[Review] The Exiled Queen (Seven Realms #2), by Cinda Williams Chima

The second instalment of the Seven Realms quartet—The Exiled Queen—speeds up the sleepy plodding of the first book (The Demon King), kick starting a much pacier story with plot twists aplenty. Thankfully, it also retains the deep character development and attention that made The Demon King such an offering of ‘slice-of-life’ fantasy.

Our characters are on the move, each and every one of them, and their separate paths lead to one single place: the Academies. Mystwerk House for wizards, Oden’s Ford for soldiers; the full cast from Han Alister and his bitter rival Micah Bayar, to Raisa ana’Marianna and her childhood friend-come bodyguard, Amon find themselves in one central place. A place where their stories mesh, mingle and merge, shaping the plot and driving it forwards, sideways and sometimes around corners unseen without a mirror.

Han’s been forced into a bargain he’d rather refuse by the Clans; the very people he sought to trust. Raisa’s forced herself into protective exile, her identity a secret from all around her, save her bodyguard, who’s now more closely linked to her than she could imagine—yet still not close enough for the princess’ tastes.

Class is in session

Despite the main cast having enrolled at what is essentially either magic school, or military school, this is no Hogwarts set up. Mystwerk House schools natural born wizards, and somehow, Han’s found himself there: finally free of the cuffs that sealed his power, clamped onto his wrists by the very people who removed them. But for a price: in exchange for the very things Han needed—money, security, a life—the Clans have agreed to sponsor him through Mystwerk House, on the condition that Han returns to them once his training his complete. With little choice, yet little inclination, Han’s hands are tied and off he goes to train his magic, accompanied by his long-time friend Dancer.

Soldier Girl

Raisa ana’Marianna might not be the strongest built lass, or the tallest—or the prettiest since she lopped off her hair (she’ll never let her fellow soldiers do that again) and now sports something resembling a floppy rat—but she’s got balls, for a girl. Shirking her royal life, Raisa has no plans to return to the palace, avoiding it as one might a nest of vipers. That’s all the crown princess sees when she looks to the royal court of her homeland: machinations and intrigues develop and spawn in secret, whilst political power shifts dangerously, beginning to resemble a time when the world was once broken. A pivotal piece in the power-game, Raisa is safe from no-one. Should anyone find her at Oden’s Ford, and should Amon not be able to protect her, whomever holds her in hand could well hold the next few moves on the board.

Baying for Attention

Handed a much more sizeable role in the story this time, are the Bayar twins—Micah and Fiona—introduced in the first instalment, and with Micah receiving more stage-time than his sister. Desperate to steer Raisa towards his own subtle plans, Micah has spent the summer searching for the runaway princess. However, when term begins, the wizard son of the High Wizard—Gavan Bayar, presently worming his way into the Queen’s fancy, brushing aside all laws that would forbid him to do so—is obliged to attend Mystwerk House. Little does he know, that his would-be betrothed is soldering just across the way at Oden’s Ford, just out of his reach. For now.

Fiona on the other hand has her own games in mind, and upon meeting Han, also a first-year, she quickly includes him and his power in her schemes; even if that means going against her own brother. Of course, Fiona doesn’t wish Micah ill, but neither does she support his father’s view to make him King at Raisa’s side. After all; what’s the harm in a new Queen in a Queendom in need?

Young as they are, barely seventeen, the Bayar twins’ machinations might just outplay the defter games their father has in play. They might also outplay each other.

A Deeper Game

Not everything at the Academies is happy lessons and drilling in the yard: at the very places where Raisa and Han believe they’ll be safe, danger lurks close enough to hear it breathing in the dark. Whilst Raisa must do all she can to remain hidden as herself, ever posing as Rebecca Morley, Han finds himself in the tutelage of two wizards, both flaunting better, brighter power than his own, and invariably better and brighter futures that what the Clans have offered. Unable to refuse one, and unable to identify another—whom only appears in dreams—Han’s options aren’t as open as he at first thinks.

Farther afield, back in Fellsmarch, the Queen is quiet: with Gavan Bayar close, and his game playing out differently to he expected, he begins to set his sights on Raisa’s sister, petitioning to make her the Queen’s heiress in Raisa’s stead, claiming her running away as contrary to the interests of the Queendom. A single letter from her mother is all Raisa receives in return for her correspondence; a letter that serves only to confuse the princess heir further as to who she can and cannot trust.

