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 "The Price of Spring" by Daniel Abraham

The Price of Spring, the fourth and final book in Daniel Abraham’s Long Price Quartet, wraps up the series in sublime, mature style.  Along with seeing the arcs of favorite characters come to satisfying, if not bittersweet, ends, the state to which the land is brought—a position wholly different than when the series began—is stabilized.  But not as one might predict.  The details of how they arrive at this stability are what make the novel thematically the strongest of the series and a poignant conclusion to the tale.  

Following the pattern set by the previous three books, The Price of Spring picks up events roughly fifteen years after An Autumn War.  The men of Galt and the women of the Khaimete remain sterile, but the political situation has not devolved into further war.  Balasar Gice is still an advisor to Otah, now emperor, and together they attempt to find a way to bring the social situation between the two lands into a more defined and peaceful state.  But a lot of hostility obstructing their efforts, remains.  Cultural prejudices fuel a hatred that prevents Galt women from bearing children with Khai men and vice versa.  By appealing directly to the women of Galt—something never before done in their male dominated world, Otah hopes to build a social bridge.  Maati, however, takes a different route in seeking to right the wrongs he committed, and now trains women as poets, hoping that a women’s perspective on binding can heal the hurt of the land.  Enmity against all of these actions existing from top to bottom, the situation of the land remains as much in doubt as ever, war threatening to break out again.

Review of "An Autumn War" by Daniel Abraham

An Autumn War is the third book in Daniel Abraham’s Long Price Quartet, and when compared to the other three books, contains the most action and plot movement. The Galts, having made semi-successful inroads into the Khaimete in the previous books, now make a harder push with new tools on hand to get the job done. As such, several new characters are added, new areas of the map are explored, and a handful of major surprises are sprung on readers, keeping suspense high. But is the novel an improvement on the series? Some will argue yes, others, no.

An Autumn War picks up matters roughly fifteen years after the events of A Betrayal in Winter. The story opens with a weary Galt general, Balasar Gice, returning to his homeland after having successfully stolen several Khai books of andat lore and philosophy. Capturing a rogue poet several years later, they hope to create an andat of their own that will aid their takeover of the Khaimete. Otah is still Khai Machi, and he and Kiyan now have two children, the headstrong girl, Eiah, and sickly son, Kanat. Maati has remained in Machi as an assistant to Cehmai and is still performing his own research how to capture an andat. But his work is interrupted one day with the arrival of he and Otah’s former lover, Liat, and their son, Nayit. Major surprises appearing every fifty pages or so, the Galt’s advance on the Khaimete is full of suspense and concludes in major scene that will satisfy all who’ve thought the series was soft thus far.

Review of "A Betrayal in Winter" by Daniel Abraham

A Betrayal in Winter picks up events in the Khaimete 15 years after A Shadow in Summer.  Otah is a courier and once again living under the name Itani.  Maati, having failed to uphold his duties in the first novel, has spent the years living in shame under the roof of the Dai-kvo, studying bits of lore and avoiding the public eye.  Events quickly escalate, however.  The Khai Machi, the father who exiled Otah, is dying and his recognized sons have begun the rounds of fratricide that decide who will ascend the throne.  One son dying in mysterious circumstances beyond simple family feud, Maati is sent by the Dai-kvo to investigate the murder under the guise of a scholar.  The turmoil that erupts from this event, however, may have larger consequences for the Machi and Khaimete than either Maati or Otah are prepared to handle.

Abraham introduces some interesting new characters in A Betrayal in Winter.  Like Saraykeht, the city of Machi has its own poet and andat, Cehmai and Stone-Made-Soft, whose skills keep the mines, foundries, and blacksmiths busy with metals and jewels.  Cehmai much younger and of sounder mind and body than Heshai, he maintains a stable degree of control over his andat.  Threatening to distract him from his duties, however, is the only daughter of House Machi: the ambitious Idaan.  Secretly coveting the throne for herself in a land where women claim no rights to power, Idaan plots and schemes in a devious manner toward realizing her goals.  Events focused almost entirely in the city of Machi, an assortment of other important secondary characters appear to fill out the story.  Emotional content once again the focus, Abraham continues giving these characters a fair shake when it comes to presenting them realistically (albeit it at times melodramatically), the facet which is the strength of the series.

