The second part of the Riyria prequels. The first part, ‘The Crown
Tower’, was such riotously good entertainment that I gave it five stars.
This one... well, it starts badly. It’s nice finding out about Hilfrid,
a minor character with an important role in the main Riyria series, but
really, our introduction to him is a total cliché-a-thon. Hilfrid gets
bullied by the local youths. Hilfrid can’t defend himself. Hilfrid is
low-born. Hilfrid’s dad’s a drunk. Hilfrid is a bastard (oh, pur-lease,
as if anyone cared about that in the middle ages; and for anyone who
argues this is an alternative version of the middle ages, why impose
certain modern values on it?). Then there’s our lovely princess, the
thirteen year old Arista, already the wilfully spirited and rebellious
young lady we’ll come to know and love later (or not, in my case). And, a
credibility crisis; Arista is riding around the countryside in a purple
silk gown, the silk imported all the way from exotic Calis and given to
her as a birthday present. Really? Seriously?
But the second
chapter is the short story (‘The Viscount and the Witch’) which the
author made available some time back, here slotted into its rightful
sequence in events, wherein Royce and Hadrian, everybody's favourite
thieves, make their appearance, and from then on things look up. I'm
still not much enamoured of the Hilfrid story, or the dull infighting
between the nobles, but the rest of it is fun, although with a darker
edge at times. Anyone who’s familiar with the author’s work knows what
to expect - action all the way as our heroes face up to crisis after
crisis. Mr Sullivan is a master of intricate plotting, and even though
this is a relatively quick, easy read, there’s enough going on to keep
the reader enthralled and the pages turning.
This book doesn't
work quite as well as 'The Crown Tower'. It's tedious when the main
point of tension is that a character has been beaten up. Sure, these are
violent times, but it would be nice to have a little variety
(fortunately, the events surrounding Rose are much more creative).
There's a problem here, too, for those who've read the original Riyria
series: much of what happens and the reasons for it are already known.
This removes a great deal of the what-will-happen tension. With Hilfrid,
for example, as soon as it's obvious who he is, we know exactly what
the main crisis of the plot will be and how it will turn out. The
political subplot holds no surprises either, although there's some
nicely drawn irony. And - the biggest problem - the focus is frequently
off the two main characters. Royce and Hadrian are the stars of the
Riyria show, and the banter between them lights up the whole book, so
it's a disappointment to find so little of the two of them, and that
somewhat darker than might be expected.
I enjoyed this, on the
whole. For über-fans, there’s a lot of fun in seeing Arista, Alric,
Mauvin and Fanen as children, in seeing the whole royal family as they
once were, and in seeing the roots of the later machinations against the
throne. For newcomers - the book undoubtedly works as a stand-alone,
but there’s a whole lot of subtext that will just whizz by, which is a
pity. My real concern is that there are some ten more years to fill in
before the start of events in the main series, and undoubtedly there
will be pressure from fans for Mr Sullivan to sit down and write all
those books. It would be so easy; the characters already exist, much of
the plot already exists, the setting is there, so all he has to do is
weave his unique brand of magic and rustle up more entertaining Riyria
tales, and away you go. Lots of happy fans, and an income for life.
I
hope he doesn’t do that. Much as I enjoy reading about Royce and
Hadrian, I also enjoyed the author’s foray into sci-fi, ‘Hollow World’, a
much edgier and more interesting work, if a little uneven. So I know
his imagination is capable of writing about far more than a pair of
rogues. So maybe another Royce/Hadrian episode every few years, and in
between - something more challenging, please, Mr Sullivan. Four stars.
Showing posts with label sullivan. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sullivan. Show all posts
Sunday, 13 October 2013
Thursday, 5 September 2013
Fantasy Review: 'The Crown Tower' by Michael J Sullivan
Prequels are difficult. Fans already know everything that happens down
the line, so it’s hard to create enough tension and uncertainty (It’s a
battle! Will they survive??? Um, sure they will. Oh.). The characters
are established, but there has to be enough information for new readers
to follow along without boring the fans witless. It’s a tricky balancing
act, but Mr Sullivan pulls it off magnificently. I loved this book to
pieces, almost more than the original books (The Riyria Revelations), if
that isn’t too sacrilegious. It’s a fun, easy to read, exciting romp,
with the bonus of characters that have already had the benefit of
several books to become beautifully well-rounded.
The plot, in brief: our heroes, Royce the cold-blooded assassin/thief, and Hadrian the highly trained soldier weary of killing, are brought together by eccentric academic Arcadius for one seemingly impossible job. They have to steal a journal from the top of the Crown Tower, home of the main religious leader, and bring it to Arcadius to read. And the sticking point is that, even though Royce can do the job single-handed, they both have to go. The meat of the story lies in their mutual dislike and disrespect, and how they gradually learn to overcome both and reach a somewhat more amicable working relationship. This part of the book, as they undertake their impossible mission, sniping at each other every step of the way, is full of dramatic adventures, with an unexpected twist at every turn, but it is also sharply funny, and I loved every single minute of it. We get point of view chapters from both Hadrian and Royce, which adds to the tension, as we see clearly just how deeply they each dislike the other. It’s very cleverly done.
