Review of Unfinished Tales by J.R.R. Tolkien

What do the following works have in common: M. John Harrison’s Viriconium Nights, Ursula Le Guin’s Tales from Earthsea, Ian McDonald’s Cyberabad Days, Kim Stanley Robinson’s The Martians, Robert Silverberg’s Majipoor Chronicles, and George Alec Effinger’s Budayeen Nights? They are not only all collections, they are also collections featuring stories set in an established world, binding the larger pieces together like cement. (In the case of Harrison’s Viriconium, we must make that plural: worlds).  Poring over the wealth of material available for the posthumous publication of J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Silmarillion (1977), Tolkien’s son, Christopher, tabbed, compared, analyzed, and made extensive notes of it all, and three years later published Unfinished Tales (1980).  Like the aforementioned author’s collections, it fills in holes, covers backstory, and all around creates a broader, rounder view of a world, in this case the inimitable (though often attempted) Middle Earth. Therefore, those looking for The Lord of the Rings 2: Sauron Strikes Back should be aware: Unfinished Tales is most similar to the mythic stylings of The Silmarillion and the informational appendices of The Lord of the Rings than the novel itself. 

           

Unfinished Tales is for the scholar, the connoisseur, the nerd of Middle Earth.  Frodo, Gandalf, Sam, Bilbo, Gimli, Aragorn—all get brief mention, but are far, far from being the cornerstones of the collection.  Unfinished Tales can thus be broken into three essential parts: 1) the tales and myths, legends and stories Tolkien had written in the background of the major works that are confluent with Middle Earth history yet insular.  For readers simply interested in reading more from Tolkien’s imagination, they will satisfy. 2) bits of history, including geographical descriptions, royal lineages, histories of friendships and marriages, maps, etc.  These are for the reader who revels in worldbuilding.  And 3) the foot notes.  Covering a tremendous range of side commentary, Tolkien includes his father’s scribblings in the margin, alternate versions of the stories at hand, cross-indexing, analysis, supposition, as well as explanations and descriptions how or why the information is important to the larger scheme of Middle Earth.  Though dad’s writings occupy the majority, the foot notes occupy a significant portion of the book.  (There are even a couple of occasions wherein the foot notes are longer than the story itself.)  These additional notes, analysis, and commentary are for the reader with “Frodo lives!” tattooed on their forehead.

Review of The Grace of Kings by Ken Liu

Ken Liu’s first published story appeared in 2002, and over the next eight years only five additional stories appeared.  A fire lit beneath him after, however, since 2010 Liu has been a machine.  An astonishing eighty pieces of fiction published in the five intervening years, the only thing more amazing is that none of these works was a novel.  But finally in 2015 Liu has emerged in long form.  A major switch in terms of style, The Grace of Kings, book one in the Dandelion Dynasty series (trilogy?), is perhaps the least and most expected story that could have emerged.

A sense of humanism grounding the storm of short fiction Liu has produced to date, The Grace of Kings is likewise rooted in history, society, culture, and the interaction among them.  Looking at cycles of power, the effects of war on a large, multi-ethnic archipelago, and the choices the people at the top face as time moves forever forward, the novel is, however, a significantly more in depth examination of these ideas than anything Liu has produced to date—a 650 page examination, in fact.

Review of Guards ! Guards! by Terry Pratchett

Many science fiction and fantasy writers pass away each year, but few cause me personal pause.  Hearing yesterday of the passing of Terry Pratchett, however, a heaviness hung on my heart - exacerbated by his final, fitting tweet "AT LAST, SIR TERRY, WE MUST WALK TOGETHER."  The following review was queued but not scheduled to be posted for a few weeks.  As small a memento as it is, I've bumped it up in honor of truly one of the greatest figures the speculative fiction field has ever known, and ever will.  Much more to his stories than brilliant humor, the world would truly be a better place if everybody went out and read a Pratchett novel.  Thanks for the stories, Terry.