In this game of power, influence and magics—both natural and intrinsic—Raisa, like Han, would do better to trust only a few honest friends.

Not so sleepy, but still not awake

Although the plodding pace of The Demon King has been nudged to a slow trot for The Exiled Queen there is still little action and little clear development of a real and world-influencing plot. The synopses for both books claimed dark, dangerous powers and spoke of the title-cited ‘demon king’. There is still little sight of this great wizard, and whilst it could be suggested that this second novel—and subsequently the two final novels to follow—chart his rise to the power his birthright suggests, this answer falls a little short and something is still lacking.

Why should I read this book?

Nevertheless, The Exiled Queen is an excellent and enjoyable read. The series has solidified itself in this second instalment as being a ‘growing up’ sort of story. Much like Harry and his friends come of age, and grow into strong teens-then-adults in the Harry Potter series, the same can be said of our friends from Fellsmarch.

Whilst the plot lacks the punch of more epic fantasy settings/stories, this doesn’t do The Exiled Queen enough of an injustice that it matters. The story is fun, better-paced than The Demon King and overall, better delivered. The character development—the best part of the series so far—continues strongly and by the end of the book, the cast has matured considerably. They have struck out into the world against all rules and wishes, setting up The Gray Wolf Throne to be an exciting and different style of novel considering what we’ve seen of the Seven Realms series thus far. aHarr

[Review] A Darkness Forged in Fire (Iron Elves #1), by Chris Evans

Evans’ debut novel A Darkness Forged in Fire—the first instalment in the Iron Elves Trilogy—shows off Evans’ passion for military history and fantasy, by joining the two in a gritty, imaginative marriage where army life and Napoleonic era tactics coexist with fantasy staples. The trilogy continues with The Light of Burning Shadows and will be completed by Ashes of a Black Frost, due for release in summer 2011.

Konowa Swift Dragon has led his regiment into shame and exile: he murdered a Viceroy and now the honour of the Iron Elves is as bloodied as his hands. A shamed regiment, stripped of everything—including their leader—the once glorious elves are but a stain on the Calahrian Empire’s colours. Konowa, court-marshalled and banished, has had plenty of time to dwell on his predicament as he wanders the dense forests he despises so fervently, with only his loyal bengar, Jir, to keep him sane.

But with a darkness on the horizon blacker than Konowa’s mood, the former commander is wrenched from his misery and thrust back into the fray. With a new draft of soldiers to fill his beloved Iron Elves—and not a single elf amongst them—Konowa must face not only the rising elf-witch, the Shadow Monarch, as she vies for domination, but also himself. Deep in the forest, ordered to find the scattered original Iron Elves, under the constant scrutiny of an inexperienced, adventure-seeking prince, charged not only with defeating the rising evil with which his destiny intertwines, but restoring order throughout the Empire, Konowa will soon realise that his black ear-tip—the Shadow Monarch’s mark on her chosen soldiers—along with his fate, cannot be forgotten.

For the Empire

Whilst it is the grander scheme of the Shadow Monarch that underpins the series thus far, without the innovative and insightful details into the Iron Elves as a living, breathing branch of the Imperial army, the notion of a powerful sorceress bent on world destruction would come across too clichéd. Instead, the Calahrian Empire’s struggle to maintain order as she struggles to promote her own brand of progress—as equally important as defeating the Shadow Monarch—coupled with the raw mechanics of a regiment on the move, actively fighting the forces of the elf-witch, whilst dealing with its own problems, brought by injury, death and obligation, present the old cliché in brand new colours: the colours of the Imperial army. Everything is in the name of the Queen, whether Konowa and his men like it or not.

Dwarves need not apply

A regiment smells, and A Darkness Forged in Fire captures this scent in every page. The soldiers of the Iron Elves are diverse and it is through them that the regiment is given life: a religious zealot, a single grudge-bearing elf of the original Iron Elves, a sly trouble-maker and a mismatched pair whose camaraderie invites the reader deeper into the unit.