There is also a parallel story featuring Gwen, a downtrodden prostitute at the town of Medford. After one of the other girls is killed by a client who then simply pays off the brothel owner and the law, Gwen decides to set up her own brothel, with better working conditions. I’ve always liked Gwen, but she was a background character in the Revelations trilogy, albeit an important one, and I wished I knew more about her. Finding out something about her history and her ‘gift’ was interesting. However, at first I wondered just how exciting it was going to be reading about how she sets up her new business. Gwen goes shopping. Gwen deals with a smoking chimney. Gwen gets some carpentry done. Gwen applies for a permit. Hmm. But Gwen is a smart and resourceful lady, and I loved her clever ways of getting things done. I enjoyed finding out more about her gift, as well, and even though it sometimes felt a bit too convenient for the plot, there were some nicely chilling moments. In the end, the two parallel and seemingly disconnected stories (Royce/Hadrian and Gwen) collided in the most satisfying way imaginable, and even after that there’s a neat little twist at the end, which was fun.
I recently read the author’s venture into science fiction, ‘Hollow World’, which is a very different animal. There’s the same pacy action and array of fascinating characters, but there are also a thousand different ideas jumping up and down for attention, making it a deeply thought-provoking work. ‘The Crown Tower’ is pure entertainment and not ideas-driven, although there are some sharp asides tossed out along the way for those who notice them to savour, but what both share is the author’s trademark attention to detail in plot and character which make him such a joy to read. This is a perfectly judged story which works fine for newcomers, but also supplies some delightful moments for fans of the main series too. Mr Sullivan is a master story-teller writing at the top of his game. I enjoyed this so much I can’t possibly give it anything less than five stars.
The plot, in brief: our heroes, Royce the cold-blooded assassin/thief, and Hadrian the highly trained soldier weary of killing, are brought together by eccentric academic Arcadius for one seemingly impossible job. They have to steal a journal from the top of the Crown Tower, home of the main religious leader, and bring it to Arcadius to read. And the sticking point is that, even though Royce can do the job single-handed, they both have to go. The meat of the story lies in their mutual dislike and disrespect, and how they gradually learn to overcome both and reach a somewhat more amicable working relationship. This part of the book, as they undertake their impossible mission, sniping at each other every step of the way, is full of dramatic adventures, with an unexpected twist at every turn, but it is also sharply funny, and I loved every single minute of it. We get point of view chapters from both Hadrian and Royce, which adds to the tension, as we see clearly just how deeply they each dislike the other. It’s very cleverly done.
There is also a parallel story featuring Gwen, a downtrodden prostitute at the town of Medford. After one of the other girls is killed by a client who then simply pays off the brothel owner and the law, Gwen decides to set up her own brothel, with better working conditions. I’ve always liked Gwen, but she was a background character in the Revelations trilogy, albeit an important one, and I wished I knew more about her. Finding out something about her history and her ‘gift’ was interesting. However, at first I wondered just how exciting it was going to be reading about how she sets up her new business. Gwen goes shopping. Gwen deals with a smoking chimney. Gwen gets some carpentry done. Gwen applies for a permit. Hmm. But Gwen is a smart and resourceful lady, and I loved her clever ways of getting things done. I enjoyed finding out more about her gift, as well, and even though it sometimes felt a bit too convenient for the plot, there were some nicely chilling moments. In the end, the two parallel and seemingly disconnected stories (Royce/Hadrian and Gwen) collided in the most satisfying way imaginable, and even after that there’s a neat little twist at the end, which was fun.
I recently read the author’s venture into science fiction, ‘Hollow World’, which is a very different animal. There’s the same pacy action and array of fascinating characters, but there are also a thousand different ideas jumping up and down for attention, making it a deeply thought-provoking work. ‘The Crown Tower’ is pure entertainment and not ideas-driven, although there are some sharp asides tossed out along the way for those who notice them to savour, but what both share is the author’s trademark attention to detail in plot and character which make him such a joy to read. This is a perfectly judged story which works fine for newcomers, but also supplies some delightful moments for fans of the main series too. Mr Sullivan is a master story-teller writing at the top of his game. I enjoyed this so much I can’t possibly give it anything less than five stars.
