Showing posts with label sword and sorcery. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sword and sorcery. Show all posts

Thursday, January 8, 2015

Review of Sea Kings of Mars and Otherworldly Stories by Leigh Brackett


As NASA’s Curiosity rover trundles about the surface of Mars today, another page turns on the glories of pulp science fiction.  Leigh Brackett’s vision of a land populated with humans and aliens, ancient cities and creatures, long-buried secrets and mysterious deserts fades a shade closer to pale as one desolate desert image after another is beamed back to Earth.  But there was a day when her works shone with the hope and possibility of life on the planets beyond Earth. Gollancz bringing together the best of these stories in one collection, Fantasy Masterwork’s Sea Kings of Mars and Otherworldly Stories is the imaginatively nostalgic look back to a time when the solar system held more possibilities.

The collection contains five novelettes, five novellas, one short story, and one novel.  Though organized chronologically by publishing date, little actually links the stories.  A few are set on Venus and a handful feature the character Eric John Stark, but the majority are the plights and travails, adventures and journeys of various men and women across the ancient Martian landscape.  All manner of the vividly fantastic and anachronistically technical emerging in their tales, the collection is by default science fantasy, but certainly the motifs and mindset of pulp fantasy fill the book’s cup.

Wednesday, December 10, 2014

Review of The Warlord of Mars by Edgar Rice Burroughs



Edgar Rice Burroughs genre milestone A Princess of Mars ended with the hero appropriately back on Earth where he’d begun his tale.  One plot line was left unresolved, but had the book not sold as well as it did, the reader could have walked away satisfied the circle was completed.  But with Dejah Thoris trapped in the First Born’s Temple of the Sun, a Martian year to go before she is to see the light of day again, the ending of The Gods of Mars is anything but complete.  With the red carpet laid out for a third installment, The Warlord of Mars follows upon The Gods of Mars, but, brings the tale of John Carter to a close, no loose ends.

And indeed, with Dejah Thoris trapped, it is up to her beloved John Carter to rescue her (for the millionth time) from the jaws of death.  Trailing a Thern and First Born into an underground cavern in the opening chapter, he learns of a secret entrance into the Temple of the Sun.  But worse yet, he learns the pair plot to kill Dejah Thoris before her allotted year is up.  Spurned to action with the ever-faithful Woola at his side, John Carter embarks on yet another rescue attempt (rolls eyes).  An extended chase that takes Carter to the North Pole, every color of man on Barsoom—red, black, white, yellow, and green—is eventually drawn into the plight.  Battles on ice, secret entrances, double-bluffs, new alliances, enemies turned friends—all of Barsoom intersects for the massive conclusion of the John Carter epic.

Review of The Gods of Mars by Edgar Rice Burroughs



A Princess of Mars (1912) by Edgar Rice Burroughs is one of the most over-the-top novels ever written.  Inspired by pulp and in turn inspiring pulp to this day, its heroic absurdity—ahem, sentimentality possesses a verve for storytelling that plumbs the depths of exaggerated and imaginative fiction like few other period works of such length. And once the train starts rolling, it’s tough to stop it.  The Gods of Mars (1914), sequel to A Princess of Mars, sets the dial to twelve for John Carter’s wild return to Barsoom.

Transported back to Earth amidst an oxygen crisis at the end of A Princess of Mars, John Carter never learned whether the woman he loved, Dejah Thoris, or the son they were waiting to hatch (hatch!!!) suffocated or not.  Praying to the sky above his New York home one night that he might return to know their fate, at the outset of The Gods of Mars John Carter once again finds his corporeal-self transported away from Earth.  Arriving in an unfamiliar land, he’s unsure whether he’s on Barsoom or not. Strange plant men assaulting him in an exotic landscape that is nothing like his memories of the red planet, it isn’t until he meets up with his old friend Tars Tarkas that the truth slowly unfolds: he has arrived in Dor, the land of the dead.  All manner of exotic adventure unraveling, Carter must fight through peril and danger to escape a land no Barsoomiam has ever escaped from to learn what has befallen his beloved Dejah Thoris and son in the ten years since he last set foot on Mars.

