the novel clocking in at just over 300 pages. That pace is used to great effect in the battle scenes that permeate the story. With the inept Arki as the sole viewpoint, we get a very different perspective on violence and Salyards wisely shows both Arki's fear and revulsion at the very realistic depictions of the carnage and brutality that are common place in the world of the Syldoon. The prose is equally dark and brooding, easily accenting both the themes of the novel and the characters that populate it.
All in all, Scourge of the Betrayer is a tale of startling violence told through one of the most unique protagonists I've seen in recent memory. Salyards draws a world full of dark atmosphere, complex and richly drawn characters, and more mystery than James Patterson's back catalog, Those searching for something to fill the space between the works of Abercrombie and Lawrence
should look no further than this excellent start to a promising series.
Here's the blurb from book jacket:
Many tales are told of the Syldoon Empire and its fearsome soldiers, who are known throughout the world for their treachery and atrocities. Some say that the Syldoon eat virgins and babies-or perhaps their own mothers. Arkamondos, a bookish young scribe, suspects that the Syldoon's dire reputation may have grown in the retelling, but he's about to find out for himself. Hired to chronicle the exploits of a band of rugged Syldoon warriors, Arki finds himself both frightened and fascinated by the men's enigmatic leader, Captain Braylar Killcoin. A secretive, mercurial figure haunted by the memories of those he's killed with his deadly flail, Braylar has already disposed of at least one impertinent scribe . . . and Arki might be next. Archiving the mundane doings of millers and merchants was tedious, but at least it was safe. As Arki heads off on a mysterious mission into parts unknown, in the company of the coarse, bloody-minded Syldoon, he is promised a chance to finally record an historic adventure well worth the telling, but first he must survive the experience! A gripping military fantasy in the tradition of Glen Cook, Scourge of the Betrayer explores the brutal politics of Empire-and the searing impact of violence and dark magic on a man's soul.Salyards sets himself apart from the very beginning. His protagonist, the scribe, Arkamandos, while similar to the protagonist of Cook's Black Company novels, is far too naive and wet behind the ears to rate anything more than the most cursory of comparisons. Arki is a fish out of water, thrust into the company of Syldoon mercenaries whose bloody reputation seems all too well deserved. This choice only serves to spotlight the differences between the Syldoon and the young chronicler, who is far more like most genre readers than the typical viewpoint character. This similarity, while possibly off-putting for those who like their protagonists larger than life, adds a level of deeper connection to the protagonist that is often lacking in genre novels. Adding depth is the fact that Arki is, for all intents and purposes, an orphan, and it seems that with his joining the Syldoon he may have found a family at last, if only he can survive the experience.
Arki, while naive, is profoundly observant. Through this lens Salyards delivers a complex and compelling account of the small brutalities and abrasive personalities of the Syldoon, while simultaneously capturing the deep bonds of friendship and loyalty between these hard men and women. While the leader of the Syldoon, Braylar Killcoin, gets the most screen time, all of the supporting cast are fleshed out so well that they easily slip the bonds of the page, elbowing and jostling their way into the reader's thoughts long after the novel is finished.
Arki's budding friendship with the outcast Grass Dog Lloi is particularly well handled. As the only woman in the company, the Grass Dog is almost as much of an outsider as Arki himself. She is still a hard woman, but serves as a somewhat softer counter balance to the harsh and critical Killcoin. Also of note are Killcoin's lieutenants, Hewspear and Muldoos. Although they are placed further in the background than Killcoin and Lloi, their bickering and bravado serves to hide the deep sense of loyalty and respect they have for one another and the rest of the company. It is through the smaller moments and often using his supporting cast that Salyards reveals the layered truth of this band of mercenaries. They may be violent, vulgar and brash, but they are good men that can be counted on to stand by their own.
For most readers, Braylar Killcoin will be the star of the novel. The Slydoon Captain is a man of many moods, so mercurial that I was left wondering if he suffers from bi-polar disorder in addition to the haunting effects of his cursed flail, Bloodsounder. Killcoin is at turns cruel and kind, understanding and quick to anger at the smallest slight. Salyards' dialogue shines when Killcoin speaks and the reader never knows which aspect of the Captain's fractured personality will appear. We learn about Killcoin in fits and starts and even by the end of the novel he is far from a solved puzzle. There is a sense that we have only seen a glimpse of the depths of the tortured Captain.
Much the same could be said about Salyards' approach to worldbuilding. The novel seems far more a character study than most books in the genre, and as a result, there is precious little info-dumping in Scourge of the Betrayer. It would almost be fair to say that there is little worldbuilding at all. Salyards' doles out information on the setting sparingly, only hinting at bigger mysteries to be revealed later. I'm definitely looking forward to learning more about Bloodsounder and its curse, the inner workings of the Syldoon, the Godsveil, and more. If Salyards picks up the pace in that department, I think Bloodsounder's Arc will find even more fans.
The pace is quick even in quieter moments, and Salyards manages to pack quite a lot of story into a very small space with the novel clocking in at just over 300 pages. That pace is used to great effect in the battle scenes that permeate the story. With the inept Arki as the sole viewpoint, we get a very different perspective on violence and Salyards wisely shows both Arki's fear and revulsion at the very realistic depictions of the carnage and brutality that are common place in the world of the Syldoon. The prose is equally dark and brooding, easily accenting both the themes of the novel and the characters that populate it.
All in all, Scourge of the Betrayer is a tale of startling violence told through one of the most unique protagonists I've seen in recent memory. Salyards draws a world full of dark atmosphere, complex and richly drawn characters, and more mystery than James Patterson's back catalog, Those searching for something to fill the space between the works of Abercrombie and Lawrence
should look no further than this excellent start to a promising series.
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Review of the Week: Spellwright by Blake Charlton
Blake Charlton has a rather unusual pedigree. From the author profile of his debut novel, Spellwright, we learn that he has served as an English teacher, a technical writer, a learning disabilities tutor, football coach and is a medical student at a prestigious university. Needless to say this is a group of somewhat disparate career choices, especially when considered under the light of his severe dyslexia. But, as with most writers, his varied life experiences have served him well in his latest career as a novelist.
Spellwright is the story of Nicodemus Weal, a young spellwright who was once thought to be a prophesied hero that would protect humanity against the return of an ancient and evil god. Spellwriting uses magical texts written by the caster in his own flesh to accomplish a variety of spell-like effects. Spellwrights can also create constructs akin to golems and gargoyles with the same magical scripts. Complicating Nicodemus' use of his magical talent is his cacography, a form of magical dyslexia that causes him "to misspell" not only the texts he creates, but any text he comes into contacts with, often to disastrous result. Nicodemus seems destined to remain an apprentice at the magical university at Starhaven for the rest of his life, or have his magic censored from his mind. His mentor, the blind Master Shannon, has other ideas believing that Nicodemus can overcome his disability. But when one of Shannon's rivals is killed and his mentor is investigated for the murder, Nicodemus finds himself at the center of a mystery with ties to prophesy, political intrigue, and the machinations of gods and demons alike.
