[Review] The Demon King (Seven Realms #1), by Cinda Williams Chima

Although The Demon King isn't strictly Chima’s debut, it feels like it, as previous fantasy novels by Chima were set in our real world. This appeals to some, however the leap from the real-life set Heir series to the Seven Realms quartet feels like a first foray into a medieval-esque fantasy setting. The Demon King opens the quartet, followed by The Exiled Queen, The Gray Wolf Throne, and a fourth, currently unnamed novel.

The Demon King takes the reader to the Seven Realms, and to Fellsmarch; a queendom long ruled by women, and up to the Clan-inhabited Spirit Mountains. The Clans with their gentle, subtle magic, are at constant odds with the Wizards of the realm, whose deft, dynamic power offends. This great power, in the hands of a dangerous and reckless wizard, almost broke the world.

Nonetheless a fragile peace exists in the Fells: the Wizards are banned from the Spirit Mountains, and the Wizards—advisors to the queen in the shape of the Wizard Council—loathe the intervention of the camps in queendom affairs.

Further afield, despite the neighbouring lands’ princes warring between themselves upon their father’s death, the peace stretches to Oden’s Ford, the military training school, and Mystwerk House, the magic school.

That is until machinations from within the palace and council spill across the realm, spreading to the Spirit Mountains and filtering into the city and beyond. But there is never only one selfish scheme at play in a story; the Clans too harbour secrets that could change the course of magic and power.

Amidst the chaos stand two people, worlds apart, distanced by more than just status.

Ragged “Cuffs”

Han "Cuffs" Alister is a streetlord gone good, or he would be, if his past would leave him in peace. At just sixteen, Han's reputation precedes him; he's feared throughout the city and despite quitting the Raggers, he knows neither his old friends nor enemies will let him leave the rough trade that easily. And to make matters worse, when members of a rival gang start turning up dead, who gets the blame? Something strange is going down in the city, and Han’ll be damned if he gets the swing for it.

With a mother and little sister to care for, Han is tempted to return to his old ways when money runs dry and Mari starts getting sick. If he could, he’d pawn the silver braces he’s worn since he can remember—but they won’t come off, and his mother refuses to speak of them.

Instead, making odd money here and there from jobs that trickle in, Han takes solace in the Spirit Mountains, favouring the company of his friends Fire Dancer and Digging Bird to the gritty existence awaiting him in the city.

Demonai Princess

Fathered from a Demonai Clan royal in an arranged marriage, Raisa ana’Marianna has always been different: she’s hot-headed, determined and not at all the blushing flower her mother—Queen Marianna, monarch of the Fells— is content to be.

Determined to be a good queen, Raisa accepts she has a lot to learn, but refuses to believe the palace, pampered and cushioned, is where this education will blossom. Raisa wants to live, to learn and to become a strong queen. However with the natural tensions between the Clans in the Spirit Mountains and the Council of Wizards, Raisa herself is a tool for continued peace, as well as an asset towards tipping the scales of power. Raisa will soon realise she is a very powerful piece in a very dangerous game of magic, power and lies.

A gentle introduction

Whilst the title and the blurb hint that there will be the appearance of a “demon king”, the manner of which once broke the world, this instalment of the Seven Realms series grossly disappoints. The “revelation” of the Demon King’s identity is too late in the book for it to feel as though it was given an introduction at all, and readers might feel as though the story progresses with little attention to that side of the plot. It’s easy to forget when reading through that there is a great power lurking, and a man with the potential to wield it. The story revolves entirely around Han and Raisa and the relationships they forge with the supporting cast on either side.

Han’s story is that of his struggle to escape his rough past, as he grows closer to his Clan friend, Dancer, whilst eluding blame for murder and dodging persistent wizards demanding the return of an item in his possession.

 Raisa’s story sees her growing confidence in herself and her thirst for a real, worldly education. Disguised, she heads out into the city with her bodyguard and childhood friend, Amon. Trouble ensues when she and Han cross paths, and then proceeds to dissipate when they part ways.

A sleepy adventure

All said, not much actually happens in The Demon King: the world is explored, characters are built and machinations from all sides are set in motion by the end (some only at the very end). There are murders, dangers and secrets and yet the plot seems very sleepily delivered. It feels very “young adult”. Not necessarily a negative point, but the YA-crossover style does the novel few favours in helping it deliver a gripping story.

The story is good, but not enough happens. Too little of the book is spent gripping the reader, and far too much spent literally following Han around from the city to the mountains. It feels like Kvothe’s (The Name of the Wind) time in Tarbean delivered badly: where Patrick Rothfuss had the skill to keep the reader entertained merely with his writing, Chima doesn’t quite pass the bar, and where Kvothe’s day-to-day struggle in the city is entertaining, Han’s simply isn’t.

Why should you read this book?

Readers who appreciate most fantasy should give this a try. The Demon King succeeds in drawing you into the lives of the characters, and if you like reading a good story with decent writing, and a “slice-of-life” approach as the world and writer find their feet, then give Han and Raisa a try. 

