Fantasy Review: 'The Widow's House' by Daniel Abraham

Warning: this is the fourth book in a five-book series, and for anyone who hasn't read all the previous books, there will be spoilers ahead, so read at your own risk.

When I first saw the title of this book, I deduced that the widow was Clara, whose husband Dawson was executed as a traitor in a previous book. Clara had a walk-on part in the first book, and her own chapters thereafter, but now she finally takes centre-stage, not necessarily as a player in her own right (although to some extent she is), but more specifically as the mother of sons involved in different ways in the ongoing war. So, the widow's house: not a physical house, but house as in family.

Clara is one of four point of view characters, to cover the full scale of the war that's been gradually building since book one. The four are: Geder, the Regent and spider-priest-motivated driving force behind it; Cithrin, the banker opposed to him for personal as well as ideological reasons; Marcus the soldier with a long, battle-scarred history; and Clara herself. The book follows the Game of Thrones principle, where chapters from different characters rotate, although here the rotation is quite regular. This has the usual disadvantage: a cliff-hanger at the end of a chapter can't be resolved until that character's turn comes round again, usually four chapters later. Authors, please don't do this, it's very annoying. At its best, the plot flows seamlessly from one character's point of view to the next, but mostly there's that little hiccup of adjustment when you flip to a new chapter, that where-were-we? moment.

When Abraham pitched this series, he offered either a three book version or this, the five book version. This is the first point at which I'm tempted to say: three might have been better. The actual events of this book could be written on half an A4 sheet of paper, and not using an abnormally small font, either. The story doesn't sprawl in the way that some other, very expansive, series do (George R R Martin, I'm looking at you...), but it isn't tightly written, either. Now, in the hands of a master wordsmith like Abraham, this isn't a problem. A chapter curls around you like smoke, warm and comforting (like Clara’s pipe, if you want the full analogy), and it's only afterwards that you think: nothing very much happened there. This is particularly obvious with Clara's thread, since she's thrown into the role of an observer of the war and not much else. I like Clara, but her plotline was stretched very thin here.

The author's great strength (OK, one of his many great strengths - can you tell I'm a fan?) is the depth of characterisation and so it is here. All the characters feel fully rounded and as real as anyone you could meet in real life. Even Geder, or perhaps especially Geder. In many ways he’s a villain of the first order, but also a deeply insecure and uncertain man. And some of his moments with Prince Aster, the heir to the throne, show him as a caring, even compassionate man, with a certain wisdom. His care for the pregnant wife of his best friend (and possibly only friend) is both moving and slightly creepy in its intensity. The previous books were littered with horrifying 'Geder moments' like the burning of Vanai, or the summary execution of his closest advisers, with the result that you tiptoe through Geder’s chapters wondering when he’s going to explode. He still has no sense of perspective, and puts far too much trust in the spider priests who have an agenda of their own. The most worrying aspect of Geder, for me, is that I actually like him, or, I suppose, pity and sympathise with him. He's done some terrible things, but he's also an enormously tragic character, and part of me desperately wants him to find a happy ending, to settle down somewhere to a quiet, obscure life with his books.

Cithrin, on the other hand, irritates me. She always has, although her juvenile behaviour in the early books was at least understandable by virtue of her age and social inexperience. Her sole function seems to be to do incredibly stupid things for most of the book, or to lounge around in a drunken depression, getting into trouble and being rescued by everyone else, and then pull a rabbit out of a hat at the last minute and have everyone proclaim her a genius. Two cities have fallen solely because of her stupidity, and she's not done yet. Pah. Marcus I like a lot, although he's typical of the stoical, worldly-wise, slightly cynical warrior type, whose experience keeps him out of a lot of trouble. And keeps others out of trouble too. But then I have a soft spot for stoical, slightly cynical warrior types. And I do like sidekick Yardem. Especially his ears. It was nice to find out a little more of their dramatic history, and highly entertaining when the pair of them turned up at Carse to have everyone say: ‘Yeah, yeah, sure you’re Marcus Wester and Yardem Hale… Whoa!’

While we're on the subject of characters, I’m a big fan of Vincen Coe, Clara’s servant-turned-lover, but please, Mr Abraham, will you stop beating him up? However, my absolute favourite in this book has to be Inys (and if you don't know who Inys is, go back and reread book three, last chapter). Everything he says and does is entirely believable, given his history and his nature. Plus he has some of the best moments in the book. Him and the pirates. I mean, pirates and a dragon - what are you waiting for, folks? Go out and buy this book immediately.

There are a few minor grumbles. The cunning men (sorcerers, basically) become even more useful in this book, but there’s no explanation of what they do or how it works. Much of their capability is dismissed as mere trickery, put on to impress people, yet their talent for healing seems to be quite real and rather useful. A little more detail about them would be nice. And a surprising grumble: my Kindle version had an astonishing number of typos in it, far more than I would expect in a major release like this (and this wasn’t an ARC copy, it was the actual day-of-release version).

