Review of Winterbirth by Brian Ruckley

Different books provide different feelings—and I don't mean the emotions stories draw out of you. Passion project, arte nouveau, winging it, trying to earn a dime—each piece of writing provides a subjective feel as to its origin. Why did the writer choose to spend X days/months/years of their life putting this story to paper? With Brian Ruckley's Godless World trilogy, led off by the novel Winterbirth (2006), the answer seems: to see an idea that had been taking shape and building structure in the author's mind for years, to finally to bloom to life on the page for other readers to take advantage.

While technically epic fantasy, Winterbirth feels more akin to historical fiction. Playing out across a complex society set in a version of northern Britain, the clans battle for honor with a sense of realism that is more like Bernard Cornwell than Robert Jordan. George R.R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire is an extremely fair comparison (save that Ruckley has completed his series, and done so in consistent, contained fashion). The underlying motivations for each character, regardless which clan they fight for, feels proper. There initially seem good guys, bad guys, and those in between.  Indeed, there are a couple who never achieve status beyond caricature. But as the story progresses, most all feel in between—more human than the vast majority of epic fantasies on the market.

Set on a coastline highly reminiscent of Scotland, Winterbirth kicks off with all of the clans preparing for the holiday season. Winterbirth is their day marking the beginning of winter. But not all the clans are united in celebration. In the south, the Thane of Thanes puts a renegade clan leader in his place with the forced help of other clans' soldiers. Into this void an old enemy from the North jumps in, wrecking havoc on the festival goers. Partnering with the K'rynnin (a humanoid species who live like Native Americans), the Northerners lay a swathe of destruction through the clans. But that may not be their only contribution to the mayhem: in their midst is a young man with uncontrolled powers in the Shared, powers that many people shy away in fear of. His awakening may be the greatest threat everyone has faced yet.

And that is just the tip of the iceberg. Ruckley fills out what is below that surface with a rich cast of singular characters, and with just a few strokes gives places and scenes an identity the reader can remember. Thoughts and emotions are most often shown not told, allowing the most hardened of warriors to have a human side. The book is certainly not a A Song of Ice and Fire clone, but it has that approach, that breadth. Save the denser, and hence more complex world, I don't see how fans of one wouldn't be fans of the other.

If I had to praise one thing about the book, it would be the organic nature of the story. As mentioned in the intro, Ruckley seems to have had time to let his idea properly brew, for the pieces to fall into proper place, and everything feel natural. Yes, major events occur, battles are won and lost, character deaths do occur. But they always feel part of the story. The buzz word is grimdark, and Ruckley's book qualifies. But do not mistake this for the gotcha-fest that Abercrombie pulls on readers. Ruckley treats his readers with more intelligence.

I'm full of praise thus far, and to be honest I don't really have much negative to say about Winterbirth. Ruckley aims at quality entertainment in a well-built world with characters that have human motivations. And he succeeds. This is isn't so-called Literature, but it does bear much in common with the The Iliad—with a small splash of the fantastic.

In the end, I believe Ruckley was ahead of the grimdark curve. The term was still burgeoning, and the Game of Thrones show had yet to catch fire. It's thus possible that many readers who enjoy the sub-genre have no knowledge of the Godless World trilogy. It's worth a read. Ruckley remains honest to his world and characters throughout, never shying away from the natural instincts of people, for better and worse. There are moments of action and violence, but a Greek sense of tragedy remains the tone-setter. I know many a Homerian scholar just rolled their eyes, and I get it; there is no real history to link place and person. But it retains that feel, the ups and downs of battle and the heroes on all sides participating—even the war within people's hearts.