The hero of prophecy is definitely a familiar theme, especially to anyone who grew up reading the fantasy of the late eighties and nineties. While there is a resurgence of these themes in the works of authors such as Peter V. Brett, Michael J. Sullivan and Brandon Sanderson, Spellwright feels less like these more contemporary works and more like those of Eddings, Feist, and Tad Williams, largely due to very clear lines drawn between the heroes and their enemies. Those looking for a story populated by the morally gray characters found in George R.R. Martin or Joe Abercrombie's work should look elsewhere. Which is not to say that Charlton's characters are two dimensional because they are not, they are simply good or evil.
One of the best things that Charlton does to differentiate Nicodemus from the glut of prophesied saviors so common in the genre is to make the use of his considerable magical gifts complicated by his cacography. The real heart of this story is about Nicodemus' coming to grips with and in some cases using his disability to his own advantage. Charlton's own personal experience with dyslexia give Nicodemus' struggles the weight of authenticity and make for a story significantly removed from the boy heroes of the novel's ancestors. Nicodemus wants to be free of his cacography and is willing to take foolish risks to do so, even though in his heart he knows that cacography is an important part of who he is. Nicodemus' journey to find his own identity and place in the world is more than engrossing enough to keep the reader turning pages, but Charlton also involves the character in an age old conflict with powerful demonic forces which provides for the action and intrigue elements necessary to move the plot forward.
Fans of detailed magical systems that have a real impact on the world around them, like those of Brett and Sanderson, will find much to like in Spellwright. However, Charlton's system of spellwriting is far less intuitive and seems almost mathematically complex which requires a great deal of explanation early on in the novel. The weight of that exposition slows down the pace of the beginning of the novel and may take more than a little time to wrap your head around the concepts, but once that is accomplished, the pace improves dramatically. Spellwriting is very flexible and Charlton uses it in some very inventive and cinematic ways that allow for some excellent action sequences in the latter half of the novel. With the necessary explanation out of the way, I am confident that Charlton's subsequent novels will have a more fluid and organic pace.
While Spellwright definitely has many of the earmarks of epic fantasy, the opening volume only hints at the grander scale of the genre. The cast of characters is small, the setting of Starhaven fairly closed, and the conflicts are fairly immediate and localized, but there are definite hints that the scope of the series will expand in the next volume. Charlton does an excellent job of hinting at the greater conflicts and the true scope of the world without taking long detours into things that only tangentially affect the main plot. As the story moves from the confines of Starhaven in the last third of the novel, the story gains speed and a sense of scope that is far from obvious from the rather confined beginnings.
While there is a definite feeling of the author getting his balance, Spellwright has plenty to recommend itself. Its inventive magic system, truly likeable protagonist, and Charlton's willingness to breathe new life into old tropes should please all but the most jaded of fantasy readers. If you long for a return to the fantasy of your youth and want a hero you can pull for with zero reservations then you should definitely spend some time with Nicodemus Weal.
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
Coming Attractions: The Tyrant's Law by Daniel Abraham
And here's the blurb:
The great war cannot be stopped.
The tyrant Geder Palliako begins a conquest aimed at bringing peace to the world, though his resources are stretched too thin. When things go poorly, he finds a convenient target among the thirteen races and sparks a genocide.
Clara Kalliam, freed by having fallen from grace, remakes herself as a "loyal traitor" and starts building an underground resistance movement that seeks to undermine Geder through those closest to him.
Cithrin bel Sarcour is apprenticing in a city that's taken over by Antea, and uses her status as Geder's one-time lover to cover up an underground railroad smuggling refugees to safety.
And Marcus Wester and Master Kit race against time and Geder Palliako's soldiers in an attempt to awaken a force that could change the fate of the world.
I haven't read The King's Blood yet, but this blurb is going to have me waiting at the mailbox for its arrival. It looks like 2013 might be Daniel Abraham's best year yet.
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
Review of the Week: The Blinding Knife by Brent Weeks
Obviously, I read a lot. I'm at fifty two books so far this year. And this year hasn't been a year with a string of mediocre fiction. 2012 has been the year of Ready Player One, Control Point, The Night Circus, Wool and World War Z. I'll just come out and say it, The Blinding Knife is the best book I've read this year.
I've not been bashful about my love for Brent Weeks' books. My original intention was to write a You Should Be Reading post about him before reviewing The Blinding Knife. But this book was too good to wait even a week to review. Justin over at the excellent Staffer's Musings has this to say:
"I've read all five of Brent Weeks' published novels and it's a certainty that he's evolving with every book. With The Blinding Knife, I believe he's entered a new stratosphere and one that puts him on par with anyone who's written these kinds of stories. It isn't only the best book he's written; I consider it one of the best epic fantasies I've read."
I couldn't agree more. Like Justin, I've read all of Weeks' fiction, and it's all been excellent. The Night Angel trilogy was excellent and is often a feeder series I recommend to friends unfamiliar with the genre. The Black Prism, which starts the Lightbringer series that The Blinding Knife continues, has one of the best plot twists that I can recall in any book I've read. I often compare that reveal to the end of The Sixth Sense when describing the book to friends. So yeah, I'm a fan. But I felt like Weeks' was either holding back or getting ready for something even better, and boy was I right. The Blinding Knife is a masterwork of a novel (I know at least eighty percent of you get the reference) full of exquisitely drawn and believable characters, a surprisingly intricate magical system, break-neck pacing and more "no he didn't" moments than Rush Limbaugh's entire career.
Since The Blinding Knife is the second installment in a series, I'll start with some background information. The Lightbringer series is set in the Seven Satrapies loosely reminiscent of the Mediterranean. The Satrapies are ruled by two part government consisting of the more secular Prism and the White, a religious leader not unlike the Pope. The Black Prism spends a lot of time explaining the intricacies and history of the setting as well as explaining the magical system of drafting different colors of light into varying types of matter. Drafting impacts society on almost every level. Architecture, religion, and education are all effected and Weeks lays the groundwork well, even if it is understandably a bit long winded at points. With all of the groundwork established, The Blinding Knife jumps right in assuming the readers are more than familiar with the premise and all of its considerable detail. Even though I didn't remember every nuance of the magic system or setting, Weeks layers reminders though out the plot in a fashion that never felt forced and in no time at all, the mechanical bits faded into the background allowing me to fully engage in the gripping tale of Weeks' cast of characters.