This book feels far more like a transition than the previous ones in the series. Everything is being put in place for the final confrontation, but there were no huge out-of-nowhere moments, just some nice little twists that made me smile. And somehow it felt repetitious, both in phraseology (fingers were repeatedly laced together, cotton was fresh from the boll), but also in plot terms - the Cithrin plan, the dramatic escapes, the out-of-nowhere attacks, yet I never felt that the main characters were seriously at risk. Even Geder was milder this time round, still creepy as hell, especially over Cithrin, but perhaps less likely to explode at any moment, channelling his energies into his best friend’s wife and baby, and a clever little piece of engineering research. However, the important factor in this book was the shift in attitude. From being an unstoppable force, Geder and the spider priests now have vulnerabilities, and the opposition have plans and weapons. And a dragon. Inys wasn't the get-out-of-jail-free card that might have been expected, but he's still a wild card. I have no idea how this is going to end, but I can't wait to find out. Four stars.

Fantasy Review: 'The Tyrant's Law' by Daniel Abraham

This is the third volume of the Dagger and Coin Quintet, the difficult middle book - the one that drags the weight of two books’ worth of previous history, that also has to begin arranging all the pieces for the endgame and still has to make sense by itself. It should be an impossible task, an experience as dense and heavy and glutinous as treacle. Yet it flows like cream, tastes like chocolate and slips down just as easily. Abraham’s prose is a joy to read, elegant and spare, every word in its proper place.

As before, the cast of point of view characters is limited - Clara is finding her feet amongst the nobodies of Camnipol after her noble husband was executed for treason; Cithrin is in another new city learning more about banking; Geder the unstable Regent of Antea is making war again, aided by his spider-goddess priest; and Marcus the former soldier is hiking through the southern jungles with escaped spider-goddess man Kit looking for a magic sword. And as before, the story jumps about from one to another, but the individual plotlines are not independent, so one chapter will show the events of that character is close-up, while also revealing something of events elsewhere, glimpsed from afar in rumour and hearsay. This is done very cleverly, so the overall plot flows beautifully from chapter to chapter.

This is industrial-strength fantasy, so Geder's war is spilling across the whole northern continent, and is seemingly unstoppable. This is the third campaign to feature in the story. The first book centred on the fall of the city of Vanai. In the second, Antea conquered neighbouring Asterilhold. This time, Geder (or rather, his spider-priest adviser) has his sights set on Sarakal. There is inevitably some sense of repetition in all this, but Abraham gives the events a new perspective to keep things fresh. This time, Geder's capabilities are well understood, and there are no illusions about the consequences.

The series is called The Dagger and the Coin, and is presumably intended to contrast the two powerful forces of conquest, by armed force, or by economics. Geder's military ambitions continue to roll onwards, but for the first time there are signs that the financial clout of the bank can have an impact. There are hints about the difficulties of maintaining long supply lines, and getting the staple crops planted and harvested when so many men are tied up in the war. There are hints, too, that the bank can help indirectly with the refugee and resettlement problem, and more directly, in supporting covert acts of rebellion. However, it’s still not obvious how economics will bring a real direct challenge to bear against military might. Perhaps this isn’t Abraham’s intention, but if not, the whole banking plot becomes marginalised.

Abraham has a nice way of subverting the tropes of the genre. Most fantasy is (in the broadest sense) about swords and sorcery, so that all problems are eventually disposed of by one or other of these elements (or occasionally both). The evil villain is bent on global domination for vague reasons, and the hero (or occasionally a heroine) tools up with a magic sword or else learns to use the magic powers they’ve mysteriously been endowed with. Here, the evil villain is sort of bent on global domination, but it’s a role he more or less reversed into accidentally, and all with the very best of intentions. What could be so malign about spreading the spider-goddess’s message of truth across the world? Meanwhile, Marcus and Kit go on a traditional fantasy quest to track down the magic sword which will kill the goddess, but (without giving too much away) that doesn’t go quite as they expected. As for magic, there’s very little around at all. Proponents are called ‘cunning men’ and have minor roles as showmen and healers.

One nice aspect is that we have two interesting female characters taking strong leadership roles in the fight against Geder the war-making Regent. Clara is now released from the stifling conformity of court rules and taking advantage of her freedom to plot and scheme in Camnipol, as well as enjoying a degree of personal freedom. I very much like Clara, her subtlety, her cleverness and her determination. It makes a nice counterpoint to her husband’s more ham-fisted efforts in the previous books. Even though things don’t always go quite as anticipated (what ever does in an Abraham book?), she always makes well-considered decisions.

In contrast, Cithrin... Look, I’m going to have a bit of a rant about Cithrin, so feel free to skip ahead to the next paragraph if you want. Cithrin, you stupid, stupid woman. When will you ever learn? Your entire character arc has been defined by short-sightedness and downright bad decision-making. You find yourself stuck in the wrong city with the bank’s wealth? Why not forge a few papers to set yourself up as a pretend bank? After all, it would be too simple just to write to the bank’s head and await instructions, wouldn’t it? And if you find yourself trapped during an uprising with a powerful but totally unstable character who wants sex? Well, why not? This book is quite a good explanation of why not, actually. And then, given a one-time opportunity to get close to the Regent, to influence the events of history and do some good, could you actually, just once in your life, do something sensible? Course not. Gah. Stupid woman. I mean, what exactly does she think Geder is going to do now? Smile sweetly and forget all about her? He already burned one city because he felt slighted.