For those who missed it, the duology which opened Discworld, The Colour of Magic and The Light Fantastic respectively, was a shot across the bow of epic fantasy.  Pratchett undermining familiar elements and having a laugh at its stereotypes, the two novels, however, proved not enough.  The 8th Disc novel Guards! Guards!, on top of introducing the City Watch sub-series and a couple of characters who would go on to achieve Hall of Disc status (Commander Vimes and Corporal Carrot), continues to dig at epic fantasy’s tropes, dismantling them in humor with every spadeful.  The farmboy slays a dragon to become king the stereotype targeted, the roast succeeds behind all of the humor Pratchett is known for.  Whether or not it works as a thematic whole, well…

The Supreme Grand Master of the appropriately named Unique and Supreme Lodge of the Elucidated Brethren of the Ebon Night has an idea: to overthrown the Patrician of Ankh-Morpork and install a puppet ruler, himself Geppetto.  The details: find a long lost heir to the throne, find him a dragon to slay, and install him as king.  Using the magic he has acquired in a book stolen from the Unseen University library, the Supreme Grand Master sets about his nefarious scheme.  Meanwhile, Carrot Ironfounderson is being sent into the world of men by his dwarf parents.  Given the massive sword he was found abandoned with as a baby and a letter of recommendation to the City Watch, he leaves the mines for a new life—all 6’-6” of him. And he certainly finds a new life in Ankh-Morpork.  With the drunk Commander Vimes at the helm, the group stumble and bumble over one clue at a time trying to find a stolen book before the chaos of a dragon descends on the city. 

Review of The Illearth War by Stephen Donaldson

Having just finished the second book in Stephen Donaldson’s ongoing The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant called The Illearth War, I can’t help but be put in the mindset of The Empire Strikes Back.  This is in comparison to the strong (underscored three times) The Lord of the Rings feel Lord Foul’s Bane, the first book in the series, exudes.  Both Illearth and Empire the middle story in a trilogy (and like Thomas Covenant, Star Wars has since spawned additional trilogies), the outcome is not as cotton-candy as the first in their respective series.  As many will agree, this is an advantage, rather than disadvantage.

Having awoken back in the real world at the end of Lord Foul’s Bane, The Illearth War finds Thomas Covenant trying cope with his dreams (as he believes them to be) of the Land and his feelings about reality based on these dreams.  With a newfound sense of bravery to behave as normally as possible with leprosy, he sets out into the world beyond his door.  But it isn’t long before he’s back in the Land.  Forty years having passed compared to his two weeks in the real world, Covenant shakes his head in further disbelief: if ever there was proof it was all a dream, the time disparity is it.  Waking up in Revelstone, he learns that a new set of Lords, overseen by the enigmatic Elena, have replaced those who died at the end of Lord Foul’s Bane. Well versed in the wards of magic, the Lords inform him of Foul’s movements in the time that has passed.  Somehow making the giants disappear and massing a huge army, the good people of the Land will need to defend themselves sooner rather than later against the looming machinations of Foul.  

Review of The Sacred Band by David Anthony Durham

Picking up the events precisely where The Other Lands left off, The Sacred Band is the other half of the story, and the conclusion of David Anthony Durham’s epic fantasy trilogy Acacia.  Traditional fantasy continuing to be given its due, the author likewise moves forward with subverting the familiar with ideas more pro- than transgressive within the sub-genre.  Unpredictable at a minimum, those who have followed the story of the Akaran children with an idea to the intra-story themes Durham is working toward will not be disappointed.  Those with eyes only for blood and glory, may be.

Having heard the news of the Auldek’s march to purify themselves by starting a new generation through battle, Akaran prepares itself for war.  Mena, without her beloved Elya, travels to the cold northern reaches to plan the Acacian army’s defense.  Corinn, having recently brought her brother back from the dead, crowns Aliver king, giving the revitalized man the opportunity to redeem his failures and the people a hero to cheer for.  In the south, Kelis, Shen, Benabe, Leeka and the others continue their cross-country plight to learn more of the mysterious Santoth.  In Ushen Brae, Dariel escapes a collapsing social situation for adventures in the wilds that will forever change who he is as a man.  And the League, always hanging on the margins, scheme and plot over the Lothun Aklun knowledge the Auldek left behind, expecting to rise to the forefront.  These and the other side stories are interwoven through affective, occasionally exciting events that draw the entire Known World into a new phase of its evolution.  What that phase is, will be surprising.