Weeks' created a truly extraordinary magical system. With drafters able to create virtually anything through drafting the portion of the spectrum that they can control, Weeks' would seem to be in danger of falling into Green Lantern territory. But he sidesteps any but the most superficial comparison because of the depth of detail built into the magic system. The material created through drafting, called luxin, has physical properties that change depending on its color. Adding even more depth is the psychological implications of drafting, each color exerts a different influence on the drafter. Some make the user more impulsive and others more emotionally detached. Weeks uses all of these details to good effect through the course of the novel, giving drafters unwanted side effects to using their magic. I love this system of magic, finding it on par with the creations of other industry heavyweights such as Brandon Sanderson and the late Robert Jordan.
As deft as Weeks' magic system and setting are, what sets The Blinding Knife apart from the many excellent novels I've read this year is Weeks' gift for characterization. Weeks continues with the adventures of the cast from The Black Prism; Gavin, Kip, Karris, and Liv adding a handful of other characters along the way. His handling of Kip and Liv impressed me the most, as both adolescents struggle to find where their true identity separates from the people their station and circumstances dictate that they should be. Their voyages couldn't be more dissimilar by the end of the novel, but the common thread of facing the consequences of their own mistakes binds them together to form the heart of the book for me. Weeks embodies them both with the foolishness and vulnerability of youth in a way that makes the reader cringe when they choose poorly against all sense, and cheer when they triumph not only against those who would attempt to control them. The other characters, including the secondary ones are equally conflicted while faced with their own moral and ethical dilemmas. This is a novel about choices, and Weeks' characters don't hesitate to make mistakes and the price is often dearer coin that they ever expected.
Weeks does wonders with the antagonists in The Blinding Knife, particularly with Gavin's father Andross Guile, member of the Spectrum who rules the Seven Satrapies under the guidance of the White and the Prism. Every scene that Andross appears in positively drips with menace even though their is little to no threat of actual violence. Andross is a puller of strings, a master of working from the shadows and much like our characters I started to see his skeletal hand everywhere. I found myself looking forward to his meetings with the other members of the Guile family more than any scene with the more obvious threat of the Color Prince who was moving to invade the Seven Satrapies at the head of a nearly unstoppable army of drafters. If you love to hate Lord Littlefinger in George R. R.Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire, you should do yourself a favor and get to know Andross Guile right away.
Another standout aspect of The Blinding Knife is the pacing. This book reads more like a James Patterson thriller (one of the good ones, anyway) than Frodo's adventures in Middle Earth. There are over a hundred chapters in six hundred and twenty-five pages. Readers will have a hard time putting this book down to sleep, work, or spend time with their families. The plot is intricate with plenty of twists and turns and Weeks surprised me over and over again to the point that I was almost weary with the shock. Amazingly enough, even with the exhausting pace and metric ton of twists I never saw coming, I could have easily have read for another hundred chapters. To tell it true, I would have read this book until my eyes bled and called it a joy.
I think that in a few years readers will look back at The Blinding Knife as the point where Brent Weeks went from being an up-and-comer to an author whose name belongs next to stalwarts of the genre like Martin, Jordan, and Brooks. Run, don't walk and get this book. You won't regret it.
I've not been bashful about my love for Brent Weeks' books. My original intention was to write a You Should Be Reading post about him before reviewing The Blinding Knife. But this book was too good to wait even a week to review. Justin over at the excellent Staffer's Musings has this to say:
"I've read all five of Brent Weeks' published novels and it's a certainty that he's evolving with every book. With The Blinding Knife, I believe he's entered a new stratosphere and one that puts him on par with anyone who's written these kinds of stories. It isn't only the best book he's written; I consider it one of the best epic fantasies I've read."
I couldn't agree more. Like Justin, I've read all of Weeks' fiction, and it's all been excellent. The Night Angel trilogy was excellent and is often a feeder series I recommend to friends unfamiliar with the genre. The Black Prism, which starts the Lightbringer series that The Blinding Knife continues, has one of the best plot twists that I can recall in any book I've read. I often compare that reveal to the end of The Sixth Sense when describing the book to friends. So yeah, I'm a fan. But I felt like Weeks' was either holding back or getting ready for something even better, and boy was I right. The Blinding Knife is a masterwork of a novel (I know at least eighty percent of you get the reference) full of exquisitely drawn and believable characters, a surprisingly intricate magical system, break-neck pacing and more "no he didn't" moments than Rush Limbaugh's entire career.
Since The Blinding Knife is the second installment in a series, I'll start with some background information. The Lightbringer series is set in the Seven Satrapies loosely reminiscent of the Mediterranean. The Satrapies are ruled by two part government consisting of the more secular Prism and the White, a religious leader not unlike the Pope. The Black Prism spends a lot of time explaining the intricacies and history of the setting as well as explaining the magical system of drafting different colors of light into varying types of matter. Drafting impacts society on almost every level. Architecture, religion, and education are all effected and Weeks lays the groundwork well, even if it is understandably a bit long winded at points. With all of the groundwork established, The Blinding Knife jumps right in assuming the readers are more than familiar with the premise and all of its considerable detail. Even though I didn't remember every nuance of the magic system or setting, Weeks layers reminders though out the plot in a fashion that never felt forced and in no time at all, the mechanical bits faded into the background allowing me to fully engage in the gripping tale of Weeks' cast of characters.
Weeks' created a truly extraordinary magical system. With drafters able to create virtually anything through drafting the portion of the spectrum that they can control, Weeks' would seem to be in danger of falling into Green Lantern territory. But he sidesteps any but the most superficial comparison because of the depth of detail built into the magic system. The material created through drafting, called luxin, has physical properties that change depending on its color. Adding even more depth is the psychological implications of drafting, each color exerts a different influence on the drafter. Some make the user more impulsive and others more emotionally detached. Weeks uses all of these details to good effect through the course of the novel, giving drafters unwanted side effects to using their magic. I love this system of magic, finding it on par with the creations of other industry heavyweights such as Brandon Sanderson and the late Robert Jordan.