Geder himself is a fascinating character. Of course he makes dumb decisions as well, but in his case his motives are entirely understandable and believable, and it’s possible to feel very sympathetic towards him, and appalled at the same time. Being the focus of everyone’s amusement is dispiriting and annoying, and being the patsy for other people’s political games would get anyone riled. His response to the Vanai problem, although it was more a fit of petulance than a rational decision, was not an unusual way to deal with a recalcitrant conquest. Even when he’s behaving very badly, it’s easy to see exactly how and why it happened. He’s a social incompetent, who would be very much at home in the modern world, head buried in his iPad or harmlessly slaughtering orcs in World of Warcraft. It’s only in his fantasy setting that he is the tyrant of the title.

Marcus - meh. I like the banter, and the low-key cynicism which sometimes borders on suicidal fatalism, but it’s not an original character trait, and the whole tragic wife and child history is a bit over-used. I like Yardem a lot better, in fact, because although he has baggage (why did he leave the priesthood, exactly?) he doesn’t let it define him. Although that may simply be an artefact of not being a point of view character; because we never get inside Yardem’s head, we never see how tortured his soul is. Or it may just be the ears. Gotta love a character with such speaking ears.

This is not a high-action book. Even though there’s a war going on, and a new religion spreading like a stain from Camnipol, and the whole continent is in turmoil, it still feels like an intimate, close-up portrait of the characters before all else. A whole chapter may feature nothing but Clara walking about Camnipol, Clara taking tea with a friend, Clara going home again, but this gives the characters the space to breathe, to live, to think, to feel. Between paces, Clara can contemplate a great many subjects without it becoming heavy philosophising. Abraham doesn’t ever tell his readers what to think about anything (religion, war, slavery, inherited monarchies), and those who want can simply enjoy the story and the author’s exquisite prose, but the deeper themes are there to be explored by those who wish, usually by the contrast of one approach with another. For example, Kit and Basrahip are both spider-infested; one is using that to control people so that he can take over the world in the spider-goddess’s name, while the other goes to great lengths not to control people at all, and is trying to find a way to end the spider regime altogether. Is it evil to remove lies from the world and impose honesty? Good question.

The ending? Awesome. A great big bowl of awesomeness, with lashings of awesome sauce on top. The first two books I had some settling down reservations about, but this one, none at all. It’s a quieter book than the previous ones, but in my view it’s all the better for that. Perhaps the series is just getting into its stride, or the characters have grown into their roles (even Cithrin, maybe, possibly), or perhaps it’s just that, after a lot of circling round, we’re getting to know something about the dragons at last. Dragons make everything better. So unquestionably five stars. And now the long wait until the next book...

Fantasy Review: 'Darker Angels' by M L N Hanover

This is the second of the ‘Black Sun’s Daughter’ series of urban fantasies, written under a pseudonym by Daniel Abraham. The first, ‘Unclean Spirits’, was a bit spotty, overfull of angst, shopping sprees and housecleaning, not to mention a certain amount of breathless sex. This one is a lot better in all respects. I find the three blokes a bit hard to distinguish, though, and even though I know there’s an ex-priest, a calm chanting one and the love interest, it still took me most of the book to get straight which one was which.

The plot this time involves an ex-FBI agent who’s been tracking down ‘riders’ (demons of some sort who latch onto a human, inhabiting their body), and wants the gang to kidnap a child because... OK, never mind about the plot. There are some dramatic encounters which never go quite the way they’re supposed to and it makes for a solid, pacy read. There are also the beginnings of depth to the characters and their relationships, and now that Jayné (the heroine, and if you think that name is bad, the sidekicks are called Ex, Chogyi Jake and Aubrey; but the FBI agent is Karen, so make of that what you will). Where was I? Oh yes, now that Jayné has calmed down a bit, she’s beginning to show signs of intelligent life. She thinks the way to wind down after a close encounter with a ‘rider’ is a night of heavy-duty clubbing, but it’s better than break-the-bank shopping binges, I suppose. She’s still not got much self-confidence, but the author is allowing her to grow rather well from book to book, and the dynamic between her and the three sidekicks is beginning to blossom nicely.

The story this time is set in New Orleans in the wake of Katrina, and the setting is beautifully realised, and feels totally real and atmospheric. I’ve only been there once, many years ago, but some of the descriptions brought back vivid memories. The voodoo background is perfect for the story, too. There is some rather heavy-handed drawing of parallels between the Katrina-wrought changes and the events of Jayné’s life, but it does give the book a bit of much-needed depth.

A small quibble. I don’t expect to see punctuation issues with a book put out by a major publisher, but this one repeatedly had lines that went: ‘Blah blah blah, I said. It drove me nuts. Hiring a decent editor is not just for self-publishers. But it’s a minor point in a book which builds to a terrific finale. Again, nothing quite goes according to plan, but (as in the first book) I like the way that Jayné doesn’t quite turn into the all-powerful kick-ass heroine, gets injured and needs help and support from a few of her friends.

To be honest, I’m not much enamoured with urban fantasy. I like the big sweep of a created world, and it seems a little odd to me for characters to battle demons and then drive off down the I10 or pop into a Starbucks to check their email. But I’m very much enamoured of the writings of Daniel Abraham, so I’m definitely on board for the whole series. This was a step up from the first book, and the more credible heroine, evocative setting, breathless finale and greater depth make it four stars.