Review of The Other Lands by David Anthony Durham

David Anthony Durham’s Acacia: The War with the Mein was the author’s first foray into speculative fiction and a book that stretched itself between classic and contemporary epic fantasy.  Though the surface plotline was wrapped up nicely, a few of the outlying threads were left hanging.  And it seems intentionally so.  Picking up events in Acacia nine years after the close of the previous novel, The Other Lands expands the map while setting into motion the main storyline, all left to be concluded in the third volume, The Sacred Band.

In those nine years that have passed since the Mein were defeated and Corinn took power, life in Acacia has settled into a semi-peaceful existence.  One by one Mena has hunted and killed the foulthings—monstrous creatures mutated from the Santoth’s display of magic at the conclusion of Acacia.  Dariel has roamed the land as an engineer, rebuilding what was destroyed in the war.  Corinn’s son Aaden was born and has grown into a healthy boy, doted upon by his queen mother, aunt, and uncle.  But things are only semi-peaceful.  In the twilight of the war, the League have been conniving and produced a masterful ploy to complete their takeover of the Known World.  In the northern land of Aushenia, seeds of unrest amongst the population have been sown, a revolution of democratic proportions budding.  And in the south, a wasteland is developing, the formerly fertile lands wiped clean by the powerful display of Santoth magic, the now barren land threatening to slowly starve the people.

Review of Acacia: The War with the Mein by David Anthony Durham

Reading David Anthony Durham’s Acacia: The War with the Mein is a mixed experience.  On more than several occasions the clichés of epic fantasy are displayed in less than subtle fashion, but that it’s all done with a sense of grace, ease, and often enough, surprise, it’s difficult to stop reading.  The story setup is tried and true, but that Durham wills the book forward with tension, colorful enough characters, and moments that don’t always turn out as one expects, push it beyond mediocre.  But just.  A bridge between traditional and modern epic fantasy, the novel gains and loses everything for stretching itself across the divide.

Looking at the story setup for Acacia, one cannot help but acknowledge its ties to the roots of epic fantasy. For twenty-two generations King Leodan and his ancestors have held power from the island of Acacia.  A time of ease and luxury, the outlying kingdoms, most notable of which the Mein, pay tribute, withholding their malevolence for a time they might regain their independence with force.  Growing up in the most opulent of conditions, Leodan’s children, Aliver, Corinn, Mena, and Dariel, are never aware of the institution upon which their family’s empire is built and the political and economic contracts forcing these tributes.  But things are about to change.  The Mein, filled to the point of bursting with malcontent, have sent a most cherished assassin to upend the Known World.  And this is just the beginning of the tale.

Review of Redwall by Brian Jacques

For those who have not discovered Brian Jacques delightful and exciting Redwall series, you’re in for a real treat. Though aimed at the young (I first enjoyed the first book at age eleven), it can easily be enjoyed by adults as long as its intentions are understood (I read it this year, and though the experience was not the same, I still enjoyed it).  A combination of animal and heroic fantasy, Jacques transforms the meadowlands and forest into an epic landscape where mice, badgers, shrews, moles, hares, foxes, stoats, and all variety of woodland creatures live in pastoral harmony, fighting for survival when evil looms.  The series now standing at twenty-two books in total, the first, entitled Redwall, was published in 1986 and is the subject of this review.

Redwall Abbey is a brick structure standing in the middle of Mossflower Wood.  A place of safety and tranquility, woodland creatures come and go, meet with friends, receive medical attention, or just enjoy a good meal with the brothers and sisters safe behind its high walls.  (Thankfully, there is no religion at Redwall Abbey despite the setting.)  All is well in the Summer of the Late Rose until Cluny the Scourge, a bilge rat, comes careening up the road in a cart laden with rough-cut mercenaries and an eye to making the Abbey his new home.  Father Mortimer unwilling to simply hand over the keys, the normally bucolic Abbey finds itself in a fight for its life against the treacherous villain.

Review of "The Lord of the Rings" by J.R.R. Tolkien

Printed and re-printed more than 150 million times, existing in thirty-eight translations of foreign languages, spawning a variety of scholarship, prompting viral graffiti (Frodo lives!), having a museum, providing the impetus for multiple films, adaptations, and a host of derivative literature (for better and worse), and having millions of millions of fans around the world, its fair to say The Lord of the Rings has made its mark in the world of literature.  A watershed event, the novel put epic fantasy on the map half a century ago and remains the seminal influence on the genre.