As deft as Weeks' magic system and setting are, what sets The Blinding Knife apart from the many excellent novels I've read this year is Weeks' gift for characterization. Weeks continues with the adventures of the cast from The Black Prism; Gavin, Kip, Karris, and Liv adding a handful of other characters along the way. His handling of Kip and Liv impressed me the most, as both adolescents struggle to find where their true identity separates from the people their station and circumstances dictate that they should be. Their voyages couldn't be more dissimilar by the end of the novel, but the common thread of facing the consequences of their own mistakes binds them together to form the heart of the book for me. Weeks embodies them both with the foolishness and vulnerability of youth in a way that makes the reader cringe when they choose poorly against all sense, and cheer when they triumph not only against those who would attempt to control them. The other characters, including the secondary ones are equally conflicted while faced with their own moral and ethical dilemmas. This is a novel about choices, and Weeks' characters don't hesitate to make mistakes and the price is often dearer coin that they ever expected.
Weeks does wonders with the antagonists in The Blinding Knife, particularly with Gavin's father Andross Guile, member of the Spectrum who rules the Seven Satrapies under the guidance of the White and the Prism. Every scene that Andross appears in positively drips with menace even though their is little to no threat of actual violence. Andross is a puller of strings, a master of working from the shadows and much like our characters I started to see his skeletal hand everywhere. I found myself looking forward to his meetings with the other members of the Guile family more than any scene with the more obvious threat of the Color Prince who was moving to invade the Seven Satrapies at the head of a nearly unstoppable army of drafters. If you love to hate Lord Littlefinger in George R. R.Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire, you should do yourself a favor and get to know Andross Guile right away.
Another standout aspect of The Blinding Knife is the pacing. This book reads more like a James Patterson thriller (one of the good ones, anyway) than Frodo's adventures in Middle Earth. There are over a hundred chapters in six hundred and twenty-five pages. Readers will have a hard time putting this book down to sleep, work, or spend time with their families. The plot is intricate with plenty of twists and turns and Weeks surprised me over and over again to the point that I was almost weary with the shock. Amazingly enough, even with the exhausting pace and metric ton of twists I never saw coming, I could have easily have read for another hundred chapters. To tell it true, I would have read this book until my eyes bled and called it a joy.
I think that in a few years readers will look back at The Blinding Knife as the point where Brent Weeks went from being an up-and-comer to an author whose name belongs next to stalwarts of the genre like Martin, Jordan, and Brooks. Run, don't walk and get this book. You won't regret it.
Thursday, September 6, 2012
Review of the Week: The King's Bastard by Rowena Cory Daniels
I'll admit that I bought The King's Bastard based on nothing more than the title. Insane, right? The cover did absolutely nothing for me. The shadowy color scheme and vaguely ominous backdrop took away from what could have been an intriguing figure I assumed was the protagonist. The back copy wasn't much better, leaving me wondering whether it was wise for the author to choose a concept that seemingly falls so close to the shadow cast by one of the giants of the genre. But the title is so close to an unfinished manuscript I spent some months on, that I had to check it out just for my own curiosity's sake.
The King's Bastard focuses on the family of King Rolen, whose reign over Rolencia is supported largely through his alliance with the warlords of the borderlands that stand between his kingdom and the rival nation of Merofynia, with whom he's kept an uneasy peace. Unlike in Merofynia, magic use is restricted in Rolencia. All who possess Affinity are pressed into mandatory service in one of two religious orders or be executed. But untamed magic is loose in the land, causing more and more mystical creatures to surface threatening the peaceful and largely orderly kingdom. We meet our protagonist, Byren Kingson, who's lack of real political responsibility as the second born son of his family makes him a natural fit for hunting the Affinity touched creatures. Hi-jinks ensue and Byren meets a rouge sorceress who foretells that he will eventually shed the blood of his brother, Lence, and thus become heir to the throne. With no interest in ruling Rolencia and a deep bond with his older twin, Byren dismisses the prophesy but fate and the heir's increasingly hostile and erratic behavior seem to be propelling Byren towards his prophesied fate.
Also taking center stage are Byren's younger siblings; Fyn and Piro. Fyn is Affinity touched and has been a novice at the abbey of one of the two gods of Rolencian religion. Halycon is the god of summer and his acolytes serve the crown, most notably as a militant order and in the production of food that will protect the nation's population during the harsh winter months. Fyn, now on the brink of choosing his path within the ranks of the monastic brothers, discovers that the political maneuverings and subsequent dangers of life at the Abbey are not so different than those that plague the more noble members of his family. The youngest member of the family, Piro is nearing an age where she will be expected to marry to strengthen the peace her father has managed to craft through three decades of compromise and swift retribution to those that would threaten Rolencia, but she has been hiding her own Affinity and that secret won't stay hidden for long.
With its surface similarities to George R. R. Martin's Song of Ice and Fire, I really wanted to enjoy this first installment of Daniels' trilogy. The trio of young protagonists remind me of the children of House Stark, some of my favorites in the genre. But shaky execution and a lack of depth kept this story from really taking root and even less than a week after reading it, I find myself having a hard time remembering the things that I enjoyed, while its flaws are all too apparent.
I'll start with the characters. Daniels' manages to create a trio of characters that seem at first glance to be incredibly capable and intriguing, but upon further inspection seem to have little to no agency and are simply locked into a course of events that their station or stated character traits dictate. Despite growing evidence that that the future king is hot headed, self-important, and power mad, our principle protagonist, Byren, is dedicated to doing the right thing even if it means living in his brother's shadow. His love for his family and friends is important to him even when it stands to cost him dearly. While loyalty is to be lauded, Byren often takes it beyond all reason. Byren chooses to believe in Lence even when it is obvious that he has ill intentions not only towards Byren but to those he holds most dear. He runs all over the kingdom, cleaning up after his siblings and generally is forever reacting to the actions of others.
That by itself would be forgivable, but neither Fyn or Piro are any different. Fyn is forever being threatened, bullied, or framed and his only solution, despite being well liked and a capable warrior besides, is to plan to run away. Piro's case seems a little easier to take because of her gender and younger age, but her sole purpose in the plot seems to be to sow chaos wherever she goes, and she never seems to pay the price for it. Daniels' seems to think her thoughtless behavior and impulsiveness can be explained away, simply by pointing out that she in on the cusp of marriage every time she does something juvenile and foolish.
Most of the secondary characters suffer from a lack of development and come off rather flat. My main complaint is that Byren's love interest, Orrade's sister Elina, has virtually no redeeming qualities and is so under developed that when her fate takes a shocking turn, I couldn't bring myself to care. Byren's reactions seemed less authentic because I felt I was being told how much she meant to him without ever being shown a compelling reason why. Other characters seem one or two note caricatures at best, even cast members as important as King Rolen and Byren's brother, Lence.