Review: 'The King's Blood' by Daniel Abraham

Daniel Abraham is one of my must-read authors. I reckon his Long Price Quartet to be the finest work of modern fantasy I've yet read, and his current sci-fi and urban fantasy series are coming along nicely too. Yes, he's prolific, and, even better, he writes fast - a new book a year for each series. No long waits. This book is the second in the Dagger And Coin Quintet, his first attempt at a more traditional form of fantasy, and as such is still settling in. The first book was promising, if a bit uneven. This one follows the same four characters, Cithrin, Geder, Dawson and Marcus, plus one extra, Dawson's wife Clara. Cithrin is the figurehead for her bank, but kept on a short leash by the bank's notary, Pyk, who has an unimaginative risk-averse strategy and a strong personal dislike of Cithrin. Marcus is still a guard with a history. Geder has accidentally reversed into a position of great influence. Dawson is still a traditionalist nobleman and friend of the king. Clara is still the smart woman behind the public figure of her husband. These last three are involved in the political machinations surrounding Aster, the king's son and heir, in Camnipol. Meanwhile, Master Kit, an apparently minor character in the previous book, is following his own agenda against the spider goddess.

Like most fantasy, this one takes a while to get going. The early chapters are reflective, and work well to set the scene as well as gently reminding the reader of the events of the previous book. I never felt at a loss, wondering who a character was or what was being referred to. The writing style is elegantly spare, with some nicely lyrical flourishes that never seem overblown. This is a writer at the very top of his game (did I mention I'm a big fan?). Even so, the slow pace early on is a bit of a turn-off. I'm not mad keen on the current fad for named point of view chapters; it's all too easy to turn the page and think: hmm, another chapter about X, and put the book down. But after the initial settling in phase, things begin to get going and the pace picks up nicely, and somewhere around the midpoint, the proverbial hits the whatsit and all hell breaks loose.

The world-building is a little less perfunctory in this book. For the first time, there seems to be some real depth and structure to the various nations, so that the few cities which have a role seem less like islands in the midst of vast expanses of nothing very much. There is some attempt, too, to expand on the various races (the original First Bloods, and the twelve races created by the dragons long ago to fulfil various roles). I still get them mixed up, mind you, but it doesn't seem to matter much, and it was nice to see the Drowned close up (I have a suspicion they're going to be important). There are some hints about the dragons themselves, too, and what happened to them. There is also plenty of description of places and little snippets of history, which work very well to illuminate the author's created world without becoming too heavy on the info-dump scale. We also get to see a little more of the religion (or cult, maybe?) of the spider goddess, and there are some moments here that are truly chilling.

I feel the slightest tinge of disappointment that Abraham, a man of infinitely fertile imagination, has plonked his characters into such a conventional world. Even though he set out from the start to create a more traditional form, this is very much the off-the-shelf fantasy world - a patriarchal society where men rule and plot and fight as kings and dukes and soldiers, women stay home and raise families and broker marriage deals, slaves do a lot of the work, and virginity is prized in a bride. Beyond the nobility and wealthy, fortunately, there is more variety, and the economic element (the coin of the series title) introduces a different perspective. Within the banking world, for instance, women can and do take an equal part in affairs (as Cithrin demonstrates). And it has to be said that so far the author has done a very good job of pointing out the deficiencies of a hereditary patriarchal system, which throws up a fair number of idiots and incompetents, thrusts unsuitable people into roles of great power, sometimes entirely by accident, and wastes fifty percent of its resources by leaving them sitting at home with their embroidery. It's also a system which doesn't seem to leave many options apart from war or not-war. There are three more books in the series for him to make his point (or not) on this, so I'll reserve judgment until it's done.

The characters always felt like real, rounded personalities, and that is even more true now. Geder, in particular, is one to ponder. I've no doubt readers will be arguing for years about his peculiar mix of naivité, insecurity and sudden bursts of vicious cruelty, but Cithrin and Marcus also have abrupt swings between common sense and reckless stupidity. Dawson I still find dull, and although Clara has her moments, she has too little to do here to really shine. Even the minor roles have great depth, and you really feel that they have lives outside the confines of the story, where they just get on with things until their arcs intersect with the main plotlines once more. Abraham has an amazing ability to show both the good and bad in people, so that even someone like Pyk, the notary, or the pirate, either of whom could have been made into a caricature mini-villain, are given complex motivation which brings them perilously close to being sympathetic. All the characters behave in believable ways, and if occasionally you feel the author's hand nudging them along so that they meet up at convenient times, that's acceptable, I think.

I found the politics of the first book quite confusing - so many odd names and titles and nations and shifting allegiances, and the difficulty of not knowing quite who's important and who is just passing through for a chapter or two. This one is much easier to follow, although whether this is the author's surer hand or just comes from greater familiarity with the story I can't say. But Abraham has an uncanny ability to toss up the difficult questions. Is a decision right just because it seems logical? Where exactly does (or should) loyalty lie? Who can you ever trust? Which is the greater power, military might or money (the fundamental question of the series)? The hazy boundaries between truth and faith and certainty. And then there's the matter of unintended consequences - in the last book, it was the events at Vanai that changed everything, this time it's Dawson's conscience that spirals out of control. And as always Abraham shows us both sides of every equation, so that there is no black or white, no good or evil, only people doing the best they can with whatever they have to work with, and trying to do what seems right at the time. Sometimes it turns out well, and sometimes it doesn't, and sometimes it's impossible to tell, and sometimes you just wonder, what on earth were they thinking? (Cithrin, I'm looking at you here.) And yet in all sorts of ways it makes sense.