Review of "A Shadow in Summer" by Daniel Abraham

It’s 2012 and the fantasy market is showing every sign of saturation.  Riding on the coattails of the success of The Lord of the Rings films, George R.R.Martin’s post-Tolkien visions of medieval fantasy, Harry Potter, and the Twilight saga, the number of unheard of authors writing about wizards, urban vampires, dragons, spells, the paranormal, and all other manner of supernatural is unprecedented.  And, as is to be expected when examining such an output of work, the majority has either one or both feet squarely in the domain of derivative.  Imitation not a surefire guarantee of success, it’s nevertheless a good enough opportunity that writers and publishers alike are willing to take the chance.   This is what makes Daniel Abraham’s Long Price Quartet, with its feet on a fantasy island of its own, a welcome breath of air.

A Shadow in Summer is the first volume in the series.  The story of two young men, Otah and Maati, the former rejects the ways of the institution they are raised in and chooses to make his own way in the real world while the latter subjects himself to the ways of their order, as strict as they may be, for a chance at controlling an andat.  Like a genie in a bottle, an andat is a spirit conjured by a poet that is capable of performing one magical function.  Once enslaved, an andat must perform a poet’s bidding, which in the novel’s case, is to remove the yet-alive from any medium, e.g. seeds from cotton or unborn babies from women.  As mundane a talent as this seems, the setting of the novel, the city Saraykheht, prospers mightily from the andat’s efforts, the textile industry making the region rich beyond comparison and the poet and andat a prize to be protected.  The neighboring country Galt, jealous of the city’s wealth and position, seeks to intervene by killing the poet, and subsequently the andat.  Maati next in line to take power over the andat and Otah a laborer in the city’s bustling clothe warehouses, each find themselves caught up in Galt’s plot in ways they never imagined.

Review of "The Other Wind" by Ursula Le Guin

At age 82, it’s safe to say (I think) that Ursula Le Guin will not be publishing additional books in the Earthsea Cycle.  Though this has been said before, the qualities of the last book to be published, The Other Wind, particularly the subtle and cathartic value of its denouement and the state in which the main characters are left, make the extension of the Cycle beyond six books unlikely.  Walking away on a high note, the Cycle is concluded in grand style.

Unlike the personal storylines of the original trilogy, The Other Wind sees the continuation of the pattern established by Tehanu and Tales from Earthsea: groups of characters take center stage rather than individuals.  All of the characters who have appeared in previous novels are drawn together.  Their purpose: to eradicate the larger ills plaguing the archipelago.  The dragons are uneasy and are disappearing to the west amidst internecine violence.  The dead in the dry land haunt the living in their dreams, begging for release.  And political tension are rising as the Kargish have sent a princess to Hardic lands with the intent of marrying her into the fold, uniting two old enemies.  

Le Guin resolving matters as only she can, interrelationships toward social harmony prove a more useful tool for solving the issues than magic and wizards in The Other Wind.  Another soft fantasy novel, she again defies the clichés of epic fantasy with her plot structure and mode of conflict.  Events arising and unfolding in realistic fashion that does not involve mammoth wars or wizardly duels, instead, diplomacy, understanding, and perennial wisdom save the day.  Moments of strong tension do exist, but they are the result of the social and political forces at play rather than the threat of imminent violence.  A man’s longing to escape his dreams and be with his wife; a king’s lack of willingness to take responsibility for his role; a woman’s fear she will be unable to perform the task set out for her, and a master’s pride in the face of tradition are just a few of the back stories causing the more overt threats to the archipelago.

While inter-cultural politics play a role in the novel, the fairy tale glass through which Le Guin presents the theme sometimes distracts from the seriousness of the scenes.  The message burning at the heart is meaningful, only the delivery lacks a certain maturity of tone, in turn reducing impact.  Given the overall import of the theme—its parallel to our own world affairs—a lot can be forgiven given the poignancy of the implications.