There are a few other inconsistencies that bother me about Daniels' writing. The first is that despite telling us time and time again that Affinity beasts are rare, Byren seems to encounter one every time he ventures outside of civilization. If they are rare, then by all means, let them be rare. They begin to feel like random monster encounters from a D&D game when used this frequently. More bothersome is Daniels' handling of the homosexuality of Byren's best friend, Orrade. Orrade is in love with Byren, and has taken to wearing a symbol of a traitorous warrior society that has a reputation of being composed of homosexuals. His identification with the notorious cult causes both he and Byren no end of heartache. Nothing wrong with any of this, after all ancient Greece is full of this sort of thing. The problem comes with the tendency for every person to focus on the "lover of men" label as being synonymous with being a traitor to the crown. Almost every character in the novel reacts this way, regardless of their relationship to Orrade. If Daniels really wants to explore homophobia, why not drop the attachment to this traitorous organization entirely and deal with it head on. The obfuscation doesn't help and feels like cheating to me.
There was a lot of promising world building that never seemed to bear fruit, and the secondary plot line at the Abbey was full of potential, but the flatness and lack of agency in the characters make it doubtful that I will return to the characters of The King's Bastard. Which is a shame, because I wanted to like these characters and the world they inhabited. I had hoped Rolencia would be a welcome vacation home from Westeros, but sadly it's not.
The King's Bastard focuses on the family of King Rolen, whose reign over Rolencia is supported largely through his alliance with the warlords of the borderlands that stand between his kingdom and the rival nation of Merofynia, with whom he's kept an uneasy peace. Unlike in Merofynia, magic use is restricted in Rolencia. All who possess Affinity are pressed into mandatory service in one of two religious orders or be executed. But untamed magic is loose in the land, causing more and more mystical creatures to surface threatening the peaceful and largely orderly kingdom. We meet our protagonist, Byren Kingson, who's lack of real political responsibility as the second born son of his family makes him a natural fit for hunting the Affinity touched creatures. Hi-jinks ensue and Byren meets a rouge sorceress who foretells that he will eventually shed the blood of his brother, Lence, and thus become heir to the throne. With no interest in ruling Rolencia and a deep bond with his older twin, Byren dismisses the prophesy but fate and the heir's increasingly hostile and erratic behavior seem to be propelling Byren towards his prophesied fate.
Also taking center stage are Byren's younger siblings; Fyn and Piro. Fyn is Affinity touched and has been a novice at the abbey of one of the two gods of Rolencian religion. Halycon is the god of summer and his acolytes serve the crown, most notably as a militant order and in the production of food that will protect the nation's population during the harsh winter months. Fyn, now on the brink of choosing his path within the ranks of the monastic brothers, discovers that the political maneuverings and subsequent dangers of life at the Abbey are not so different than those that plague the more noble members of his family. The youngest member of the family, Piro is nearing an age where she will be expected to marry to strengthen the peace her father has managed to craft through three decades of compromise and swift retribution to those that would threaten Rolencia, but she has been hiding her own Affinity and that secret won't stay hidden for long.
With its surface similarities to George R. R. Martin's Song of Ice and Fire, I really wanted to enjoy this first installment of Daniels' trilogy. The trio of young protagonists remind me of the children of House Stark, some of my favorites in the genre. But shaky execution and a lack of depth kept this story from really taking root and even less than a week after reading it, I find myself having a hard time remembering the things that I enjoyed, while its flaws are all too apparent.
I'll start with the characters. Daniels' manages to create a trio of characters that seem at first glance to be incredibly capable and intriguing, but upon further inspection seem to have little to no agency and are simply locked into a course of events that their station or stated character traits dictate. Despite growing evidence that that the future king is hot headed, self-important, and power mad, our principle protagonist, Byren, is dedicated to doing the right thing even if it means living in his brother's shadow. His love for his family and friends is important to him even when it stands to cost him dearly. While loyalty is to be lauded, Byren often takes it beyond all reason. Byren chooses to believe in Lence even when it is obvious that he has ill intentions not only towards Byren but to those he holds most dear. He runs all over the kingdom, cleaning up after his siblings and generally is forever reacting to the actions of others.
That by itself would be forgivable, but neither Fyn or Piro are any different. Fyn is forever being threatened, bullied, or framed and his only solution, despite being well liked and a capable warrior besides, is to plan to run away. Piro's case seems a little easier to take because of her gender and younger age, but her sole purpose in the plot seems to be to sow chaos wherever she goes, and she never seems to pay the price for it. Daniels' seems to think her thoughtless behavior and impulsiveness can be explained away, simply by pointing out that she in on the cusp of marriage every time she does something juvenile and foolish.
Most of the secondary characters suffer from a lack of development and come off rather flat. My main complaint is that Byren's love interest, Orrade's sister Elina, has virtually no redeeming qualities and is so under developed that when her fate takes a shocking turn, I couldn't bring myself to care. Byren's reactions seemed less authentic because I felt I was being told how much she meant to him without ever being shown a compelling reason why. Other characters seem one or two note caricatures at best, even cast members as important as King Rolen and Byren's brother, Lence.
There are a few other inconsistencies that bother me about Daniels' writing. The first is that despite telling us time and time again that Affinity beasts are rare, Byren seems to encounter one every time he ventures outside of civilization. If they are rare, then by all means, let them be rare. They begin to feel like random monster encounters from a D&D game when used this frequently. More bothersome is Daniels' handling of the homosexuality of Byren's best friend, Orrade. Orrade is in love with Byren, and has taken to wearing a symbol of a traitorous warrior society that has a reputation of being composed of homosexuals. His identification with the notorious cult causes both he and Byren no end of heartache. Nothing wrong with any of this, after all ancient Greece is full of this sort of thing. The problem comes with the tendency for every person to focus on the "lover of men" label as being synonymous with being a traitor to the crown. Almost every character in the novel reacts this way, regardless of their relationship to Orrade. If Daniels really wants to explore homophobia, why not drop the attachment to this traitorous organization entirely and deal with it head on. The obfuscation doesn't help and feels like cheating to me.
There was a lot of promising world building that never seemed to bear fruit, and the secondary plot line at the Abbey was full of potential, but the flatness and lack of agency in the characters make it doubtful that I will return to the characters of The King's Bastard. Which is a shame, because I wanted to like these characters and the world they inhabited. I had hoped Rolencia would be a welcome vacation home from Westeros, but sadly it's not.
Monday, September 3, 2012
Coming Attractions: Red Country by Joe Abercrombie
I both love and fear Joe Abercrombie. Abercrombie's fiction is populated by morally repugnant and chaotically violent characters who nevertheless manage to be relatable in a way that makes me question my own moral fiber. So with trepidation and longing, I bring you an excerpt from Abercrombie's upcoming novel Red Country. Give it a read, and if you live under a rock and have yet to be converted to the ever growing cult of Joe's fans, I'm sure this small yet bloody morsel will send you to your local bookseller to grab a copy of The Blade Itself. Click on the link below the image to be sent hurtling through the interwebs to the excerpt. Enjoy.