 

But the book had different beginnings.  Tolkien’s finished manuscript languished in a drawer for about a decade.  Epic fantasy’s lack of presence in the market the major decision point, no editor was willing to take the risk of publishing such a massive tome at a time when fantasy was thought dead in the aftermath of the pulp era.  Giving in to publisher request, Tolkien eventually conceded to the book being broken into sections, paving the way for The Lord of the Rings to be released as most readers are familiar today: The Fellowship of the Ring, The Two Towers, and The Return of the King.  Perhaps surprising, the books were not an immediate success.  A word-of-mouth movement in the UK, however, combined with the sales and distribution of non-copyrighted versions in the US, set the book squarely on the road to success, a facet pushed over the brink by the overwhelming popularity of Peter Jackson’s films at the turn of the millennium.

Review of "Ships from the West" by Paul Kearney

For readers perusing the volume titles of Paul Kearney’s Monarchies of God series pondering whether to slap down the cash, Ships from the West would seem a spoiler of a title for a finale.  It’s not, and the further those readers get into the series, the more they realize exactly how unpredictable the story is.  The pieces having long been introduced and the battles waged back and forth, Ships from the West is epic fantasy end-game near its best.

Regarding timeline, Ships from the West is the most unique of the series.  Picking up events sixteen years after the end of The Second Empire, it breaks the contiguity created by the first four volumes.  Almost all of the main characters still yet live, but each has matured.  Corfe has a daughter by Odelia named Mirren.  Jemilla’s controversial child, named Bleyn, has grown up and seeks the throne.  And the Sultan and Heria have likewise produced a child, a boy named Nasir.  The time has also been used by Aruan and his followers, among them Himerius and Bardolin, to build a mighty army at Charibon, their blades pointed directly at Torrunn.  King Abeyleyn has also been busy.  With the help of Hawkwood, he has constructed the mightiest fleet the world has ever seen, and at the opening of the book, the flotilla aims its prows toward the Western continent in an effort to wipe out the evils discovered there.  From the mighty battle killing numerous important characters in the first one hundred pages to the conflicts that follow, Ships from the West is virtually non-stop action.

Review of "The Second Empire" by Paul Kearney

With Hawkwood, Bardolin, and Murad arriving back on Normandian shores in the epilogue of The Iron Wars, Kearney hinted the next book is ready to shift back into a continent-scope story.  Like Hawkwood’s Voyage and The Heretic Kings, The Second Empire does precisely that. With Abrusio still uncertain over the state of their king, the Merduks preparing for a final assault, matters in the West still unexplained, and Corfe’s newfound role anything but trusted by the nobility he usurped, the series is back in full swing. 

 

The Second Empire opens by going back in time to explain exactly how the trio of voyagers were able to get their way back to Hebrian shores—a tale that Gondolfin, Abeleyn, and Isolda scarcely believe as Abrusio starts to rebuild itself from the tatters of civil war.  Corfe, now general of the Torunnian armies, continues to face opposition from not only the Merduks, but also his own countrymen, in particular a nobility who hate to see non-blue blood take power.  And though the Sultan himself is softening with his Torunnian wife Heria, he continues to push military matters, commanding a direct and final assault be laid upon the capital, Torunn.  Events in the interior continue to develop as word reaches the provinces that Charibon is starting to prepare an army of its own.  And through it all, the mysterious Aruan, the shape-shifting mage, continues to ply for influence and collaboration from those he considers able—taking and giving as he sees fit.

Review of "The Iron Wars" by Paul Kearney

The Iron Wars is unique among the five volumes of Paul Kearney’s Monarchies of God series.  Like the handle of a dumbbell, it connects the two fat ends of the story.  Focusing on a single area, the book is almost entirely centered on the eastern province of Torunna, Corfe’s point of view driving the novel from beginning to end.

With the Merduks gathering for a major sortie into Torunna, matters in the province are on edge, a fact not helped by the single-minded antics of King Lofantyr and his desire to maintain the appearance of power.  Taking matters into her own hands, Odelia continues sponsoring Corfe and his ragtag army as they handle skirmishes with not only Merduk raiding parties, but also the king’s attempts to prevent his mother from damaging his reputation, and as a result, ego.   Tension inside the kingdom as strong as the threat they face from outside, the fate of Torunna, one of the last bastions of power in Normandia, is far from certain.

