Review of Ship of Magic by Robin Hobb

Robin Hobb's debut trilogy, The Farseer, is one of the most mixed bags I've ever encountered in a fantasy series. It starts good, gets better, then kills the momentum in a streeeeeeetched 700+ page conclusion. Good intentions, but incongruous execution. It didn't put me off Hobb, however. Something else did (more to come). But when the stars aligned, and I finally read Hobb's next offering, it had me asking: has a new arc of quality begun? Lets' look at Ship of Magic (1998).

Ship of Magic takes readers to a new location in Hobb's Realm of the Elderlings setting: the Pirate Isles. First book in a trilogy, it shifts away from kings, queens, wizards, dragons, and pseudo-Medieval villages, and moves toward pirates, treasure, slavery, sea serpents, plunder, trade, and port city ribaldry. It also anthropomorphizes calling ships “she”--making bowspirits of bowsprits. And it's a massive success. But I get ahead of myself.

Ship of Magic juggles multiple points of view in telling its lush tale, most of which are centered around the Vestrit family. Foremost is its headstrong daughter, Althea. A tomboy on the cusp of adulthood, she jumps and darts through the rigging of her family's ship, the Vivacia, biding her time til her beloved father passes and she can inherit the trading vessel. Her mother, Ronica, is trying to weather the storm of poor business and hold the family's estate together through clever bookkeeping. Wintrow is Althea's cousin. He is interested in the priesthood, but a demanding father forces him to take a position as deckmate. His younger sister Malta, thirteen going on twenty, attempts to express her looming adulthood in ways that are not always to the Vestrid's interest. And lastly is Kennit. Not a Vestrid, he is rather a clever, exacting pirate who looks to achieve the paradox of paradoxes: become pirate king, and in doing so tries to kidnap one of the liveships plying the waters of the Pirate Isles.

And it's correct to focus on character. Many times this blog criticizes writers for producing less than full characterization. Not so with Ship of Magic. The characters are living, breathing people. The “bad guys” are as realistic as any egocentric, controlling person you've known that you occasionally feel empathy for, and the “good guys” suffer for poor decisions, flaws, and other personality facets attempting to hijack their good intentions and attempts at self-actualization. They too are people you know. The plot is amazing, but the characters take center stage for realism.

Brace yourself if you want to read Ship of Magic. It's 800+ pages and pace begins glacial. Several early scenes extend themselves. But it's intentional. Hobb steadily reins in scene length as the gears of plot begin to mesh. The final 200 pages are a rush of twisting, surprising scenes that extend naturally (as opposed to being forced) from the foundation of story built to that point, making the reader forget all about the slow start. Narrative trajectory is an exponential curve for all the good reasons.

I don't often comment about audiobooks, but it is required here. On a couple of occasions I attempted to listen to the first audiobook version of Ship of Magic narrated by Anne Flosnik. The first attempt was Hmmm, ok, odd, something off with the voicing... And after fifteen more minutes I stopped, couldn't continue. Second attempt, a couple years later, was like Maybe I was in the wrong mood the first attempt? Maybe it will hit this time? No. Five minutes in I was reminded exactly why I stopped the first time. Flosnik is not the right voice for the story. Children's books seem more her bag. And so when a new version, narrated by Lucy Tregear, was released, I sampled it. Ahh, so much better. Exactly the voice needed... Tregear is superb. Thus, be careful if you are looking to invest in the audiobook. There are two wildly different versions.

In the end, Ship of Magic is a phenomenal work of epic fantasy rendered in modern voice. It's got the right ingredients in the right amounts in the right places. It's Game of Thrones on the seas with more emotional depth. It's spectacular imagination—sea serpents, pressganging, family drama, slavers, sword fights, and of course, pirates—organically integrated with plot. It's escalating story across a colorful tapestry that is constantly evolving without waffling or getting in its own way. I normally don't rave mindlessly, but this is a case where Hobb has thrown down the gauntlet for at least beginning one of the greatest fantasy series, ever. For those who are familiar with Speculiction, those words are not to be taken lightly. But due to Farseer, let's see how the remaining two books pan out.