Thursday, March 28, 2013

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.

Wednesday, February 20, 2013

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.

Wednesday, January 30, 2013

Review of "Conan the Warrior" by Robert E. Howard



Thanks to Arnie, Conan the Barbarian is one of the most well-known characters of heroic fantasy in today's world.  A creation of Robert E. Howard in the 1930s, Conan, with his exotic adventures, sword fights, arcane wizardry, and buxom blondes in leggings and breastplates, has become not only the epitome of sword & sorcery, but a product of the times.  Though influencing a large amount of fantasy, from Joe Abercrombie’s Logen Ninefingers to Michael Moorcock’s Elric, Steven Erikson’s Karsa Orlong to Fritz Leiber’s Fafhrd, tales of the Cimmerian warrior nevertheless represent juvenile wish fulfillment in its most overt form, leaving most to balk.  Given that the quality of the writing is also extremely, extremely poor, there is little to recommend about the stories save nostalgia and cover art.

Conan the Warrior is a collection of three tales, all published toward the end of Howard’s short life.  The following is a brief summary of “Red Nails”, “Jewels of Gwahlur”, and “Beyond the Black River”.

“Red Nails” – Conan, and his unpredictable ally, Valeria, find themselves in an eerie city, danger and intrigue all around.  Wheels within wheels of plot unrolling themselves in this complex story, events shift unpredictably as the secrets of the roofed city are undone by the duo in one action-packed scene after another. 

Sunday, January 13, 2013

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.    

Wednesday, January 2, 2013

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.

Thursday, November 8, 2012

Review of "The First Book of Lankhmar" by Fritz Leiber



For a period of four decades, 1940s to the ‘80s, Fritz Leiber’s pair, Farfhrd and the Gray Mouser, were two of sword and sorcery’s most beloved creations.  Their adventures spanning more than 30 short stories, novelettes, novellas, and even a novel, Orion decided to publish the collection in two volumes for the ongoing Fantasy Masterworks series, The First and Second Book of Lankhmar.  

Fun and entertainment forever at the forefront, serious literature it is not.  Fafhrd a sentimental,Viking-esque warrior fighting far from home and the Gray Mouser a small but wily thief with more than one trick up his sleeve, the duo seem to continually find themselves in a scrape—the law, magicians, witches, and otherwise.  Rogues through and through, they would list thievery, vendettas, and mercenary work on their resumes if they ever tried to find jobs that didn’t place them in a new adventure every week.  And the city where they live, Lankhmar, doesn’t have any shortage of opportunities.  The foggy, scummy, magical, lantern lit, and decadent streets possessing a fun adventure around every corner, it doesn’t seem they’ll be switching professions anytime soon.

Monday, October 29, 2012

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. 

Tuesday, September 18, 2012

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.)

Saturday, October 8, 2011

Review of The Malazan Book of the Fallen by Steven Erikson

(Note that this review is for the entirety of the Malazan series-no spoilers.)

Thematic at so many levels, poignant to such a variety of societal issues, and so complex in size and structure – on top of being filled to the brim with action and magic - it’s difficult to begin describing Steven Erikson’s decade-long project The Malazan Book of the Fallen.  Literally and physically epic, whole forests were undoubtedly destroyed in printing the ten volumes of this completed series.  The result is that scope, depth, and world building have perhaps never seen and never will again see such a massive, sprawling story populated by such a variety of characters and cultures.  Fantasy literature has been redefined. 

The first book, Gardens of the Moon, sets the tone.  Thrown into events as they are happening, readers do not get any soft, fluffy background, slowly easing them into the world of Malazan.   And the series does not relent.  Though satisfying closures to individual storylines can be found, the last book, The Crippled God, finds the series ending as ongoing as it began.  Much the same as being dropped into the middle of Europe’s attempt to colonize the world and plucked out as the events of WWI draw to a close, Erikson has said that the overall effect is something like “We edge in to observe a slice of history, then, ten books later, we edge back out.”  Relative background filled in only as necessary, readers expecting easily accessible explanations as to why things are happening will immediately be put off.  Like our real world, little is spoon fed in Malazan.