Abraham is often compared with George R R Martin, which is probably unfair to both authors, and I suspect arises largely because they are personal friends. In reality, they are very different writers. Martin has larger than life characters, a cast of thousands, a depressing hyper-medieval setting and a sprawling mess of tangled plotlines spilling over two continents and numerous doorstopper volumes. Abraham populates his books with believably realistic characters, a tightly woven plot and a deeply intelligent sub-text. If Martin were a painter, he would be hurling great sweeps of colour over the entire gallery wall; Abraham would be more of an oil on canvas man, painstakingly building the layers, every brushstroke placed with considered precision. I love them both in their different ways.

A better comparison for this series is with The Long Price Quartet, Abraham's much admired debut work, and no, this doesn't quite reach those heights of awesomeness. The Dragon's Path was a good, promising start to the series, and The King's Blood is better, an excellent next step, but not quite extraordinary. For me, fantasy is about the otherness of a world that is alien, not like ours, and where the differences emerge - the spider priests, the cunning men, the lost dragons, that tantalising glimpse of the Drowned - the book is spine-tinglingly good. There are moments, too, when the characters step outside the boundaries and do something quite unexpected (well, unexpected to me, anyway, although always within the parameters of their natures), and these too raise the book to a different level.

However, the conventional nature of the setting is too commonplace to be interesting; there's nothing surprising about men waving swords around while women stitch, and I do like to be surprised. Nor do the characters draw me in. Geder, of course, is fascinating, in a horrifying way, and Cithrin and Marcus are interesting too; Dawson and Clara not so much (I hope Clara has more to do in later books, since she has potential). But none of them really resonate with me (by which I mean, do I care what happens to them? and the answer is no, not a great deal, not yet). More worryingly, the book never pulled me into that desperate got-to-know-what-happens-next state; even at the height of the Camnipol mayhem, it was just too easy to put the book down (partly those pesky chapters named after characters, I suppose - it just breaks the tension). So no staying up till 3am to finish it. The final few chapters were a bit choppy, too, because of the need to tie up loose ends and set the pieces in place for the next book.

Having said all that, these are trivial complaints and this is still way better than the vast majority of fantasy around these days. It's not high on action, but what there is makes sense and has consequences that have to be dealt with. Abraham's elegant prose is a pleasure to read, the tight plotting is masterful, and the characters have a very human mixture of intelligence and idiocy, common sense and irrational impulse, completely believable. As always, there is a raft of thought-provoking ideas here for those who want them, particularly in the latter half of the book. I have every confidence that (as with The Long Price) each individual book in the series will be even better than the one before. A good four stars. Highly recommended.

Review: 'Unclean Spirits' by M L N Hanover

I'm really not a big fan of urban fantasy. Discovering the author's created world is (for me) the most exciting part of fantasy, and starting in the real world takes a lot of the fun out of it. Besides, our own world but with magic, vampires, demons, werewolves and the like? It's so implausible that it only really comes off as comedy, like Harry Potter or Buffy. But I have this hypothesis that Daniel Abraham (as Mr Hanover is better known) can't write a bad book, so here I am, reading an urban fantasy with a semi-clad young woman on the cover.

The first book of a series is always the trickiest. The author has to establish the world, establish the premise, introduce the characters, deal with the 'oh no! this can't be happening to me!' stuff, and also produce a plot which captures the essence of the style, whether kick-ass action or romance or mystery or whatever, in a sufficiently entertaining way that the reader wants to rush out and buy the next book. It's a hard act to pull off, and very often it takes several books before the author hits his/her stride.

So I was kind of expecting this to be spotty, and yes, it is, a bit. The writing feels uneasy in places, almost like the author's trying too hard to be edgy: "Across from Eric in the dim orange light of the bar, a man laughed and the waitress smiled a tight little smile that didn't reach her eyes. Eric tapped his glass, the tick-tick-tick of his fingernails sounding like the rain against the window." And the names: Jayné. Chogyi Jake. Midian. Ex. And Aubrey - that one sounds like a gay bloke to me, or maybe an elderly classics professor at Oxford, not the cute love interest.

Maybe it's me, but I found Jayné's barely-out-of-her-teens angsting a bit tedious. Tears, tantrums, shopping sprees, more tears, breathless sex, tears again, sleepless agonising, frantic housecleaning and yet more tears, with instant wild mood-swings between despair and euphoria - tedious. Even though she has reason for a certain amount of mental instability, it doesn't make for entertaining reading (although the euphoric phases can be very funny). And is it a bit creepy that a man in his forties or thereabouts writes this sort of stuff? Although if I didn't know the author was a man, I wouldn't guess. He's always written women well, and I think that after one or two more books, when Jayné learns to stop agonising, she'll be an interesting character. Not sure about the love interest, though. He seems a bit insipid to me. The other two blokes are far more interesting (and one woman and three men? how is that going to work out in the long term, I wonder?).