[Writing] Writing with Depression (aka: Why My Books Aren't Finished)

After Scott Lynch (author of The Gentleman Bastard sequence) posted about depression earlier this week over on his Live Journal, I thought it was a good opportunity to describe how depression affects an aspiring writer’s life and work. Mainly the work.

I’m twenty-something, I’ve studied for degrees at Bachelor and Masters levels, and I’m also writing a trilogy. Or would be...if I wasn’t still stalling on the first book. I say “stalling”: this doesn’t mean I don’t know what’s in the book—hell, I know what’s in the trilogy and the trilogy after that, and so on and so forth. Basically, it’s not that I don’t know what to, or how to write, on the contrary. I know precisely how to do both, and I get irked if I don’t manage to write in a day.

I am a writer; if I do not write, I start to develop sociopathic tendencies. Alright, that last part was an exaggeration. Either way, I get very, very cranky if my mood prevents me from writing.

And here’s where we get to the “mood” part.

I am depressed. It’s lot better than it was when studying for my MA, when I essentially took up the role of a well-dressed zombie, shambling about the house daily, hardly doing anything but staring meaningfully at an open blank page, almost hoping my novels would just splurge themselves onto the awaiting spaces. In fact, I tried this for two years, whilst plodding along with my postgraduate studies, working on trite nonsense dressing itself up as science-fiction, but in plain enough clothes to pass as “normal fiction” for the genre-hating lecturers at my university.

I got precious little done, in the end. Oh, I might have gotten a Masters Degree, but who’s counting that? Certainly not me.

Now?

Things are better.

Marginally.

 I don’t think depression ever goes away, I merely think we learn how to cope with it. Coping mechanisms are what enable us to actually plod the hell on, and take a moment and think “right, I’m sitting here like a zombie; I’m frustrated and upset—oh! It’s a blip, that’s what it is”.

Unsurprisingly—yet it took me some time to actually realise it—my mechanism is reading. I’ve been reading fantasy for years, however, it’s only in the last two years I have been eating books. I’ve found that when I read, I can write, and when I can write; I’m happier (happy, some days).

It seemed as good a time as any to blog about this, because I really am getting better: it’s not as hard as it used to be, and once you identify triggers and the pitfalls of your own moods, you can begin to overcome the depression on a level you previously never could. So, I can pretty much understand everything Lynch talks about in his blog. Not all depression is the same, but, I think we can at least understand each other a little.

Depression is the single reason I am plodding through The White War; the first book in my trilogy. (Well, that and the reasons discussed in a previous post.) It’s coming along, now, and the whole series is planned out: everything is merely waiting to be written. It’s frustrating, really, that my head and plans are so far ahead of my fingers on the keyboard. 

Frustrating as it is, there’s little point in forcing or rushing things: it’ll merely disrupt whatever progress I’ve made through my depression. So, instead, you have to work day-to-day. It’s awkwardly annoying for a control freak like me, but, it’s all I have. (And it appears to be working.)

In essence, I’ve given myself a very harsh deadline for The White War: I won’t say when it is, but, by hook or by crook, it will be done by this date. Then I have the joy of beginning on The Black Rebellion. Being a writer is fun, isn’t it?

I’m hoping for a productive summer; I’m hoping to make a lot of progress both with my writing, and with my depression.

And one can but hope. 

[News] The David Gemmell Legend Awards (2011 3rd Annual)

The David Gemmell Legend Awards were held this Friday gone, and whilst I didn't have the pleasure or honour of attending them—next year!—I wanted to blog about them nonetheless.

The DGLA might be a pretty new thing (the 2011 awards are the 3^rd run) but that’s part of their charm. At the heart of the DGLA is a simple, manifesto, if you will:

§  Raise public awareness of the Fantasy genre

§  Celebrate the history and cultural importance of Fantasy literature

§  Appreciate & reward excellence in the field

§  Commemorate the legacy of David Andrew Gemmell and his contribution to the Fantasy genre.

That aside, they’re also a pretty exciting set of awards. Aside from the Legend award itself—awarded for Best Novel—are the Morningstar and Ravenheart awards for Best Debut and Best Cover. The tickets for the awards—held at London’s Magic Circle venue—are a mere £20 (perhaps a smidgeon more next year) and therefore are an absolute steal. 

This year, the finalists looked something like this:

LEGEND AWARD FOR BEST FANTASY NOVEL

BRETT, Peter V - The Desert Spear (Voyager)
HEITZ, Markus - The War of the Dwarves (Orbit UK/US)
JORDAN, Robert and SANDERSON, Brandon - Wheel of Time: Towers of Midnight (Orbit UK/Tor US)
PEVEL, Pierre - The Alchemist in the Shadows (Gollancz)
SANDERSON, Brandon - The Way of Kings (Gollancz/Tor US)  (WINNER)
WEEKS, Brent - The Black Prism (Orbit UK/US)