Writing in such a mode begs the question: why should I read the series if it’s so complex?  Like the works of Gene Wolfe, the answer lies in the themes that are unveiled upon closer inspection.  While on the surface Malazan appears to have it all, action, comedy, romance, tragedy, the supernatural, etc., at a deeper level, more complex and poignant ideas exist.  For example, the name of the series comes from an idea Napoleon had to create a Book of the Fallen to honor all who died in the name of his cause, thus ensuring history did not forget them.  With this idea in mind, one of Erikson’s main goals is to bring foreground the lives of ordinary soldiers and the difficulties they have living subject to leaders whose interests are not always altruistic, as well as the uncertainty of living with war.  Unlike much of modern fantasy which tells the story of the hero – the undefeatable warrior championing justice – Malazan instead tells of the supporting cast, the little guys and the sacrifices they contribute to the overall effect.  Sticking with thematic content, the conflicts and bloodshed so visible in Malazan are not in fact nihilistic commentary on modern life, rather a key indicator of the precocity of life itself.  Those who read the series all the way to the end will be pleasantly surprised at the manner in which the themes of compassion, family, and love for friends are revealed both amongst and through the bloody battles and powerful displays of magic. 

Thus, in writing The Malazan Book of the Fallen, Erikson has pulled off the near impossible: a combination of Dungeons and Dragons with literary aspiration, emphasis on the latter as the series progresses.  As a result, those looking for fantasy entertainment with accessible storylines and rather typical heroic characters should read Abercrombie, Rothfuss, or Lynch.  For those looking for fantasy with depth and value, the rewards of sticking with this series – no matter how difficult it can sometimes be - are real.  (Check out the Malazan Empire forums for an idea of the fanbase and its devotion.)   Truly an investment, the series is open to numerous re-reads.  Ample room is available for gleaning details overlooked in previous sittings and wonder at the depth of the world created.  In fact, the more one allows themselves to melt into world of Malazan, the more the little treasures of wisdom and sheer humanity Erikson has planted reveals itself.  Tragedy and the fantastic have perhaps never been so well intertwined.  Recommended, but be warned the road is not always easy.

(For those who have read the series and are interested in further commentary, additional essays from this blog may be found here: Stepping Stones: The Ideas Bridging Malazan, and, A Slow Exhale: The Consistency of Malazan.)

Friday, September 16, 2011

Review of The Prince of Nothing Trilogy by R. Scott Bakker

Take the philosophical concept of the original Dune trilogy, sprinkle in some basic plot devices from The Lord of the Rings, and mix with a coherent system of magic, a handful of strong lead characters shaded in gray, wholly original races, cultures, and setting, and voila, you will have R. Scott Bakker’s Prince of Nothing series.  A lucid concoction, the trilogy holds no punches, leaving the reader wide-eyed for its brutal adherence to the realities of pre-industrial life.  No fuzzy hobbits picking flowers and discussing what variety of pipe tobacco they prefer, instead, Machiavellian scheming, ever-inflating egos, and pushes, risks, and clashes to obtain power are unveiled as ugly truths.  Underrated, the Prince of Nothing is one of the best epic fantasy series available today. 

Due to the immense scope of Bakker’s world, the series starts slow.  The turns of plot are measured in their reveal, and the scenes set with a view to the whole rather than being simple info dumps.  With patience, as storylines and character arcs build - from the groundwork of The Darkness that Comes Before, the bridge of The Warrior Prophet, to the final showdown of The Thousandfold Thought - readers gain a full understanding of the people, interests, and conditions of Bakker’s Earwa.  Schools and temples of magic war with another below the surface while kings and warriors duke it out for all to see, and all are unsure about the warrior-monk Kellhus's potential.