But underneath it all is a readable and (when Jayné leaves the angst behind long enough to get on with it) pacy plot, and the action moments are terrific. Nothing quite goes right, despite all the careful planning, and it helps that the Big Bad is intrigued enough not to just kill everyone on sight and stops to talk about it first (why do they always do that?), but I very much liked that in the end it needed a lot of teamwork and people helping each other out to get things to work. There wasn't a huge amount of tension in it (well, they weren't all going to die, were they? and it is the first of a series...), but it was nicely done. A good three stars.

Review: 'Leviathan Wakes' by James S A Corey

I don't read much scifi these days, but I'm a huge Daniel Abraham fan so this was a must-buy for me. Writing in collaboration with Ty Franck, this is a traditional Firefly-esque space opera with overtones of police procedural (sort of). Right from the start, the story grabs you and just never lets go, building pace and tension all the way to the unexpected twist ending (well, I didn't see it coming, anyway, but like Abraham's fantasy books, the outcome is one of those oh-of-course moments, rather than wait-what?).

I very much liked the use of only two alternating point of view characters to tell the story (with a prologue and epilogue featuring different people). The way the plot develops the two different storylines, and then merges them so that it seamlessly weaves from one viewpoint to the other is masterful. Both characters have depth and terrific personalities too. Holden is the righteous, almost naive, spaceship officer determined to do the correct thing. Miller is a borderline psychotic cop on an asteroid trading station, following his own train of deviant logic to pragmatic keeping-things-moving solutions. The collision between the two is inevitably fraught, but also deeply thought-provoking.

The world-building is breath-taking. The background is a solar system colonised by man and beginning to fragment, and every component part - the (asteroid) Belt, the various space ships and settlements - is beautifully realised and totally believable. The technology is not so complex or radical that it needs long explanations or a post-graduate level education to understand it. The minor characters and relationships are well-drawn and realistic, and I liked the way we are regularly reminded of the physical differences between planet-born and native Belters. Although this book reads as a stand-alone, there is enormous scope for developments in other parts of the solar system (Earth, the moon, Mars, the outer planets).

Like Abraham's fantasy novels, this is a wonderful pacy read, with well-rounded characters, and an absorbing plot, with more depth to it than I expected from the initial reviews. It isn't quite up to the stellar levels of 'The Long Price' (what is?), but it's still a good 4 stars, and I look forward to more in the series. Four stars. [First written August 2011]

Review: 'Dragon's Path' by Daniel Abraham

This is the first of a proposed quintet ('The Dagger and the Coin'), and is the author's first foray into what might be termed mainstream fantasy, after the critically applauded but unconventional 'The Long Price Quartet'. The dagger of the series title represents war, while the coin is economics - the twin approaches to conquest, or defence against it. The story centres around four main characters: Cithrin, a girl who is a ward of the Medean bank, shortly to achieve independence; Marcus, an experienced soldier; Geder, a low-ranking nobleman with a liking for speculative writings; and Dawson, a middle-aged nobleman with political tendencies. The plot jumps from one named POV to another.

I found the book slow to get into at first, but that is common with many fantasy novels, and this was easier to follow than many. But after a few chapters everything seemed to click into place, and the story picked up speed. It is still distracting, however, to hop around from one named POV (and plot thread) to another - just as you get interested in one part of the story you are whisked off somewhere else, perhaps less interesting. And some parts are definitely less interesting - Dawson, for instance. I much prefer not to know who the POV is in each chapter. It makes it much easier to stop reading, and harder to pick up again, if you think - 'Hmm, another Dawson chapter...'.

It was hard to keep track of the politicking that went on in Camnipol, in Antea. The different factions and motives were not easy to follow, and it felt sometimes as if there was a whole subtext that I just failed to get. Why, for instance, was Dawson exiled but not Issandrian? I had a similar problem with the economics sub-plot in Porte Oliva, but this worried me less. I just assumed that if I took the trouble to work it out, it would probably make sense.

The four main characters build quite nicely in depth as the book progresses. Geder, in particular, is a fascinating character, and while his actions may seem horrifying they are always entirely understandable and (in some sense) justified. What he does to Vanai is a perfectly sensible solution to an economic problem, after all - what else is one supposed to do with an unprofitable vanquished city? - although the way he does it leaves something to be desired. Master Kit, of course, is clearly going to be significant somewhere down the line. Marcus and Yardem have a terrific relationship, and Cithrin is more complex than she appeared at first sight. It is quite fun to meet a female protagonist who is pragmatic about sex, and responds to setbacks by taking to her bed with as much booze as she can get her hands on and staying there until it's gone. Even Dawson, for all his faults, raises a certain sympathy and his wife Clara is interesting too.

The world-building is not spectacular so far. It is yet another post-dragon, post-magic (more or less) world. The cities have interesting individual quirks, but the countryside in between seems pretty empty. The jade roads are intriguing, and the 12 created races are fascinating. At the moment they are merely ciphers, but presumably the differences will become important later. In particular, I suspect the Drowned will be crucial to something.