Friday, August 17, 2012
Review of the Week: The Dragon's Path by Daniel Abraham
I want to love Daniel Abraham's books. Really, I do. I discovered Abraham through his good friend and genre legend, George R. R. Martin. Martin's sterling recommendation sent me directly to the book store to pick up the first book in The Long Price Quartet and immediately dove into its pages. Abraham's epic fantasy debut was intriguing with a world unlike anything I'd read in the genre, and with nary a trope in sight, full of unique characters and a deeply personal story arc. It was like an exotic dish from a culture I knew absolutely nothing about; I savored and enjoyed every bite. I read the rest of the series as they were released. While I enjoyed them just as much I realized that Abraham's novels, like exotic food, would never replace my love for an old fashioned cheeseburger. I like these novels, but I wanted to love them. So when Abraham's next novel, The Dragon's Path debuted I was excited. Maybe I'd love this one.
The Dragon's Path is definitely a departure from The Long Price Quartet, introducing readers to a world that is infinitely more recognizable. Tropes of the genre are very obviously present this time around. Abraham has filled this world with dragons, strange new races, political upheaval, ancient tomes that promise to reveal mysterious secrets, and even some swordplay. The magic is minimal, at least thus far, which could be the influence of Abraham's good friend and eloquent pitchman, Martin. Abraham is setting the table for a familiar feast early on, and I found myself ready to settle down for a meal. However, Abraham's choice of utensils led to a little fumbling.
The characters of The Dragon's Path are a quartet of seemingly easily recognizable archetypes. A troubled, yet capable soldier, Marcus, is charged with guarding Cithrin, a young apprentice of the Madean bank, as she attempts to smuggle its treasures out of the Free City of Vanai before enemy troops can occupy the city. In addition, we are introduced to two noblemen who are embroiled in a political conflict that is poised to shake the halls of power throughout the realm. Dawson, the childhood friend of King Simeon, is a man of vast influence and power who stands at the head of a faction desperate to protect the rights of the privileged noble class against a growing cry for substantial political change. Geder is the awkard bookish minor lordling who finds he must take drastic measures to stay afloat in the shark infested waters of his birthright or be drowned under the weight of their machinations.
But rather than tell a comfortable if predictable story, Abraham delves into these characters with an eye for the intensely personal and through that unflinching lens we find that while all of these characters seem poised for heroics, none of them are entirely likable. Even the most likeable of the four, Marcus and Cithrin, display traits that make it difficult to see them in a wholly favorable light. When these stories are viewed as a study in character, Abraham shows a genius for uncovering what really motivates and impacts these characters. Even when they make foolish or questionable decisions readers can easily understand why. But without a standout character that readers want to cheer for the novel's lack of a true hero is keenly felt.
Another of Abraham's numerous strengths is his ability to make elements that might seem boring at first glance very compelling. The exploration of commerce and the inter-workings of banking are explored through Cithrin's character arc. Abraham does this with a deft hand that manages to fascinate with its depth of detail while always moving the plot along. The political maneuverings of Dawson and Geder get similar treatment though the political angle is not so unique and startling as the economical one. Sadly, Abraham's strengths plays a part in the novels weakness once again. The Dragon's Path, while always entertaining, lacks any real sense of action. That is not meant as a criticism for a lack of sword waving or epic battles, though both are glaringly absent. It's more pervasive than that. There are few places where the story has a real sense of momentum. I waited desperately for a tipping point where the narrative picks up speed and feels in danger of running away with our characters, but it never came.
With that said, it seems that The Dragon's Path is more about declaring the combatants and defining the field of battle than anything else, which in a projected quintet of novels is no small feat. I have every hope that the newly released The King's Blood will up the ante on the action, while still delving deep into what makes these so wonderfully drawn characters fit to be the heroes of this epic tale. And given the growth in Abraham's writing since The Long Price Quartet, I'm confident that I'll eventually find the story I'm meant to fall in love with. I'll definitely keep reading until I do.
The Dragon's Path is definitely a departure from The Long Price Quartet, introducing readers to a world that is infinitely more recognizable. Tropes of the genre are very obviously present this time around. Abraham has filled this world with dragons, strange new races, political upheaval, ancient tomes that promise to reveal mysterious secrets, and even some swordplay. The magic is minimal, at least thus far, which could be the influence of Abraham's good friend and eloquent pitchman, Martin. Abraham is setting the table for a familiar feast early on, and I found myself ready to settle down for a meal. However, Abraham's choice of utensils led to a little fumbling.
The characters of The Dragon's Path are a quartet of seemingly easily recognizable archetypes. A troubled, yet capable soldier, Marcus, is charged with guarding Cithrin, a young apprentice of the Madean bank, as she attempts to smuggle its treasures out of the Free City of Vanai before enemy troops can occupy the city. In addition, we are introduced to two noblemen who are embroiled in a political conflict that is poised to shake the halls of power throughout the realm. Dawson, the childhood friend of King Simeon, is a man of vast influence and power who stands at the head of a faction desperate to protect the rights of the privileged noble class against a growing cry for substantial political change. Geder is the awkard bookish minor lordling who finds he must take drastic measures to stay afloat in the shark infested waters of his birthright or be drowned under the weight of their machinations.
But rather than tell a comfortable if predictable story, Abraham delves into these characters with an eye for the intensely personal and through that unflinching lens we find that while all of these characters seem poised for heroics, none of them are entirely likable. Even the most likeable of the four, Marcus and Cithrin, display traits that make it difficult to see them in a wholly favorable light. When these stories are viewed as a study in character, Abraham shows a genius for uncovering what really motivates and impacts these characters. Even when they make foolish or questionable decisions readers can easily understand why. But without a standout character that readers want to cheer for the novel's lack of a true hero is keenly felt.
Another of Abraham's numerous strengths is his ability to make elements that might seem boring at first glance very compelling. The exploration of commerce and the inter-workings of banking are explored through Cithrin's character arc. Abraham does this with a deft hand that manages to fascinate with its depth of detail while always moving the plot along. The political maneuverings of Dawson and Geder get similar treatment though the political angle is not so unique and startling as the economical one. Sadly, Abraham's strengths plays a part in the novels weakness once again. The Dragon's Path, while always entertaining, lacks any real sense of action. That is not meant as a criticism for a lack of sword waving or epic battles, though both are glaringly absent. It's more pervasive than that. There are few places where the story has a real sense of momentum. I waited desperately for a tipping point where the narrative picks up speed and feels in danger of running away with our characters, but it never came.