MORNINGSTAR AWARD FOR BEST DEBUT

CHARLTON, Blake - Spellwright (Tor US)   
HINKS, Darius - Warrior Priest (The Black Library)   (WINNER)
JEMISIN, N.K. - The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms (Orbit UK/US)   
PEHOV, Alexey - Shadow Prowler (Tor US)   
VICTORIA, Mary - Tymon’s Flight (HarperCollins Australia)

RAVENHEART AWARD FOR BEST COVER

EINARSDOTTIR, Olof Erla - Power & Majesty  (WINNER)
LOCKWOOD, Todd - The Ragged Man (Pyr)
NIELSEN, Cliff - The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms
SULLIVAN, Jon - Shadow King (The Black Library)
VICTORIA, Frank - Tymon’s Flight (HarperCollins Australia)

The winners of each category are emboldened, highlighted, and otherwise made to look pretty in the lists above. Honestly, I was rooting for Blake Charlton's Spellwright to win the Morningstar, and Brent Weeks' The Black Prism for the Legend award itself. As for the Ravenheart, I'll be honest: the winner, by far (and yes, I did vote!) should have been the art for The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms. It's a beautiful, stunning cover. A few people have voiced their disbelief at what actually won, and I don't blame them, considering what else was nominated. Still, credit to who won.

The full lists are available on the DGLA website.  

[Review] The Book of Transformations (Legends of the Red Sun #3), by Mark Charan Newton

The penultimate book of the Legends of the Red Sun series, by Mark Charan Newton—The Book of Transformations—is set to make the same kind of waves as the previous two instalments, but in entirely different areas. Whilst Newton’s work still exhibits a subtle political flavour and raises questions about life, humanity and the world view, The Book of Transformations delves even deeper than his previous work, boldly addressing issues that are too often ignored.

Firstly, though, I’ll start by saying just how much more fun than the other two books The Book of Transformations is: whilst Nights of Villjamur rocked that “city noir” vibe, tossing in mystery and political machinations, and City of Ruin brought to the table all the tension and atmosphere of a ruined and corrupt city and its inner cogs, readying to face the onslaught of an advancing war, The Book of Transformations brings superheroes to the table.

Fitting, really, that with a summer of comic-book adapted movies ahead, we should be treated to a very new kind of fantasy. It’s been said before that new genre labels may well need to be created for Newton’s work, and this latest offering does nothing to quieten that thought. Describing The Book of Transformations as “superhero fantasy” perfectly conveys the flavour of the book: a team of super-human citizens of Villjamur become the blurb-mentioned Villjamur Knights.

But, as this is Newton we’re talking about, there is so much more.

It’s no secret that Newton decided to write about a transsexual lead. There was much speculation (alright…I know I speculated) as to which “way” the transsexual lead would be changing. I got what I hoped for: Lan is an MtF transsexual. She essentially used to be a man. She now is not a man. It’s as simple as that. (And it really is that simple.) I hoped it would be this sort of change, for two reasons: 1) because the notion of a woman binding her chest and passing herself as a man is a little too close to cliché in the realms of fantasy literature (I believe there’s even a Terry Pratchett joke about this in one of his novels, where a whole regiment turns out to be women in disguise?), and 2) because it would be far, far more interesting to read about.

Simply put, Lan was one of my favourite characters. Not only was she fascinating, but she was also exceedingly normal. That was the point. Newton had to force the issue that Lan is a normal character, and he does this remarkably well. Her transition features briefly, and following this, Lan is Lan. Her change is not the focus of the story. It’s not important. What is important is her new life and her role in the events transpiring in the city—a city facing destruction from inside and out.

Following the loss of Rumex Jeryd in Villiren, Investigator Fulcrom takes up the Inquisitor medallion for this instalment. His role in The Book of Transformations is a pivotal one, as much of the plot unfolds around him and his actions. Placed in an awkward position of direct service to the Emperor—the same Emperor he knows to be corrupt, and responsible for the wrongful arrest and subsequent fleeing of the Empress Rika—Fulcrom must conduct himself carefully under the order of a man he knows to be untrustworthy and excessively ruthless. In addition, the freshly formed and enhanced Villjamur Knights are placed under his jurisdiction. The Emperor expects results, and if these are not produced, Fulcrom’s life may well be forfeit.

At the heart of The Book of Transformations is change: Villjamur is changing; characters undergo changes; the world itself it set to change, should the wishes of one fugitive priest come to pass; the pressure of power weighs heavily; and forces from other worlds set the game-pieces in play, preparing for something even bigger than war.

As a standalone novel, The Book of Transformations works better than Nights of Villjamur, or City of Ruin, neither of which I think work as well independently. Of course, being part of a series, there are strands which link all three books. However, there are more new plot points and characters introduced here, and the way in which the story returns to Villjamur simply flows well enough to be considered in isolation.

Still, as I’ve maintained throughout, the books work far better as a series.

As a whole, the Legends of the Red Sun series becomes more powerful with each book. Showcasing science-fiction, science-fantasy, and ‘new weird’ as well as classic fantasy ideas, the final book is shaping up to be something entirely unique again. The way in which the war between the two factions revealed in City of Ruin is developing very much reminds me of the Vorlon-Shadow war in Babylon 5: this isn’t a bad thing, as the series is my favourite science-fiction series of all time, and as well as being politically and philosophically deep, it was incredibly original and boasted unique methods of storytelling.