For those tired of fantasy authors stringing readers along with excellent plot build up only to close the series in a dissatisfying 25 pages, fear not; Bakker delivers.  The ending of the trilogy is conclusive and, most importantly, more grandiose than what one hopes it will be.  Heightening the climax is the involvement and transitory feelings one experiences in their regard for the main characters.  From loved to hated, loathed to pitied, the strong characterization likewise deserves notice for its integration with story.  Much rumination invested in making sure the puzzle pieces fit snugly together (Bakker has taken years to write the series), this is not just another fly-by-the-seat-of-the-pants fantasy series out to cash in on the current market.

Regarding character depiction, many reviewers have been critical of Bakker’s treatment of women.  And, I can understand the view, particularly in today's cultural climate.  It can be said that Bakker was trying to remain true to the times, and ok.  I would simply say that if the poor treatment of women offends you, do not read the series.  There are much worse authors out there, but whether you agree with his view or not, he at least has an agenda behind said scenes.  That for others will be worth hearing out.

The dialogue attentive, action paced constructively, and setting and the main characters having depth, these factors move The Prince of Nothing to vie with the other major works of epic fantasy on the market today.  Pushing it near the top is the focus with which Bakker writes.  From the first page onward, planning and structure are obvious, events falling naturally into place as character motivation dictates, and in turn, allowing the themes of power, paranoia, and virtue to rise to the surface.  Unlike Erikson, who perhaps conceals too much from the reader, or Jordan, who divulges too much, Bakker balances on the tightrope wonderfully, revealing his world in just enough chunks to pull the reader along, while at the same time expressing his literary objectives in a non-proselytizing fashion.  Though reviews of the series are divisive, for scope and content The Prince of Nothing truly deserves to be mentioned in the same breath as Erikson and Martin as the masters of modern fantasy.  

Saturday, September 3, 2011

Review of "Dark Moon" by David Gemmell

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

In writing reviews of fantasy, everybody makes mention of those derivative books of sword and sorcery which lack imagination and either borrow exclusively from previous works (think Terry Goodkind) or possess so many archetypes that the whole book becomes cliché (think the Dragonlance series).  Everybody knows these cardboard Conans and Gandalfs wielding battleaxes, wands, and uttering the worst one-liners published today.  But these comments about garbage fantasy are always directed to the “others”—someone else—never the work under review.  Nobody wants to step on any toes.

David Gemmell’s Dark Moon is pure genre fantasy.  This is one of the books everyone is indirectly referring to when they mention derivative fantasy.  Reptilian uni-mind creatures attack innocent people for no reason. Check.  A female fighter who acts and talks like a man.  Check.  Gouts of random magic within an undefined system.  Check.  Castle wall siege including tunneling.  Check.  And so on.  I read an interview with Gemmell who said something to the effect: “I don’t plan anything when I’m writing.  I just take an idea and run with it.”  Well, it shows in Dark Moon.  The story is a jumbled mess.  Too many things are packed in disorderly fashion into such a small book.  Ultimate evil cannibal bad guys have a sudden change of heart and promise to love everybody.  Aliens appear on the medieval scene to bring peace (yes,aliens!).  A man invents a catapult that didn’t exist (in a time of castles, swords and shields, go figure).  And all this rubbish does is bring heartache., because after all, the story began with such promise: the main character, a man at war with a demon trapped inside himself, tries to come to terms with who he is.  What better a premise to start a good fantasy novel?

In summary, if you’re already a lover of those books everyone refers to disparagingly—women warriors with impressive breasts, a young orphan boy becomes king,  dragons, dragons, dragons—then this book may be for you.   Otherwise, if you’re looking for a fantasy story that works within the genre but offers a new take, operates within a larger structure, has logical outcomes, as well as characters more human than wood, look elsewhere.  In the meantime, we need to find an author to take Gemmell’s premise and flesh it out into a real story.