Reluctantly sworn into the Iron Elves, is Alwyn; a bespectacled young man, whose eyesight is as bad as Yimt’s manners (a veteran dwarf whose stories will make your hair curl) and whose courage is always shaken, but never shattered. Together, Alwyn and Yimt—the only dwarf in the unit and sworn in by pure cheek alone—pull the reader to the level of the soldiers, away from the lofty, tense world in which Konowa—at the side of the prince—exists in the unit, and through their friendship a real taste of what their life in the cursed Iron Elves is like is offered.

Green magic

As a counterpart to the grit of the Iron Elves, the side of those opposed to the Empire is given, though not as the Iron Elves’ adversaries, rather, as companions and allies. Visyna Tekoy—high-born noble from Elfkyna, sent to drag Konowa from exile—wields a gentle magic and even gentler respect for nature that clashes with Konowa’s strong detestation of the forests of his birth, despite the seeds of turbulent romance planted between the two. Another female seeks to balance out the thick macho cast—or would, if she weren’t brasher than most of the men combined. Rallie, official reporter for the Queen, is a cigar-smoking old crone, who whilst she is more than she first seems, remains a constant oracle, doling out guidance and advice to Konowa and to the unit, delivering both wit and wisdom as she sketches her way through trouble, chain-smoking all the while. Although brash, Rallie’s subtle gentility and mysterious powers make her a close confidant for Visyna and a solid pillar to which to wine about Konowa and the Empire.

 Marching narrative

The style is straightforward, without droning on, and whilst details about the setting are presented, they’re not as important to Evans’ as the plot. The setting is explained as the story progresses, and little time is devoted to the background of the situation: enough is divulged and explained meticulously to allow the reader to continue happily and immerse themselves in the world, although readers expecting a military-standard, encompassing description of the Empire’s rise will find themselves disappointed.

Keep it moving

The weakest point of the book is movement, especially during battles: it appears at times that Evans’ has completed forgotten to move his characters as they fight. This is especially true of the final battle of the book, where it seems Konowa and another officer observe the fight from stationary places, like cardboard cut outs, when in fact, the narrative and dialogue suggest they actively participate. Furthermore, the descriptions of both the elf-witch’s magic and its effects, especially during battles, bring down the overall excellence of the book, as sometimes it is just too difficult to grasp precisely what is transpiring, and the reader needs to grasp at the following narrative to understand the resulting situation.

Why should you read this book?

A Darkness Forged in Fire is a different take on commonplace fantasy elements, combining both sorcery and military conquest, with classic sword-clashing and a struggle to save the world from death and darkness. It is a vivid and gripping debut, by an imaginative and strong writer, whose strengths far outweigh his weaknesses, and whose original, vibrant characters bring the world to life in place. If you’re a fan of elves, but fancy something grittier, something different, then give Konowa and his Iron Elves a try.

4/5

[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] 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] 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

"That Kind of Work" - A battle against transgressive and literary fiction

It seems particularly relevant to what's in the SFF media at the moment--that (now slightly old) review of the television adaptation of G.R.R Martin's Game of Thrones (A Song of Ice and Fire)--that I should post this now. Whilst not strictly related to the unashamedly stupid, and senseless review of the latest fantasy thing to hit the mainstream, there is a link with what's been on my mind at present. Namely, rewriting. 

Recently, following a BBC show that apparently "sneered" at genre fiction, seemingly recognising only literary fiction as a valid 'genre' in which people really read, 85 authors--not all SFF writers--took enough offence to put their names to a complaint in regard to the 'treatment of genre fiction', which was subsequently sent to the BBC. 

Various blog posts sprung up following the New York Times' review, and more after the BBC's obvious snobbery. But Daniel Abraham's posting at Orbit ("Reviewing the Reviewers") struck a particular chord. 

"From the creative writing professor who won’t accept “that kind” of work". A single line that reminds me why instead of being deep into the second (or even third) novel in my planned trilogy, I am trudging away trying to unravel and mend everything that was written during my Bachelors and Masters degrees with a single goal in mind: twisting my SFF genre writing so that my lecturers would accept it. 

Having spoken with other students still studying for their BAs, I have to realise how lucky I was; in some instances, certain lecturers have begun to outright refuse SFF and genre fiction, in favour of what (unfortunately) used to permeate critique sessions throughout both degrees--transgressive and literary fiction. 