Much like Legends of the Red Sun.

The Book of Transformations isn’t my favourite of the series—entirely because I am an unashamedly Brynd Lathraea fanboy and he’s obviously absent, busy in Villiren as he is—but it is definitely my second favourite. It’s an extremely fun and exciting read, filled with all the political awareness you expect from Newton. In fact, The Book of Transformations is one of the most thrilling, fun books you’ll read this summer: its excellence is surpassed only by its sheer scope and imagination. Once again, Villjamur comes to life in the pages of this book.

A winner. Read it.

5/5

[Review] City of Ruin (Legends of the Red Sun #2), by Mark Charan Newton

Following the thrilling first instalment of the Legends of the Red Sun series, Mark Charan Newton presents us with a second adventure. Laced with all the subtle politics of Nights of Villjamur, alongside an even defter approach to the “new weird”, City of Ruin is an exciting, thought-provoking, and extremely politically relevant continuation of the series.

Away from Villjamur, we are taken to the city of Villiren: a city of gangs, corruption and the bizarre—a city soon to be on the front lines of a terrible and imminent war. Brynd Lathraea—commander of the Night Guard—takes centre stage, and it is around him the events unfold. Inspector 

Jeryd 

returns, having fled Villjamur after uncovering plans for the mass murder of hundreds of the refugees clamouring at the city walls, and endeavours to make a difference in a city even darker than Villjamur.

As war advances, Brynd must prepare both a militant force and fortify the city as well as possible in what time is given. With a corrupt Portreeve and violent underworld gangs, the task will be difficult—especially when he must liaise with Malum, a cleverly presented character who offers an original spin on a classic horror archetype, whose underground and criminal reputation controls enough muscle to help sway the tides in the coming war.

Malum has his own agenda—as do all of the characters—and whilst he isn’t especially villainous, he becomes an antagonist at times through his actions—especially his treatment and nature towards Brynd. He adheres entirely to his own views and refuses to be swayed by any tide. Instead, with a troubled private life, and difficulties of his own, Malum remains an angst-fuelled, strong character who provides glimpses into an extremely masculine mentality, and yet, beneath the surface Newton shows a sad core, afflicted by both his past and present. It’s a suggestion as to what lies beneath an overtly masculine (and often homophobic) façade.

With hints of external blackmail, and his own Night Guards’ individual loyalties called into question, Brynd must tread carefully as he attempts to protect Villiren. Then, when a member of the Night Guard goes missing, Brynd is forced to call upon the Inquisition—upon Inspector Jeryd.

With Jeryd comes the noir: throughout Nights of Villjamur he served as a gritty, darker and moodier counterpart to much of the cast, and although his spirits lift here and there—largely thanks to a reunion with his wife and a rekindling of their relationship—his oddly melancholic determination coupled with his refreshed role as an investigator keeps the noir atmosphere fresh and present.

Jeryd and his new aide, Nanzi, must uncover the details behind bizarre murders, and scattered glimpses here and there of an extremely large arachnid, which supposedly moves through the darkness of Villiren, its motives unknown and its actions untraceable.  

Loaded with subtle feminine strength, Newton has created the strong female presence he felt Nights of Villjamur lacked. Nanzi has a strong role of her own, but for her part, she becomes the suggestion that a woman can be both dependant on, and independent from a man. Nanzi’s subplot takes City of Ruin deep into the “new weird”, and although elements surrounding her did not work entirely for me, what Newton attempted as a character was a success.

As we came to expect from Newton following Nights of Villjamur, the book is loaded with politics. The most awkward and difficult of these is a radical new solution to food shortages. It is a sharp shock to the system and it irks the reader—which is exactly what it intended. Nanzi’s involvement at the behest of the man upon whom she relies further demonstrates the idea of a strong woman, acting on her own.

More gripping, is the growing homophobic atmosphere.

Malum, along with a member of the Night Guard—his actions fuelled further by a member of the church—demonstrate strong homophobia, to the point where murder and irradiation is the only option for these “wrongdoers”. It’s very clever of Newton, to further develop these ideas in the second instalment, after the reader has grown attached to Brynd, regardless of his skin colour (he’s an albino) or who he takes to bed.

That, whilst a city faces war, individuals would rather dispose of their best hope for the salvation of their city based on his sexual preference, is poignantly allegoric of issues regarding gender and sexuality in our world, and thus a clever play by Newton.

Whilst we do revisit those who fled Villjamur at the close of Nights, what interests most about Randur and the Jamur girls in this novel, is who they meet. A strange encounter leads onto a journey to Villiren in order to help the city, whilst the “woman” they meet begins to slowly explain the nature of current events in their world—knowledge she has attained and brought from her world. She may well just hold information that could give Brynd what he needs to save Villiren.