With that said, it seems that The Dragon's Path is more about declaring the combatants and defining the field of battle than anything else, which in a projected quintet of novels is no small feat. I have every hope that the newly released The King's Blood will up the ante on the action, while still delving deep into what makes these so wonderfully drawn characters fit to be the heroes of this epic tale. And given the growth in Abraham's writing since The Long Price Quartet, I'm confident that I'll eventually find the story I'm meant to fall in love with. I'll definitely keep reading until I do.
Friday, August 3, 2012
You Should Be Reading: Peter V. Brett
Much like Ken Scholes, I discovered Peter V. Brett's debut novel The Warded Man through the Science Fiction Book Club. To be honest, I almost passed it by because the cover didn't grab me right off. But after a second look I was taken with the synopsis, as it vaguely mirrored an idea I had been playing with for a roleplaying campaign. Reading the book destroyed the campaign idea, because my ideas paled in comparison to the setting of Brett's engaging novel. By my reckoning, I came out ahead because both The Warded Man and its sequel, The Desert Spear, provided many hours of enjoyment. Throw in the Subterranean Press novels set in the world of the Demon Cycle along with the projected sequels and I have hit something like a book lovers lottery. I decided to only review The Warded Man in detail here, so as not to spoil the other entries in the series. But a review of The Desert Spear and the forthcoming The Daylight War are all but guaranteed.
The world of the Warded Man is a bleak and dangerous place. Through their own arrogance, humanity has fallen from power having lost a war against the demons of the Core, called corelings. The magic that had once allowed them to combat their monstrous enemies has been all but forgotten, save for the defensive wards that protect their homes at night when the corelings rise. Travel is too perilous for all but the bravest of souls. Cities of any size are few and most people live in small isolated communities afraid of the day when a ill-maintained or damaged ward fails, bringing horrible death at the hands of the savage corelings. Fear is a constant weight on the souls of the remnants of a once thriving civilization.
Brett has said in interviews that the effects of and reactions to fear was his intended theme for the book, and it is firmly entrenched in the setting. Travel, limited by the need to be beneath the protection of magic by dusk is perilous, generating the need for the Messengers. These men who live nomadic lives as they take the risks necessary to keep both commerce and trade alive, figure prominently in the story arc of one of our heroes.
Brett's trio of POV characters are young when we are introduced to them, placing The Warded Man in the coming of age category familiar to long time genre readers. Each of these characters is shaped by their choices when faced with things that frighten them and challenge their expectations for their lives. The first is Arlen Bales who is living the simple life of a farm boy in the small village of Tibbet's Brook. While he excels in painting the wards that protect against the corelings he is a prisoner to them. Even as a youth Arlen yearns for the freedom to travel far from the familiar confines of his isolated home than the nightly coreling attacks will allow. After a coreling attack leaves his mother at death's door while his father watches in terror from behind the protecting curtain of their wards, Arlen has a mission. He will not be a coward, he will learn how to bring the fight to the corelings even if it means leaving his old life behind.
We meet thirteen year old Leesha next. Her home life is bleak, with a verbally abusive mother and hen pecked father whom she loves dearly. Leesha expects her life will turn out like any other young woman who has come before her. She will marry and raise a family, helping to grow the struggling seed of humanity. But those plans are swiftly ended when her fiance starts a rumor that leaves her ridiculed and ostracized by her neighbors. Leesha finds a new path as an apprentice to the crusty village Herb Gatherer, Bruna, whose knowledge of nature gives her the ability to heal and to harm.
Rounding out the trio is Rojer. His story begins with his narrow escape from a coreling attack that leaves him an orphan at the tender age of three. He is rescued and raised as an apprentice by a jongleur, a travelling jester. Disfigured by the corelings, he lacks the dexterity for many of his master's tricks but shows remarkable talent with music, especially with the fiddle.
Brett makes use of a non-linear narrative, jumping not only from character to character but often skipping large chunks of time between each visit with our heroes. It was jarring at first, but most readers should adjust fairly quickly. This technique serves Brett well, allowing him to have his heroes connect at the end of the novel, without needing 1500 pages to get there.
On the way, we get the opportunity to witness the moments that prepare and propel each character into the sometimes reluctant heroes they seem destined to be. We follow Arlen from frightened yet determined boy to the titular warrior who finds a means to fight against the creatures who destroyed his family. Leesha faces the trials and victories of independance, as her spunk and intelligence help her find a place in the community that once spurned her. Rojer's journey is the most drastic, largely because of the amount of time covered. The young jongleur's apprentice discovers not only a magic all his own, but a secret that changes the trajectory of his life.
The pacing is steady, never running down the rabbit holes that seems to plague many epic fantasy novels. All of the events depicted seem to move the characters forward to the expected goal. The magic system fits nicely against the setting connecting in a way that makes perfect sense. The corelings are surprisingly varied in both their temperament and capabilities and Brett wisely leaves himself plenty of freedom to bring fresh ideas to the concept as the series continues.The corelings even manage to show some personality beyond the sterotypical predatory insinct especially in the cycle's subsequent volumes. Combat sequences are fluid, written in a way that hints at some first hand knowledge of the subject. Surprisingly there is not a sword fight in sight, and more martial arts sequences than most genre novels. The thing that struck me most about Brett's writing is that he had a fairly light touch especially considering The Warded Man is his first novel. I found myself too engrossed to bother with the critiquing that often happens when I read a fledgling author.
Making this accomplishment all the more impressive is the fact that much of Brett's novel seems like familiar territory. I have seen some critics who are put off by the numerous tropes that appear in the novel. But Brett uses the familiar to great effect, changing the flavors of your comfort food to a pleasingly different, but never jarring taste that will definitely leave most readers asking for seconds.
There have been many comparisons between Batman's origin and Arlen's story and and I find them pretty apt. In a sense, the Warded Man is meant to be a superhero, battling demons that have reduced humanity to a cowering shadow of their former glory. Brett goes for depth here, showing the sacrifices Arlen must make, and the heavy costs of his quest for the power and skill to reach his goals. Arlen's knowledge of those costs and the refreshing lack of stoicism in the face of his choices gives him a depth beyond the four-color variety.
There is the ever-present prophesy as well. The Deliverer will come and lead humanity against the Corelings. This prophesy is well handled and doesn't seem to come complete with plot armor. It is my opinion that this prophesy is born from a populace desperate for hope, rather than a magical destiny that happens to belong to our hero. Brett further subverts this trope in The Desert Spear, by placing this mantle on a unlikely character, adding a fresh twist on this common theme.