The plot rounds off with a flourish. Geder's political success is, in retrospect, predictable but I failed to read the signs. On the other hand, Cithrin's success is totally predictable and therefore dull. So she threatens the bank and the auditer promptly caves in? Rather lame. And the big reveal in the 'Entr'acte' was surely spotted by everyone long before. In summary, not earth shattering but a good and promising start to the series. Four stars. [First written May 2011]

[Edited after a reread May 2013] Having just read the third book in the series, 'The Tyrant's Law', I was disinclined to start reading anything new or different or (frankly) inferior. So I started all over again with book 1, and given that I hardly ever reread anything (so many books, so little time) this is a Big Deal.

What strikes me most is how well this reads for a little extra understanding. It's not just knowing which characters will be important, recognising names of places and the foreshadowing of events, but so many scenes are perceived entirely differently because of understanding the full implications of the prologue (the identity of the apostate, the peculiar nature of his ability and the way he deals with that). There's a lot of history, too, which makes far more sense when viewed from a couple of books further on. There are bits and pieces which whizzed by me previously: the prejudice against non-First-Blood races, for instance, which jumps out at me now.

The characters still fall into their original stances: Geder is fascinating, Cithrin is whiny and childish, but most of the time I like her, Marcus is still the laconic cynical ex-warrior with a tragic personal story (but I kinda like that trope) and Dawson is - yes, Dawson is still irritating and prejudiced and insufferably stuck in rigid protocol. I still don't understand the whole plot business in Camnipol. How is it that Dawson and Issandrian were both penalised, when one of them stirred up an armed rebellion against the throne and the other ensured it failed? How does that work?

But still - great book, a brilliantly devised if controversial character (Geder) and that huge whoa! moment at Vanai. And I still love the way that Geder simply reverses into success in his clumsy, half-arsed badly-thought-out way. He’s almost a sympathetic character, with his oddly not-quite-one-of-us ways, always trying to please, always falling short, a disappointment to his father and the butt of everyone else’s jokes. Terrific stuff. The plot is still half-formed at this point, but the characters just glow with life.

Review: 'Seasons of War' by Daniel Abraham

This is a double book - the last two volumes, 'An Autumn War' and 'The Price of Spring' of 'The Long Price' quartet. The first two volumes, namely 'The Shadow of Summer' and 'A Betrayal in Winter', are combined into a double book, 'Shadow and Betrayal'.
 

This series just gets better and better. In 'An Autumn War', we have moved on another fifteen years or so, and for the first time the shadowy threat of the Galts, seemingly behind every conspiracy in the previous books, moves out into the open, with an audacious plan - no less than to destroy the andat altogether, and then destroy the Khaiem and their poets before they have time to create more.

But although war is the main story, the underlying themes are far more intimate - family, sons and daughters, love and friendship, and the mistakes people make. Abraham's world is populated by people who are not heroes, who are not even very good at what they do, sometimes. They do the right thing for the wrong reasons, the wrong thing for the right reasons, and even the wrong thing for the wrong reasons, but we always understand why and sympathise with them.

The complicated relationship between Otah, Maati and Liat now comes back to haunt them in the shape of Liat's son, believed to be Maati's but now obvious to everyone as Otah's. This is a problem, since the two legitimate sons of a Khai are required to attempt to kill each other to secure the throne. But the quiet way everyone manages this potential difficulty, without Nayiit himself ever knowing, is very moving.

There is also a compelling side story in the shape of Sinja, loyal to Otah and training up soldiers to help defend the Khaiem against the Galts, who stumbles into the midst of the Galt army, not realising their full intentions, and is forced to play the role of hired mercenary and traitor to his people in order to survive.

Abraham manages to create his world superbly. Previously we have seen a great deal of the eastern-style Khaiem culture, with its teahouses, robes, elegant poses and soaring palaces, created by the power of the andat. Now for the first time we see the less impressive, but somehow more familiar, world of the Galt, with technology filling the andat-less void, and cities built on the smaller scale of human endeavour alone.

The book is even more of a page turner than the previous one was, as the Galts race to complete their plan before winter stalls them, and the Khaiem race to delay them as long as possible, so that the two remaining poets, Maati and Cehmai, have a chance to create an andat with the possibility of victory. The ending, when it comes, is both highly credible and yet searingly painful to read.

The final book, 'The Price of Spring', is a slightly slower read, perhaps, than its predecessor, but is even more powerful and moving. We see the final result of decisions made by the characters decades ago, and how these shape their lives and relationships. The focus is on the aftermath of the war, and how best to move forward. If nothing is done, both the Khaiem and the Galts will be destroyed. Otah's plan is to accept the world as it now is and unite the two nations in a bid to overcome their mutual problem. Maati's is to create an andat which will restore everything to the way it was before. The conflict between these ideas, and the consequences of them, form the core of the book, but as always it is built around the more intimate matters of love, family and friendship.

It is a joy to find a fantasy series which is tightly plotted from end to end, without a single unnecessary character or side story. The concept of the andat, ideas made manifest and brought under control, is utterly brilliant. The world itself is magnificently realised, particularly the poetically beautiful culture of the Khaiem, with their elegant robes, graceful poses and awe-inpiring cities. Abraham gives us enough detail to convey the flavour of each city - the food, the streets, the majestic palaces, the traditional etiquette and stifling formality, but we also see, if only briefly, the rougher but more dynamic society of the Galts, built on enterprise and technology.