Having let the confines of Villjamur, we glimpse Newton’s world up close, and though much of the story does take place in Villiren, we see the outside starkly during Randur’s journey to the city. The world is more fleshed, deeper, and just as well-crafted as the city of Villjamur was, demonstrating Newton’s excellent world-building prowess.

The prose is just as slick, descriptive and smooth as the first book and the pacing is seamless: there is always something happening, all pressed by the urgency the ice age brings with it.

Whilst I missed the streets of Villjamur—and will be excited to return to them in The Book of Transformations—the streets of Villiren are just as dark and interesting—perhaps, with what stalks them, darker.

City of Ruin is a slick, engaging fantasy that borders on—at times—“new weird” and even speculative science fiction. It is a well-constructed and relevant read. It’s also a great deal of fun, and will merely whet the appetite for the third book, penultimate novel. Brilliant, outstanding, and imaginative. 

5/5

[Review] Blood of Elves, by Andrzej Sapkowski

Although Blood of Elves is technically the first book in the Witcher saga, it follows on a series of short stories that Sapkowski wrote for the Fantastyka magazine in Poland. 

They were later regrouped together with a framing story in The Last Wish. Blood of Elves however, does not pick up where The Last Wish left and is essentially a stand-alone novel. However, understanding some minor plot details—such as the Law of Surprise, and Geralt’s involvement with Ciri—requires the prior knowledge supplied by The Last Wish.

Blood of Elves starts by introducing us to the underlying plot of the novel; the kingdom of Cintra has been attacked by the Nilfgaard empire, Queen Calanthe is dead and the only survivor of that terrible night is Cirilla—Ciri for short—‘the lion cub of Cintra’. Whether by chance or fate she was rescued from those who would see her dead by the Witcher Geralt; the very man who many years ago rescued her father.

But not all is as would appear and there is more to Ciri than meets the eye. She is not only a princess of Cintra but also a child of prophecy—although only some believe this to be true. She possesses a magic powerful enough to make even the great sorceress Yennefer envious. Geralt and the women that surround him, occasionally accompanied by the bard, Dandelion, will have to fight dark magicians and powers greater than they realise to keep the young girl safe.

Geralt is a Hunter. But he is no mere hunter. He is a Witcher; no longer an ordinary human, Geralt has been “enhanced”, “altered” by the concoctions he drinks, trained in ways only the Witchers understand. He is superhuman—stronger, faster and more resilient. Witchers are monster hunters, respected the world over for their great skill. Witchers are not to be taken lightly, however, or seen as kindly knights. After all, the rumours say that they lack the emotional capacity of their fellow humans. Furthermore, their moral compasses don’t always point north.

Geralt is a renowned hero; strong and dark with the capacity to crush whatever stands in between him and his goal. Whisper speaks also of his handsomeness—if only thanks to the flock of female hearts he’s been gifted—despite the large scar on his face.

As far as main characters go, Geralt doesn’t make for a friendly companion to the reader, he is taciturn and violent, and made strange and alien through the potions he takes, which sometimes change and mutate his body. But beyond that, there is also a man, scared of his emotions and failing at times to understand them. And it is exactly that hidden softness that stops Geralt from being nothing more than a killing machine.

The Lion Cub of Cintra—Ciri—first introduced at the age of nine, makes an interesting counterpart to Geralt. Ciri is every bit a wilful tomboy as she is a petulant princess. Due to the Law of Surprise, Ciri should have belonged to Geralt, and subsequently been in his possession, when she turned six but, due to Ciri’s grandmother’s—Queen Calanthe—intervention, she stayed in Cintra following the death of her parents.

Ciri, however, wanted to go with Geralt, although he turned her down, citing her gender as his reason. Women are not fit to be Witchers. But when Cintra falls, Ciri permanently joins Geralt on his journeys.

For all her youth and, at times, petulance, Ciri is strong girl with a strong magical potential buried deep within her that threatens to burst out at any given moment. She sees Geralt much like a father and develops semi-familial bonds with a lot of the other women who surround the Witcher.

Throughout the book, many of Geralt’s female companions join, aiding him with the task of both tutoring and protecting Ciri.

First we meet Triss Merigold, redheaded sorceress and victim of unrequited love, for the Witcher seems emotionally sealed to her advances. Despite this, she spends much of her time casually flirting with him whilst she protects Ciri from the Witcher’s potions and helps her learn magic of a very different kind from the Signs the Witchers wanted to teach her.

Second is Nenneke, priestess of Melitele, and good friend of Geralt. Although her involvement is lesser than in The Last Wish, Nenneke holds an important, somewhat motherly role towards Ciri when it comes to her learning her power.

Last but not least is Yennefer, one of the most powerful sorceresses to live and Geralt’s only true love. Yennefer is a bitter character who often seems to shun Geralt despite it being well known that she shares his feelings. She can easily be seen as always angry and headstrong, sometimes to the point of being irritating as she seems incapable of listening to anyone’s counsel but her own.

Despite being a book clearly aimed at men, with its grisly monsters, bloody wars and particularly enchanting women, Blood of Elves lacks important male characters beyond Geralt. Dandelion holds the role of the bard and as such tends to stay out of trouble unless it comes knocking on his door, and although his path regularly crosses Geralt and Yennefer’s, he never becomes truly involved in the plot.