In the end, The Other Wind is a well rounded finale that resolves all of the major plotlines both in- and external to the novel.  Ged, Tenar, Arren, Tehanu, and a variety of other character story arcs receive treatment and are concluded not only in satisfactory fashion, but in ways that meet Le Guin’s literary goals.  The story subtle and concerned with social and political conflicts less discussed in fantasy, readers should thus expect a narrative more in line with the second half of the Earthsea Cycle rather than the original trilogy.  

(For those who have read the book and the Earthsea Cycle as a whole, you may be interested in reading a paper I wrote on its Daoist tenets and angles on contemporary theory called "Ursula Le Guin’s Earthsea Cycle: Paralleling Contemporary Theory with an Eye to the Past".  Part I is here and Part II, here.)  

(This review has also been posted at www.fantasyliterature.com)  

Review of "Tales from Earthsea" by Ursula Le Guin

In 1972 Ursula Le Guin completed The Farthest Shore and felt the Earthsea series was finished at three books.  However, in 1994 she published Tehanu:The Last Book of Earthsea in an attempt to revision the gender and social roles she’d laid out in that original trilogy.   Based on the title, this too was supposed to be the be-all, end-all.  Apparently not satisfying enough, 2001 saw Le Guin publishing two additional books in the Earthsea Cycle, The Other Wind and Tales from Earthsea, that both complement and redress the original books.  The former a novel that rounds out the entirety of Earthsea’s story into a nice whole, the latter is a collection of short stories that fills certain gaps Le Guin identified in Earthsea’s mythos.  The following is a loose breakdown of those stories.

“The Finder” – The opening story in the collection tells of the boy Otter, his imprisonment and escape, and subsequent joining of the Roke school of magic.  Not what is expected given the state of the school readers have become familiar with, Le Guin shows that education regarding wisdom and magic in Earthsea once had a different root.

“Darkrose & Diamond” is a short, simple tale of youth, lost love, and a person finding their way in life.  Traveling musicians and magic the motifs, Le Guin tells the story of a young man and the conflicts he has with an overbearing father.  A relatively light tale, thankfully Le Guin does not linger long on romantic elements, focusing instead on talent and the importance of understanding.

“The Bones of the Earth” – The shortest in the collection, it is the story of how Ogion saved Gont Town in his youth from an earthquake.  In addition to telling the real story behind the legends that have grown around the silent mage, the tale also tells of Ogion’s master and his training, proving there are different forces than nature to defy.

“On the High Marsh” is the story of a sick man wandering the wastelands of Semmel Island.  Suffering from fatigue and memory loss, the man knows only that he wants to help and heal.  He boards with a lonely family and offers what services he can to their inflicted livestock.  Given its themes of forgiveness and a new start, this may be the most emotionally impacting in the collection and is an excellent prelude to The Other Wind.

“Dragonfly” – Perhaps the least coherent story in the collection, “Dragonfly”, on top of being a sort of postscript to Tehanu, is the story of a young woman who becomes more than she is—or thought she was.  The symbolism inherent to In the tale’s conclusion slightly saccharine, not to mention the journey to that point overflowing with overt moralizing, the story nevertheless shows Le Guin walking the talk of her intentions to revision Earthsea from a feminist point of view.

“A Description of Earthsea” – Not a story, Le Guin offers a survey of the archipelago in demographic fashion.  Almost as if taken from her personal notes, the cultures, mages, history, dragons, islands, etc. are relayed in formal text that both summarizes what attentive readers already know, congealing the raw data of the setting and cultures into a single essay.

From the origins of the Roke school to the revelation of what happened to the Master Summoner in The Other Wind, Le Guin attempts to fill certain voids in the mythos of Cycle with Tales from Earthsea.  With the inclusion of thematic material like freedom of choice, gender equality, and the value of breaking from oppressive tradition, she likewise tries to bring into balance the qualities of theme in the Cycle as a whole.  Though not all the stories are award winners, they nevertheless have the desired effect: Earthsea becomes more multi-layered, and in turn relatable.  Recommended only for those who have read and loved the Cycle to date, including Tehanu.

(For those who have read the book and the Earthsea Cycle as a whole, you may be interested in reading a paper I wrote on its Daoist tenets and angles on contemporary theory called "Ursula Le Guin’s Earthsea Cycle: Paralleling Contemporary Theory with an Eye to the Past".  Part I is here and Part II, here.)  