Review of "The Heretic Kings" by Paul Kearney

The Heretic Kings, volume two of Paul Kearney’s five part Monarchies of God series, picks up events precisely where Hawkwood’s Voyage ended. No dip in quality or style, the story continues in exactly the same multiple-viewpoint, character and plot focused fashion.

The Heretic Kings broken into three parts, the first and third relate events on the Nimmerian continent.  Albrec, the monk at Chalibron, furthers his research in the archives and discovers documents he was not intended to, putting his life in danger in the process.  Around him, the church continues its press for power, consolidating its allies with treaties and bullying, excommunicating those who disagree with church policy.  Abelyn, after he and Mark’s disavowal of church rule in Voyage, heads to Abrusio, only to be waylaid along the way, casting his country’s fate into doubt.  In the east, the Merduks are quiet, collecting supplies and men for another major offensive on Ormann Dyke.  Corfe, however, is quite active, and after being sent to the city of Torunn, acquires a new commission from the city’s mysterious sorceress queen.

Review of "Hawkwood's Voyage" by Paul Kearney

After reading the first installment in Paul Kearney’s Monarchies of God quintuplet, Hawkwood’s Voyage (1995), its difficult to believe the books is not better known.  With its strong parallels to George R.R. Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire and R. Scott Bakker’s The Prince of Nothing series, one would expect fans to come running to its plethora of character based action, magic, and adventure—all within the scope of epic, gritty fantasy.  Perhaps this review will do something to set fans of the genre on the path away from manipulative authors like Joe Abercrombie and treacle factories like Patrick Rothfuss.

Hawkwood’s Voyage is the relatively subdued introduction to Kearney’s five book series—hard to believe given that all manner of action, conflicts, and tension fill its pages.  Obviously playing off a European-esque geography, the author is none to subtle building the setting.  In the west, a land fragmented into individual kingdoms living under one god is attacked by a horde of fanatics from the east living under the rule of their one god.  Roughly the Renaissance era, swords and gunpowder are used to fight in the resulting conflicts, the church trying to leverage its power every other step of the way.    

Review of "The Black Company" by Glen Cook

Glen Cook’s Black Company series has been going since 1984, ten books and counting.  Cook by and large flying low on most people’s fantasy radars, his is a cult following.  Unconventional sword & sorcery to say the least, the series is best represented by moral ambiguity, a focus on plotting (not character or setting), and a mythic scope on par with the best epic fantasies.  The first book, The Black Company, introduces the group that is to be the center point of the series and sets the tone, even if not all members survive to the end.

Narrated by their doctor, Croaker, The Black Company is the story of a group of mercenaries in an alternate world, .  Caught in the middle of kingdom-spanning events, war rages all around the Company, their swords and magicians for sale to the side most likely to prevail—and to themselves if no other option presents itself.  On one side fights the Lady and her Taken, a group that centuries previously dominated the land with powerful magic—a dominance they once again hope to set up with a new Empire.  On the other sits the Circle of Eighteen, a rebel group with less of the supernatural under their control, but with stronger unity.

Review of "The Ten Thousand" by Paul Kearney

Paul Kearney is a name that flies under most fantasy radars.  It is undeservingly so.  Possessing writing skills that move stories at a good pace, utilizing typical themes of myth (honor, courage, loyalty, duty, etc.), writing event-focused storylines with realistic action, and having perhaps the best ability to layout and describe battle scenes in the genre today, Kearney warrants more attention than many of the so-called greats of 21st century epic fantasy.  With his Monarchies of God series finished and The Sea Beggars hanging in publishing purgatory, Kearney set off in a fresh direction, and recently completed the Macht series.  The first book in the trilogy is called The Ten Thousand and is the subject of this review.  

The Ten Thousand is the story of a mercenary army, the Macht, and the perilous situation they find themselves in far from home when their benefactor has the rug pulled out from under their feet.  The Macht an indefatigable mountain warrior society, they have more trouble with tribal in-fighting than threats from the Kufr who live on the plains and valleys below.  Kufr a vast and wealthy kingdom, one of their nobles, named Arkamenes, seeks to supplant his brother as ruler and hires 10,000 of the best Macht from the mountains to storm the capital with his Kufr troops.  The problem is, they never get there.  Tables turned in dramatic fashion, the Macht find themselves in for a fight of their lives if ever they are to return to their beloved homeland again.  The Kufr outnumbering them significantly, death comes early and often as the Macht fight one battle after another, their lives in the hands of fate.  Told through the eyes of the young warrior Rictus and his commander Jason, the battlefield comes alive.