Then we have the Witchers living at Kaer Morhen—the Witcher’s headquarters—who serve mainly as padding in the story, giving Geralt and Ciri essentially a blank base of operations, without any sub-plots being spawned from the lives and interactions of the other Witchers. Even Vesemir, the oldest of them all, seems to bear little relevance to the plot and lacks any real development as a character. The Witchers at Kaer Morhen are as bricks and mortar as the estate itself.

The other men Sapkowski introduces are all evil, either working for themselves or merely tools of concealed enemies, intent on one thing and one thing only: killing Ciri.

Blood of Elves proves to be a very clear translation which seems to carry through the author’s swift but efficient style. He doesn’t waste time on details and prefers to introduce his characters in brief but efficient descriptions. There is a certain lack of description of the world around the characters and it is easy to get confused as to what the locations the protagonists are interacting with are like. It can feel as though you’re standing in a black, white and greyscale world, with no idea as to where you’re standing. The world is, unfortunately, blank.

Sapkowski’s true strength is demonstrated through his combat. Geralt does not fight like a normal human and Sapkowski captures perfectly, in an often blow-for-blow account of the fights. It’s a rush of adrenaline for the reader and definitely one of the points that make this book the well-paced, exciting ride that is it.

One of the greatest problems I had with Blood of Elves was that Sapkowski doesn’t give us a map; there is nothing for the reader to refer to as names of countries, cities and empires are flung about casually on the page as though the reader should have intrinsic knowledge of the world.

But despite the presence of elves, dwarves and other familiar fantasy creatures, Sapkowski’s world is foreign to a non-Polish reader as it includes a lot of reference to Polish folklore and old legends. Beyond that, Sapkowski’s world is rich in political intrigue that constantly are weaved within the main strands of the plot and can lead to a high level of confusion when the lack of map means the reader has no concept of where anything is in relation to anything else. This lack of worldbuilding leaves the reader suspecting that they are standing on a stage, in front of various cardboard backdrops.

Why should you read this book?

Blood of Elves is a gritty bit of fantasy with a dash of political intrigue, and human experimentation and enhancement that border on genome mutations. A lot of things happen, fast, and for any reader who enjoys a fast paced book packed with action and adventure, Blood of Elves will fit the bill just right.

But it’s also more than just that; Blood of Elves is also a story of people, of how they are brought together and of how it affects them. It’s a tale of reconstructed families doing their best to protect each other.

Blood of Elves is for any fantasy addict who is looking for something a bit different, a mixture of grit with an inlay of subtle philosophy about the world and who we are.

3/5

[Review] The Light of Burning Shadows (Iron Elves #2), Chris Evans

The second instalment of Evans’ Iron Elves (you can read my review of the first, A Darkness Forged in Fire over at The Ranting Dragon) sees him further explore the world he created in the first of the trilogy, taking the story to an entirely different geographical region, and push the concept and use of magic in his setting and plot.

His characters not only grow and evolve as people, but as instruments of the plotline, too, which progresses to a deeper level in this second sitting, paving the way for the third and final instalment—Ashes of a Black Frost—later this year (2011).

Konowa Swift Dragon—formerly banished, then reinstated to lead (under royal supervision) the Iron Elves—has a problem. Several problems, in fact.  With another star on the horizon, and a rising shadow that threatens to destroy the Empire and everything else that stands in its path, the Iron Elves had better get marching.

Forced by circumstance, Konowa adds his father and mother—formerly a shape-changing squirrel, and powerful witch respectively—to the company he must travel with. Insomuch as his father is tolerable, his mother’s constant ‘motherness’ is wearing him to the nerve. As if one controlling female wasn’t enough, his decisions and actions are constantly questioned by the closest thing he’s had to a ‘love interest’ in years, in the shape of another witch—Visyna—whose tongue bites deeper than he’d like to admit.

With two female witches flanking him, it’s little surprise that Konowa could do without the Queen’s reporter, Rallie, still dogging his regiment’s steps. She’s supposedly there to report all that transpires back to Her Majesty, but of course, even the Major knows he needs the mysterious old woman. Her memory about her own past and age is as sketchy as the magically imbued drawings she produces in times of need, and her wisdom and advice might grate, added to the constant tirades from the other two witches, but Rallie’s proven she’s twice as competent as any of Konowa’s “Iron Elves.”

Adding insult to injury, his superior in the regiment he used to head is an adventuring princeling, still focussed more on adding artefacts and knowledge to his collection, than defeating the dark evil spreading across the land. With Prince Tykkin comes a higher station, and having ventured to the very desert lands his original Iron Elves were banished to, Konowa is less than pleased having to play politics. He should be out there, hunting the Shadow Monarch down.

Although that in itself is easier said than done, when Konowa himself still feels her power, senses her call. The acorn his father stole from her mountain has become both a point of power and comfort; with it, he believes he’s able to use the power imbued in him by being born with her mark—his shorn-off black ear tip—but control it, rather than succumb to it.