(This review has also been posted at www.fantasyliterature.com) 

Review of "Tehanu" by Ursula Le Guin

Ursula Le Guin, upset at herself for the lack of feminist representation, decided to revisit her beloved Earthsea setting and write a new tale after 25 years away from the trilogy.  Tehanu the result, readers who loved the first three books should approach this, the fourth, with an open mind.  Feminism, particularly family values and inner strength, comprises the strongest subject matter of the novel, making for a read that requires an emotional understanding of character interaction, male and female alike, the excitement and entertainment moved to the background.

Tehanu opens with Tenar (of The Tombs of Atuan fame), now in middle-age and living a domestic life on the isle of Gont.  Children grown, her life takes a new direction upon the death of her husband and the discovery of an abused child left for dead in a fire outside her village.  Taking the child, named Tehanu, under her wing, Tenar decides to visit her old friend Ogion.  After a long walk over the mountain, the pair find they are needed for more than just social reasons at the old hermit’s home.  While caring for Ogion and his home in his final days, a special visitor arrives in a fashion that resolves one point of ambiguity from The Farthest Shore.  The visitor likewise in need of care, a new round of concerns—far different than those of her domestic life—arise, throwing Tenar’s life into a turmoil she thought she’d left behind. 

The first three books of Earthsea, while containing a variety of moral and personal themes, featured elements of the fantastic in parallel.  Dragons, magic, spells, Old Powers, and the like all played differing roles in the development of of Ged, Tenar, and Arren.  Tehanu, however, is entirely different.  The novel realist save three moments of the fantastic, Le Guin shifts the focus of the narrative drastically in the direction of group interaction, in particular the intra-development of her protagonists.  The lessons the characters learn prove that humans never stop growing older and wiser.  Tenar, for example, must come to terms with the fears and limitations imposed by her previous choices in life as well as position in society.  Tehanu, due to her abuse as a child and subsequent deformation, likewise faces a host of discrimination that must be overcome if she is to find harmony within herself.  The strength and support they gain from within and each other is the message of the novel.

Therefore, it should be written clearly that Tehanu is unlike the previous three books in the Cycle.  Readers expecting a story in line with the bildingsroman pattern will be disappointed.  Those who have matured with Le Guin, however, will find a wealth of value in the strong individual and family focus of the new narrative.  Without spoiling the story, drama and tension do exist, but on terms infrequently used in fantasy.  It is fantasy of the bucolic, fantasy of the individual, and most importantly, fantasy of the nuclear group, with the ultimate statement by Le Guin that family is the building block of society.  

Faults, well, there are moments in the story that Le Guin seems to be trying too desperately to make up for what she perceived as a lack of feminist viewpoints in the earlier novels.  The moralizing over-handed or drama melo’, at times the message of a scene is forced, hitting the reader like a hammer rather than a pillow.  Little subtlety to the narrative, thematic material strikes at times perhaps harder than necessary.

In the end, Tehanu is sure to cause a reaction.  Those who loved the original series for its supernatural elements or usage of standard fantasy tropes may be disappointed.  In defiance of fantasy cliché, Le Guin has penned a story with family and women’s issues at its heart, trying to balance the male-centric nature of the earlier three books.  Thus, those who enter the novel without expectation and have an awareness for the manner in which social relationships are paralleled with personal development will feel rewarded.  Due to the novel’s abstraction from the familiar Earthsea setting—story focus unlike anything the archipelago has yet seen—comparisons to other fantasy novels is difficult.  In fact, Le Guin herself thought the book would stand alone, and titled it Tehanu: The Last Book of Earthsea. However, the premise and purpose proved so fertile that she has since written two additional books, Tales of Earthsea and The Other Wind, rounding out the Cycle at six total.  

(For those who have read the book and the Earthsea Cycle as a whole, you may be interested in reading a paper I wrote on its Daoist tenets and angles on contemporary theory called "Ursula Le Guin’s Earthsea Cycle: Paralleling Contemporary Theory with an Eye to the Past".  Part I is here and Part II, here.)