There are many such dualities throughout the book - the relative roles and abilities of male and female, the stasis of tradition versus the constant change of initiative, duty versus love or family, authority versus instinct, selfishness or the greater good, and perhaps most of all, the acceptance of change versus the desire to go back to the past. The book raises many issues: does it matter if we are not entirely suited for the job we find ourselves doing? Is it enough simply to do the best we can? The importance of women. Should we always forgive a betrayal? Is forgiveness more important than vengence, and at what point does forgiveness become impossible? The power of words and ideas. How our own imperfections affect everything we do. And what to do about a useful tool which could also destroy the world in seconds.

These four books form a very profound work, one which rises far above the usual level of fantasy. Undoubtedly the themes it raises will be discussed in academic circles in years to come. Five stars.  [First written in February 2011]

Review: 'Shadow And Betrayal' by Daniel Abraham

This is actually a double book - the first two volumes of 'The Long Price' quartet, namely 'The Shadow of Summer' and 'A Betrayal in Winter'. The remaining two volumes, 'An Autumn War' and 'The Price of Spring', are combined into a second double book, 'Seasons of War'. The central conceit of the first book (and the only magic so far) is that after long training, poets are able to write a poem of such power that it can embody (literally) an idea. The idea then takes anthropomorphic form (called an andat), but bound to the will of the poet. The cities of the Khaiem then use these 'andat' beings to enhance trade and to deter invasions and avoid war.

In the first book, one of the powerful trading nations attempts to pervert this power in a way that would kill the poet and thereby release his andat, thus leaving the region undefended against invasion. The method used is quite complicated, and ultimately fails, and it seems to me that it would be far, far simpler just to kill the poet directly. He seems to move freely around the city, regularly getting drunk, so it would hardly be difficult, and far less risky than a public ceremony where there are bound to be recriminations. Since there seem to be very few poets with an andat (only one per city), it would surely not be too difficult to arrange a mass killing of poets, and release all the andat beings at once. And why, when the power of the Khaiem rests almost entirely on these few poets, are they free to do as they please, unrestrained and unprotected (quite apart from the unwisdom of letting the andat loose to brew his plots).

Logic flaws aside, the book is well written and absorbing. It is set in an eastern-esque world with a Japanese or perhaps ancient Chinese feel, with robes and teahouses and an intriguing use of 'poses' with the hands to add layers of meaning to spoken communication. The city of Saraykehm is nicely drawn, civilised and more or less orderly, a hub of trade and politics, and perfectly believable. I liked the idea of kilns and food carts on every street corner, the public bathhouses where much of the private discussions go on, and the beggars who sing for their charity, a nice echo of the elegant slave songs which are the backdrop for the Khai's courts.

The andat is actually the most interesting character, with his perfect form and his deeply flawed personality and his determination to defeat his creator and return to a state of 'unbeing', all a creation of the poet Heshai's own mind. The other characters behave with strange logic. Liat, who appears to be capable of loving two men at once without understanding the consequences (she thinks they will all be friends!), is quite unbelievable. Amat, who has such a horrible time held captive (essentially) in the brothel, yet chooses to buy it later purely to fund herself, is not particularly believable either.

By the end, I was finding it increasingly hard to suspend disbelief long enough to follow the story. Nevertheless, I enjoyed the book, and I hope that the second volume is a little more soundly based.

The second book of the series, 'The Betrayal of Winter', is a much more racy read than the first, moving along at a cracking pace. It focuses on the means of inheritance of the Khaiem (the three eldest sons compete for the right to inherit by killing their rivals, and all other sons are sent away to attempt to become poets, or be branded and live normal lives), and the action takes place in the northern city of Machi.

The central conspiracy which drives the plot is just as hare-brained as the one in the first book, but somehow the consequences of it are much more natural and therefore believable. The two main characters from the first book, Maati the poet and Otah/Itani the labourer, now a courier, are drawn into the political affairs of Otah's family in Machi, somewhat reluctantly. In both cases they resist being personally involved, but their past history and their own desire to do the right thing and protect the innocent drags them deeper in.

There are two significant new characters - Cehmai the poet at Machi, a young man who has successfully taken over the local andat from his predecessor, which underscores Maati's own failure in that respect, and Idaan, a daughter of the Khai, who resents her own unimportance in state affairs, since she is a woman. And there is a third character - the andat itself, Stone-Made-Soft, a very different personality from the acid intelligence of the previous book's Seedless, but just as resentful and resistant. The interplay between doing the things we are expected (or even forced) to do and what we truly want to do is one of the themes of the book.

So too is the idea of family, Otah's (and Idaan's) family which rejected him as an unwanted younger son and sees no value in her, and the family which Maati tried to have with his (and Otah's) lover Liat and failed. Then there is the fratricide which is essential by tradition to ensure a strong succession for the ruling family.

Much as in the first book, the plot is driven as much by people's mistakes and misunderstandings as by logical thought and decisive action. Sometimes they drift into situations, half awake, and sometimes they do the wrong thing or do the right thing badly, and sometimes they have to take huge risks because it is absolutely the right thing to do. But this time, the characters behave more believably, and the better pacing makes this a fine book. It speeds along at a cracking rate, quickly becoming an addictive page turner, and leads in very nicely to the next book in the series. [First written in February 2011]