Brett introduces a nation of spear-wielding desert dwellers in the last third of the book that may look familiar to fans of the late Robert Jordan, but their culture, while familiar, is intrinsically linked to Brett's themes on fear and our reactions to it, viewing it from a cultural rather than a personal level. This also seems to be informed by Brett's personal reactions to September 11th tragedy. This theme is also subverted nicely later.
Brett's later entries into the series only continue to showcase his growing talent. What at first may have seemed like merely one man's take on what has come before is quickly growing into a tale which stands on those worthy stories' shoulders to shout a tale all its own. Speculation that Brett's greater story is posed to be the successor to epic fantasy greats like Jordan and Martin are not unfounded.
The world of the Warded Man is a bleak and dangerous place. Through their own arrogance, humanity has fallen from power having lost a war against the demons of the Core, called corelings. The magic that had once allowed them to combat their monstrous enemies has been all but forgotten, save for the defensive wards that protect their homes at night when the corelings rise. Travel is too perilous for all but the bravest of souls. Cities of any size are few and most people live in small isolated communities afraid of the day when a ill-maintained or damaged ward fails, bringing horrible death at the hands of the savage corelings. Fear is a constant weight on the souls of the remnants of a once thriving civilization.
Brett has said in interviews that the effects of and reactions to fear was his intended theme for the book, and it is firmly entrenched in the setting. Travel, limited by the need to be beneath the protection of magic by dusk is perilous, generating the need for the Messengers. These men who live nomadic lives as they take the risks necessary to keep both commerce and trade alive, figure prominently in the story arc of one of our heroes.
Brett's trio of POV characters are young when we are introduced to them, placing The Warded Man in the coming of age category familiar to long time genre readers. Each of these characters is shaped by their choices when faced with things that frighten them and challenge their expectations for their lives. The first is Arlen Bales who is living the simple life of a farm boy in the small village of Tibbet's Brook. While he excels in painting the wards that protect against the corelings he is a prisoner to them. Even as a youth Arlen yearns for the freedom to travel far from the familiar confines of his isolated home than the nightly coreling attacks will allow. After a coreling attack leaves his mother at death's door while his father watches in terror from behind the protecting curtain of their wards, Arlen has a mission. He will not be a coward, he will learn how to bring the fight to the corelings even if it means leaving his old life behind.
We meet thirteen year old Leesha next. Her home life is bleak, with a verbally abusive mother and hen pecked father whom she loves dearly. Leesha expects her life will turn out like any other young woman who has come before her. She will marry and raise a family, helping to grow the struggling seed of humanity. But those plans are swiftly ended when her fiance starts a rumor that leaves her ridiculed and ostracized by her neighbors. Leesha finds a new path as an apprentice to the crusty village Herb Gatherer, Bruna, whose knowledge of nature gives her the ability to heal and to harm.
Rounding out the trio is Rojer. His story begins with his narrow escape from a coreling attack that leaves him an orphan at the tender age of three. He is rescued and raised as an apprentice by a jongleur, a travelling jester. Disfigured by the corelings, he lacks the dexterity for many of his master's tricks but shows remarkable talent with music, especially with the fiddle.
Brett makes use of a non-linear narrative, jumping not only from character to character but often skipping large chunks of time between each visit with our heroes. It was jarring at first, but most readers should adjust fairly quickly. This technique serves Brett well, allowing him to have his heroes connect at the end of the novel, without needing 1500 pages to get there.
On the way, we get the opportunity to witness the moments that prepare and propel each character into the sometimes reluctant heroes they seem destined to be. We follow Arlen from frightened yet determined boy to the titular warrior who finds a means to fight against the creatures who destroyed his family. Leesha faces the trials and victories of independance, as her spunk and intelligence help her find a place in the community that once spurned her. Rojer's journey is the most drastic, largely because of the amount of time covered. The young jongleur's apprentice discovers not only a magic all his own, but a secret that changes the trajectory of his life.
The pacing is steady, never running down the rabbit holes that seems to plague many epic fantasy novels. All of the events depicted seem to move the characters forward to the expected goal. The magic system fits nicely against the setting connecting in a way that makes perfect sense. The corelings are surprisingly varied in both their temperament and capabilities and Brett wisely leaves himself plenty of freedom to bring fresh ideas to the concept as the series continues.The corelings even manage to show some personality beyond the sterotypical predatory insinct especially in the cycle's subsequent volumes. Combat sequences are fluid, written in a way that hints at some first hand knowledge of the subject. Surprisingly there is not a sword fight in sight, and more martial arts sequences than most genre novels. The thing that struck me most about Brett's writing is that he had a fairly light touch especially considering The Warded Man is his first novel. I found myself too engrossed to bother with the critiquing that often happens when I read a fledgling author.
Making this accomplishment all the more impressive is the fact that much of Brett's novel seems like familiar territory. I have seen some critics who are put off by the numerous tropes that appear in the novel. But Brett uses the familiar to great effect, changing the flavors of your comfort food to a pleasingly different, but never jarring taste that will definitely leave most readers asking for seconds.
There have been many comparisons between Batman's origin and Arlen's story and and I find them pretty apt. In a sense, the Warded Man is meant to be a superhero, battling demons that have reduced humanity to a cowering shadow of their former glory. Brett goes for depth here, showing the sacrifices Arlen must make, and the heavy costs of his quest for the power and skill to reach his goals. Arlen's knowledge of those costs and the refreshing lack of stoicism in the face of his choices gives him a depth beyond the four-color variety.
There is the ever-present prophesy as well. The Deliverer will come and lead humanity against the Corelings. This prophesy is well handled and doesn't seem to come complete with plot armor. It is my opinion that this prophesy is born from a populace desperate for hope, rather than a magical destiny that happens to belong to our hero. Brett further subverts this trope in The Desert Spear, by placing this mantle on a unlikely character, adding a fresh twist on this common theme.
Brett introduces a nation of spear-wielding desert dwellers in the last third of the book that may look familiar to fans of the late Robert Jordan, but their culture, while familiar, is intrinsically linked to Brett's themes on fear and our reactions to it, viewing it from a cultural rather than a personal level. This also seems to be informed by Brett's personal reactions to September 11th tragedy. This theme is also subverted nicely later.
Brett's later entries into the series only continue to showcase his growing talent. What at first may have seemed like merely one man's take on what has come before is quickly growing into a tale which stands on those worthy stories' shoulders to shout a tale all its own. Speculation that Brett's greater story is posed to be the successor to epic fantasy greats like Jordan and Martin are not unfounded.
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