"I don't want any goblins!" a recent PhD student-teacher announced to her class, much to the bemusement of the girl I know who studies her under, since, to her knowledge, not a person in the class had decided to be "old school" enough to involve just goblins in their SFF work. Nevertheless, I was lucky. 

I managed to submit my genre fiction (usually science-fantasy, or high-fantasy) with little trouble, whilst still receiving very high grades and absolutely no disrespect toward my chosen genre. In fact, I recall critique being carefully constructed and honest; my tutor did not understand SFF, but he understood writing and in his eyes, if the writing was good enough, the genre was of little importance. 

Unfortunately, I didn't remain under the tutelage of this man for very long, and soon I found myself forced to add elements to my writing I simply did not want to add. To "spice" up my fantasy I felt the need to add transgressive aspects, and more of the supposedly "fantastic" or "gothic" than required, merely to be able to justify the work better with a strong "literary" bibliography of references and influences. 

For my BA dissertation I wrote sci-fantasy/sci-fi; I managed to keep it precisely as I desired. However, I made the decision at the beginning of the project to refuse the guidance of my tutor. Why? I worried I'd be "encouraged away" from SFF, and be gently nudged toward lit-fic. Needless to say, this was the last thing I wanted. So, I swore off dissertation meetings, and essentially avoided university for the duration of the write-up. This might have gotten me a lower grade--I'm certain no tutor enjoys being ignored--but since the grade was high in the end, I still feel that the decision was the best I could make. 

But the point is that I shouldn't have needed to. Nor should I have needed to alter the plan for my novel, just so that I could comfortably submit excerpts of it throughout the duration of the course. The fact is that I had to. Or at least the treatment genre fiction received made it feel this way. By the end I became sneaky and I was submitting even transgressive sci-fi for the modules where "transgressive" was subtly forced into the curriculum at the last minute, and science-fantasy poetry for the obligatory modules. 

I am stubborn; other students were not so adamant in their approach to writing precisely what they wanted and subsequently changed their work. 

It's not fair, and it's certainly not right. It's not right that a university advertises a "Prose Masterclass" module, and then announces to students the day the course runs that it is to be a transgressive literature module, with nary a hint to such before. But, it happens. It shouldn't, but it does. 

For the MA, I buckled. Desperate to actually pass the damn thing I changed what I wanted to write. I'd wanted to write a science-fantasy novel (or at least 20,000 words of it...) and submit that with an accompanying study of the genre, its evolution and an exploration of precisely what sci-fantasy is. I even got as far as submitting my proposal, before I bottled out. 

It is an unpleasant experience to avoid meetings with tutors, simply because you know they're going to essentially cajole you into not writing SFF. That's the crux of it. In the end,  I turned in something essentially sci-fi, with elements taken from modern Japanese lit-fic as a way to steer around what was "accepted". Accompanying this was a detailed study on the evolution of cyberpunk, through to postcyberpunk, and the areas in which Western sci-fi and Japanese sci-fi meet. That, and how oddly transferable the themes found within Japanese lit-fit are. 

I struck gold and fascinated one tutor, but the other remained snobbish about little other than the plot of the piece. Still, thank the SFF gods for dual markers. The man I struck gold with? Yes...the lecturer I'd been so grateful for at the beginning of the course. Personally, I think it's the worst thing I ever wrote and I hate the damned contrived thing, but I walked away, Masters in hand, and vowed never to touch that particular university again. Which is a pity...since I'd wanted to study for a PhD.

 It's an unfortunate fate for anyone who so much as even likes SFF to be considered differently by their peers. Genre fiction, specifically SFF will never be mainstream, but that doesn't mean it can't be accepted, and coexist peacefully alongside other genres. 

The whole "university experience" was dampened by this, and in the end, although I'm standing here, two degrees in hand, my novel is presently being torn apart and rewritten to remove all the "necessary" sludge I inserted, just to feel passable in class. With a whole book ahead of me to polish, finish and revise, after having wiped off its stage make-up, I'm wondering if either degree was worth it.

I suppose I have the degrees, I have the few vague lessons I learned, and I still have my novels--incomplete or otherwise. The trilogy of The White War is coming along, and it will become what it was always supposed to be; not a dressed-up piece of garble that was forced out on demand, aiming to please all the wrong people.