With the Shadow Monarch’s power spreading, along with her black forest, and with the curse hanging over the regiment’s collective head, time is of the essence to find the original Iron Elves before they fall into the hands of their enemy. The Major knows to hope is futile, yet deep down he hopes once recovered, the elves he used to fight with will rejoin his ranks.

But if Kritton is anything to go by, when they find the elves, they’d probably sooner stick him with a bayonet, than look at him.

                      

A further complication arises within Konowa’s own ranks. Since his brush with death, Ally has been acting strangely, and since their arrival in the desert, stranger yet. Touched deeper by both the curse, and something unexplained, Ally’s power is great. Plagued constantly by the pain in his leg, and warned of an evil in the desert, his mind is not where it should be—it is fading. But to where, even Alwyn doesn’t yet know. With the notion of burning shadows, and white hot pain in his mind, the deeper into the desert they venture, the more restless Ally becomes, until events come to a head, in a more terrifying fashion that anyone could imagine.

As an old evil—as old as the Shadow Monarch herself—is awakened from beneath the sand and monsters of a different sort thwart the regiment’s attempts against the Shadow Monarch, things begin to look bleak. Living as he has been, already somewhat detached from the regiment and the “Ally” he used to be, constantly drawn to the cursed Darkly Departed soldiers, Alwyn undergoes a devastatingly terrible transformation that sees him change forever. The old Alwyn might soon be gone.

Evans’ marching narrative was one of the best parts of A Darkness Forged in Fire, and although The Light of Burning Shadows sees the story move to a different continent, and spends more time travelling by boat than foot at first, the excellently paced narrative remains. The regiment is still “marching” onward, despite being afloat, and then stationary for a time. The relentless pace of the narrative mimics a regiment—constantly moving at a steady, yet determined pace. Obviously this can pose problems when battle descends, as the narrative must either break rhythm, or remain slow and cumbersome during fast-pace skirmishes. This is where Evans’ issue with ‘movement’ in battle likely comes from. Just as in A Darkness Forged in Fire, Evans struggles to convey clarity when describing actions and events during battle; characters don’t move as much as they should, and what actually happens can be confusing to discern. Often during longer battle scenes, re-reading entire paragraphs is necessary to truly understand what is happening. This is especially true of the use of magic.

As we saw in the first of the trilogy, Evans’ use of magic is somewhat unique, in that his antagonist possesses some of her power through a somewhat cancerous forest that spreads across the land. This, mixed with the new magic Evans introduces in the desert, married with Rallie, Visyna’s and his mother’s magic, becomes somewhat messy and strained. If all these magics could co-exist clearly and be understood next to one another, there would be no issue. This doesn’t happen; especially when in the thick of battle and more magics than in the final battle of a Dungeons & Dragons game are flying about. The descriptions and clarity of the black forests are not comprehensive enough for Evans to toss the new magic relevant to the desert, as well as all other characters’ magics into the fray.

Why should I read this book?

Because it’s an excellent follow-up to A Darkness Forged in Fire, and is a good step forward in the Iron Elves trilogy. It has its failings, yet none are detrimental enough to simply put the book down and walk away. True enough, this is somewhat of a let-down after the mesmerising start to the trilogy; it’s simply not as good, and the content—in places—crosses a little too close to cliché-land. All of this book’s problems are in the desert. It feels as though Evans’ got a little lost in his own plot, by introducing such a large plot point—another old magic—in the desert, whilst the regiment is merely searching for the previous Iron Elves. Understanding that the Iron Elves is to be a trilogy, and having read the synopsis for the third book—which seems to completely brush aside events of book two, retaining only what happens with Alwyn—it’s difficult to praise The Light of Burning Shadows as part of the series. The plot, issues and events in book one set the tone and the world, as well as the tone of things to come; for Evans’ to seemingly stray so far from the initial point of the trilogy seems a little distressing. Most of what made A Darkness Forged in Fire an excellent read, is missing here, replaced instead by clichéd monsters and a climax that—if not for the appearance of a dragonlike thing—would be better placed in The Mummy films. It just didn’t work for me.

That said, I did enjoy the book: the characters keep the reader there. Konowa, with all his imperfections and inner and outer conflicts keeps the reader glued to the page, wondering how he’ll overcome the Shadow Monarch. The regiment as a whole, with its unique and interesting characters, keeps the reader wondering what will happen to them, the cursed regiment. Characters and characterisation keeps the reader interested, and the very last page of the book does more to keep the reader glued to the trilogy than any other point of the book, rectifying some of the ‘damage’ done by the lack of clarity and awkward last battle.

Not fantastic, but perhaps a necessary step in the trilogy. The third, and final book, should invariably be much better.

3.5/5

[Review] Among Thieves (A Tale of the Kin) by Douglas Hulick

I’d heard a great deal about the book I’m reviewing today—I’d heard people say great things; interesting things; and even a few things I was unsure of, especially regarding a certain Amazon.co.uk blurb. However, I’m a sucker for books that everyone’s talking about—especially if they’re fantasy.