Review of "Legend" by David Gemmell

In 1976, David Gemmell was undergoing testing for cancer, and in an effort to take his mind from the process, began putting on paper some of his ideas for a fantasy story crawling around in his head.  A friend later suggested he develop the idea in to a full novel, and Legend was born.  Depicting sacrifice and heroism in the face of overwhelming adversity like perhaps no epic fantasy author before, the novel introduced The Legend—Druss the Deathwalker—and his mighty battleaxe, Snaga. The plot devices may be Dungeons & Dragons derivative and the characterization immature, but the novel’s cult following indicates there may be something more to the story, 10 sequels, prequels, etc. published since.

Faceless hordes of enemies, albino sorcerer telepaths, a castle siege in a mountain pass, a fearless female warrior with fur boots, bow, and breastplate, a young man searching for his destiny, and enough knights, bloodshed, and battle scenes to compete with any fantasy novel, such are the clichés redolent throughout Legend.  What makes the story readable, however, is the descriptive setting and the sense of suspense Gemmell builds as each unpredictable event in the storyline unfolds. 

Review of "The Wizard Knight" by Gene Wolfe

In spite of its title and cover art, there are many things that Gene Wolfe’s The Wizard Knight is, and many things it is not.  Though published in 2004, the lengthy two-part novel is not the latest entry into modern, gritty, sword and sorcery epics like those of Erikson, Martin, Kearney, Bakker, or Ruckley.  It is a traditional tale—and in more ways than one.  The characters may be largely archetypal, the storyline filled with typical motifs of the genre, and the underlying message one of personal growth and maturity, but for as derivative as it seems, Wolfe spins all of these high fantasy clichés into an original, imaginative story that transcends the genre and inches toward literature.  Sir Able of the High Heart is The Once and Future King in body and A Wizard of Earthsea in soul.

In classic Wizard of Oz or Chronicles of Narnia fashion, The Wizard Knight is an alternate universe fantasy.  Receiving a bonk on the head, the main character suddenly finds himself in another land—a fantasy land.  The boy, named Able, learns he is in Mythrygar, the fourth level of a Norse-like universe located between Skai and Aelfrice, and must get back to our world.  Headstrong and ambitious, Able’s adventures in Mythrygar take him through a variety of places and scenes, his development key to the plot.  Along the way the Queen of Moss Aelf enlarges his body to that of a man’s, a dragon gives him sprites as guardians, he befriends a dog, converses with a cat, and fights all kinds of beasts—dragons, frost giants, and ogres—in an imaginative journey through over- and underworlds, becoming a man for our world in the process.  

The Knight Ravd early on tells Able that “honor” is the single most important aspect of being a knight. But strength and wisdom are the traits he develops most over the course of the novel, the first half (The Knight) focusing on the former, and the second (The Wizard), the latter.  Able over confident and assertive to the point of being rude on numerous occasions, he’s not exactly a likeable character at the outset—a fact some will be turned off by.  Wolfe nevertheless advances the young man’s maturity so sublimely that, by the end of the novel readers are quietly surprised that the once noble words are now backed by noble deeds.  Able becomes more recognizant of the realities of life instead of focusing only on himself.  Readers will likewise be surprised Able does not become the “Super Medieval Man” implied by the book’s title.  Magic spells and pointy hats in fact playing no role in the story, the boy who emerges at the end is all the stronger and wiser for the experiences he’s had, proving it’s the journey that matters.  (Potential readers be warned that character development instead of action and excitement holds the lion’s share of the story.)

For readers left in consternation by The Book of the New Sun or any other of Wolfe’s more allusive novels, fear not: The Wizard Knight is a straight-forward read perfectly on par with the Book of the Long Sun.  This is not to say things are always handed to the reader on a silver platter (Wolfe is too subtle for that), but the narrative does advance linearly, characters are introduced slowly and distinctly, and most importantly, the number of immediately unexplainable occurrences that require analogous thought are extremely few and very far between.  Wolfe toning himself down, it’s almost as if he intended the book to be something a young man could identify with while growing—a real bildungsroman that takes flight in the imagination but lands in reality.  