The first thing that strikes about Among Thieves: A tale of the Kin, is that Drothe is the bad guy—at least in part—and that whilst the reader should already be flagging him as a ruffian and a lowlife, already the intrigued reader is merely altering the bearings of their moral compass to fit.

Drothe is a Nose (those unfamiliar with this sort of street-talk can probably discern the nature of his work, but for those who’re purer in the fantasy they read, told in the first person, by Drothe himself, explanations of the more important aspects are helpfully included); a damn good nose, at that. From the get-go there are no illusions as to his nature, but despite his grey areas, Drothe instantly presents as a likeable, fun and downright awesome character.

Among Thieves is atmospheric above all else: the setting is artfully vague, but presents enough stock fantasy architecture to allow the reader to assimilate a view of the city. For me, Ildrecca (my own jury is still out on the pronunciation, as I’m seeing Italian double-c sounds here, assisted by the knowledge that Douglas Hulick totes a degree in Medieval History, and fences in the Italian style) is a warm, sandy—or muddy, or cobbled, it depends!—city with old air and older stone. A city constantly built, torn down, and rebuilt again, Ildrecca captures a warm, Southern European medieval vibe, whilst sprinkling in its own fantasy imaginings.

City-set fantasies draw me in far quicker than vast plains and valleys traversed on horseback, and I’d rather streets, than tracts: Ildrecca delivers here, and Hulick’s obvious talent brings the city to life within mere pages. Ildrecca is his city. Moreover, it is Drothe’s city, and as he guides us around, going about his life, we see, hear, smell and taste it firsthand.

The basic premise is that Drothe is Kin: a member of the criminal underworld, essentially preying on other Kin, occasionally the Rags, and finally, the Lighters (‘normal’ people who live in the ‘light’, instead of the ‘dark’ the Kin permeate). In addition, Drothe is looking for a relic—a pen, we find out in due course—and its acquisition is proving not only difficult, but appears to be involving him in something deeper and darker in nature. Relics are tricky things as it is—trinkets touched by one of the incarnations of the eternal emperor, highly valued and even higher risk—let alone a trinket that happens to contain blasphemous musings of a woman once close to the emperor, before he became eternal, before the practice of his endless reincarnation.

Drothe wouldn’t usually get involved—too high risk, too messy, and definitely out of a Nose’s league when there’re Degans, White Sashes and (worst of all) the Grey Princes of the Kin after the book—but choice isn’t always easily come by, and the Nose winds up finding himself light a few pounds of the luxury.  

Before long, the Nose realises that to stay alive in this game—let alone stay ahead—he’s going to have to insert himself right where he doesn’t want to be: in the thick of it. With an organisation, a secret family relation, and, whilst he’s at it, the entire Kin to protect, Drothe’s decision to play this dangerous game is not as much his own as his bravado will have you think.

With excellent pacing, mysterious relics and a handful of secret players who’ve not yet taken to the stage, let alone placed their markers, Drothe soon realises that he’ll not only be playing one side against the other, but might have to factor a few things he’s not so willing to gamble on in the stakes—friendship, loyalty, and despite himself, honour.

There may be no honour amongst thieves, but when it comes to Drothe, he clearly missed the memo.

Hulick’s debut is literally stunning: there’s nothing to fault. Friendships are handled superbly, and contrasted perfectly against his relationships with the fellow Kin he must use and abuse along the way. Drothe’s desperation, panic and sheer terror drive the plot onwards, and each chapter adds to the breathtakingly wide-reaching plot. Twists are delivered skilfully, whilst the overall plot is seamlessly joined, with the links between events and characters hidden beneath layer upon layer of smooth storytelling.

There is nothing in this book that doesn’t surprise or delight. Absolutely nothing.

Among Thieves should appeal to fans outside the genre, too: the city setting is almost­-historical, and although the story revolves around glimmer (magic), it’s not too far a stretch to liken it to the alchemical and historical occult ‘magic’ found in so many alternative-history settings—especially in Medieval Europe.

At the heart of Among Thieves lies a mystery: a great portion of the book is dedicated to unravelling it, before the various puzzles can be threaded and linked together. In part, it’s also a treasure hunt—the relic is treasure. It’s old, it’s valuable, and it’s been lost for centuries.

Everything in this book aims to please, and it delivers effortlessly.

Why should I read this book?

You should read this book, not because Brent Weeks called it an ‘unalloyed pleasure’, and not because praise for this book has been splashed all over the internet. Not even because Hulick’s fresh and exciting new talent has been likened to the debuts of both Rothfuss and Abercrombie—but rather, because Among Thieves might possibly be the best book you’ll read for some time.

Unique, excellent and delivering far more than promised by the blurb, Among Thieves is an absolute pleasure and adventure to read. Fans will relish the fantasy-mystery, whilst newcomers will drink up the atmosphere of a city that appears so familiar, so real, that they’ll see the genre with fresh eyes, and understand that where there’s magic, there doesn’t have to be dragon eggs, or monsters.

All in all, an absolutely wonderful book. 

5/5