Though this review is getting a little long, it would be remiss not to quickly discuss the wealth of knowledge Wolfe has infused the story with.  Norse myth informing the setting and many of the characters (particularly the seven layered world which Able traverses and the frost giants of Jotunland), Arthurian legend is nevertheless most responsible for the storyline.  Knights, castles, jousting, dragons, kings, queens, etc. are the story’s guiding lights.  Wolfe unable to prevent himself, Christian mythology also occupies a place in the novel.  However, it remains insignificant in comparison to the Norse and Arthurian tropes, the ending containing the bulk of it, for better or worse. 

The Wizard Knight trade paperback edition published by Gollancz, weighing in at 3 pounds and 916 pages, is not exactly an agile beast.  Not easily carried-with, it may be worth your while to invest in the two books The Knight and The Wizard, respectively, for those standing on busses and trams while reading.  

In the end, The Wizard Knight is a heavyweight in more than one dimension.  Jammed to the hilt in Norse myth and Arthurian legend, readers should expect a classic bildingsroman of a boy becoming a man in a world of knights, dragons, and faery.  The book is suitable for all ages, from a young man’s view of Able’s coming-of-age to an adult’s appreciation of the myth and fantasy background.  Magical only in imagination, readers should likewise expect Wolfe to subvert the clichés of high fantasy by developing his main character toward something more than a dragon-killing king of the land’s biggest castle, happily ever after.  Like Le Guin’s Earthsea Cycle, self-knowledge is the treasure sought.  Yves Menard’s The Book of Knights and the works of Lord Dunsany serving as inspirations, fans of either will enjoy Wolfe’s book.  Though never explicitly credited, the strongest similarity may be Jack Vance’s Lyonesse trilogy.  No doubt there are numerous differences between the two, nevertheless each has an overall feel, length, quality of imagination, and bittersweet outcome not unlike the other.  Wolfe’s pacing much slower and dialogue more forthright, this comparison should be taken like an aelf’s whisper: carefully.

(A side note: the Neil Gaiman quote-fest must end.  The Wizard Knight’s cover bears the following abomination: “Gene Wolfe is the smartest, subtlest, most dangerous writer alive today, in genre or out of it. If you don't read this book, you'll have missed out on something important and wonderful and all the cool people will laugh at you.”.  If any publisher is reading this, please take note of the toad-ish qualities and cease asking Gaiman to provide copy.  2.3 seconds of thought put into this, he obviously cares more for the exposure than the recommendation itself. Don’t be an enabler.)

Review of "A Game of Thrones" by George R.R. Martin

Goodkind, Feist, Eddings, Salvatore, Brooks, Williams, Donaldson, Jordan, etc., etc., the list of post-Tolkien imitat—err, I mean, writers—goes on and on.  All are largely dependent on, and therefore derivative of, J.R.R.’s version of epic fantasy.  Elves, broken swords, trollocs—sorry, trolls—evil lords, quests for numinous objects, ancient prophecies, farm boys turned kings, dragons, and ideas on and on fill these writers’ stories, original material a paucity.  In 1996 another R.R., George R.R., came along and smashed this mold.  Tolkien-esque only in scope, A Game of Thrones is epic fantasy for a new generation.

Iconoclast, A Game of Throne’s firm footing in realism is the biggest difference separating Martin from other writers in the genre.  His cast of characters real-to-life not larger-than, the story’s source material is War of the Roses instead of Norse myth.  Eddard Stark, one of the main protagonists, has many a blemish on his record, among them a bastard son.  But even more realistic are his and the other characters’ motives.  Caught in larger circumstances, the Stark family, as well as Lannister, Barratheon, and Martell families, find themselves reacting to rather than shaping events.  Despite holding positions of power, their choices are most often less than optimum, no outcome guaranteed.  Such is life in our world, as in Martin’s.

A Game of Thrones is primarily the story of the Stark family and its attempts to retain their legacy and unity as events in Westeros, the fantasy setting of the book, begin spinning out of control.  The king, Robert Barratheon, a drunk, licentious man, cares not to become involved in the decay of the political and social structure of his kingdom and asks Eddard to become the King’s Hand, his second in command.  Eddard, though reluctantly accepting the offer, sets about righting the ills of the kingdom according to a sense of propriety instilled in him by his forefathers.  He tackles the economic, political, and religious issues with verve, trying to balance affairs with the deviant council he chairs in the king’s stead.  But with myriad families and cabals, lords and bastard sons planning and plotting their piece of the monarchial pie, Eddard’s hope of righting the sinking kingdom quickly fades and survival becomes the name of the game—you know which.

But the story does not focus solely on Eddard.  The appendices containing an extensive list of dramatis personae, the King’s Hand only marginally occupies the main character role.  Each chapter devoted to a specific viewpoint, several of Eddard’s children, as well as members of a rival family, the Lannisters, flesh out the cast.  In fact, characterization is the main strength of the novel.  Though they number many, Martin is able to give each viewpoint a voice of their own.  Though at times extreme in a sensational fashion, it’s always an affective voice.  Contextually, readers will truly hate some while fall head over heels in love with others.  Prince Joffrey is one for the gallows while Arya’s tomboy antics will have readers holding their breath over her every move. 

If this amount of plot is not enough, there is a secondary storyline occurring on another continent to rival the interest of events on Westeros.  Extracted and compiled into a novella, the story of the exiled queen, Daenerys Targaryen, and her plight to retake the throne from the Seven Kingdoms was so good as to win a Hugo.  Arranged to be married to Dothraki warlord (think Genghis Khan), the events of Daenerys’ life take one unpredictable turn after another as she and her brother attempt to rebuild a base of power for a return to retake their beloved Westeros.  However, like events in the lives of Eddard, his and the other families, things do not always pan out as intended for Daenerys.

The setting of Westeros, when viewed objectively, is not particularly unique save the Wall.  The shape even similar, it could be Robin Hood’s England.   Where Martin makes the world his own is by developing the history of the people populating it.  Underpinning the novel and giving it depth, events which brought things to their current state of affairs are related to the reader in full detail.  The Battle of the Trident, only a few decades past, divides the factions currently vying for the throne.  Discussed on many occasions, each viewpoint has its own take on how events transpired that day.  Who was on who’s side, who killed who and how, are not forgotten, the accounts not always in agreement.  This story within a story—its own mythos—continually evolves as events in the present unravel and brings readers into closer contact with the characters—a brilliant play by Martin.

In the end, A Game of Thrones is epic fantasy in the mode of realism rather than myth.  Events of the supernatural do occur, but they are few and far between.  (Martin has been quoted as saying he prefers to sprinkle his fantasy like salt and pepper rather than pour it on the reader.)  On the whole, it is the story of people—high to low—fighting to survive as radical change sweeps a land.  Medieval in feel, kings, queens, knights, jousts, castles, and swords are the medium, but peasants, farmer's boys (not the typical fantasy farmer's boy), and the generally lesser known players all have a stake.  Rich details and characterization, though occasionally operatic in simplicity, flesh out the medium into a vivid story worthy of the term “epic”.  Though many of the plot devices have been tried-true in mainstream literature, there are few readers who pick up the novel and remain unaffected.  Regardless of the final success of A Song of Ice and Fire (there are still two or three books to be written in the series), A Game of Thrones will be regarded as the standout of post-Tolkien fantasy, as without it, writers like Abercrombie, Morgan, Ruckley, and Lynch simply wouldn’t exist.

(An afterword on the television series: HBO’s adaptation of A Game of Thrones is less than average. Some of the acting is quality, including Sean Bean, Peter Dinklage, Lena Headey, and Mark Addy who occupy their roles with subtlety. However, most of the actors are either cutting their teeth in the film industry or are simply bad.  The sets and props are among the best a tv series can offer, but no matter how well you dress a turkey, it’s still a turkey.  Watching the show it’s obvious the producers believe that sensationalism sells.  Nearly every episode from the book has been altered to feature nudity, swearing, erotic scenes, and moments of the operatic—tears and tension—that embarrass the intelligent viewer.  (Renly, for example, has been made homosexual to garner alternate viewership.)  Far from prudish, I complain only that the most blunt tools possible are being used to get viewers: sex and melodrama.  Do yourself a favor and read the book instead.  At least the operatic elements are diluted by the mythos of Westeros the characters are embedded within.)