Thursday, 22 August 2013
Sci-Fi Review: 'Hollow World' by Michael J Sullivan
This is a break away from fantasy for the author, but not very far. It’s
technically science fiction - a guy builds a time machine in his
Detroit garage, and after a diagnosis of terminal cancer he decides he
has nothing to lose by trying it out. He sets things up for a jump two
hundred years into the future, where, if he’s really lucky and survives
the jump at all, there may be a cure. But - oops, slight miscalculation,
and here we are two thousand years on. There’s a certain amount of
arm-waving about quantum this and that, but the sciencey bits are not
what this is all about. To be honest, it felt a lot like a portal story,
where an ordinary joe from the present day finds himself in - well,
alternate universe, past, future, whatever. So I’d say it’s as much
fantasy as science fiction.
The future the author draws for the reader is an interesting one. Humans have abandoned the surface of the planet altogether after a series of ecological disasters destabilised everything, and now live in the Hollow World of the title, giant caverns using advanced technology to recreate a pseudo-earth environment. Given the ability to create pretty much everything they need, people fill their days with art, or entertainment, travelling through portals or - well, whatever they want to do. They are also immortal, and virtually everyone is build to a universal genderless pattern, the only way to distinguish one individual from another being a chip embedded in one shoulder. Again, there’s a certain amount of arm-waving over the science, but it worked perfectly well for me.
If the science isn’t a big part of the story, the author brings his traditional strengths to bear - compelling characters and an action-packed roller-coaster of a ride that leaves you on the edge of your seat. There are murders and mysterious people who are trying to kill our hero, a renegade setting himself up as a cult leader, a conspiracy and finally a big world-ending threat that has to be tackled head on because the clock is ticking... There were moments when I had to put the book down momentarily to remind myself to breathe.
As for the characters, there’s only one who matters - Pax, the genderless future-person, one of millions of identical people, who nevertheless turns out to be very much an individual. You wouldn’t think it possible for a clone (and that’s essentially what he is) to be differentiated from his/her/its compatriots, but Pax is one of those characters who just leaps off the page, larger than life and quite unforgettable. Because he’s neither male nor female, almost everything he does, or rather the way he does it, calls into question our own attitudes to the two genders. Just writing this paragraph underlines the difficulty - I’ve resorted to called Pax ‘he’ by default, andhe Pax isn’t either he or she.
It’s a testament to Mr Sullivan’s writing skill that he (definitely a
he! even without the famous moustache, now sadly consigned to history)
side-steps the issue so deftly. I don’t think he ever uses a gendered
pronoun for any of the Hollow World residents. I’ll admit to not being
too sure about Pax to start with (we do like to put everyone in boxes,
and you just can’t with Pax), but by the mid-point Pax was definitely my
favourite character.
The rest of the characters, even our time travelling hero himself, Ellis, seem a bit grey and dull by comparison. His pal Warren is something of a caricature, his wife Peggy never gets a chance to shine, and few of the Hollow World residents stand out (Sol, maybe, and the AI vox Alva, with an honourable mention for the Geomancers - I loved their yay! a crisis! attitude). It’s not at all that they’re poorly drawn (they’re mostly great characters and in other circumstances I’d be raving about them), they only seem slightly flat by comparison with Pax, who is the truehero star of the show.
The real joy of ‘Hollow World’ is the many themes that weave through every page of it. Themes like gender, the purpose of religion, what God is, traditionalism versus modernism, immortality, individualism, the nature of insanity, the meaning of love and a thousand more. It may sound churlish to complain, because too much SFF writing these days is lightweight, but in some ways there are almost too many layers of meaning here, too many themes crammed in. Then there were points where a character would declaim at some length about a certain philosophy, which is perhaps an unsubtle approach. But the author never beats us over the head with his own take on it. He simply allows his characters to express their own point of view and leaves it up to the reader to make up his/her (aargh!) mind.
This is a clever and thought-provoking story, with loads of interesting ideas, some adrenalin-pumping action and plenty of humour. It took a little while to get going (the real world is always duller than an imaginary one), and some of Warren’s diatribes sagged a bit, but overall an entertaining read with Pax being one of my favourite characters of the year. A good four stars.
The future the author draws for the reader is an interesting one. Humans have abandoned the surface of the planet altogether after a series of ecological disasters destabilised everything, and now live in the Hollow World of the title, giant caverns using advanced technology to recreate a pseudo-earth environment. Given the ability to create pretty much everything they need, people fill their days with art, or entertainment, travelling through portals or - well, whatever they want to do. They are also immortal, and virtually everyone is build to a universal genderless pattern, the only way to distinguish one individual from another being a chip embedded in one shoulder. Again, there’s a certain amount of arm-waving over the science, but it worked perfectly well for me.
If the science isn’t a big part of the story, the author brings his traditional strengths to bear - compelling characters and an action-packed roller-coaster of a ride that leaves you on the edge of your seat. There are murders and mysterious people who are trying to kill our hero, a renegade setting himself up as a cult leader, a conspiracy and finally a big world-ending threat that has to be tackled head on because the clock is ticking... There were moments when I had to put the book down momentarily to remind myself to breathe.
As for the characters, there’s only one who matters - Pax, the genderless future-person, one of millions of identical people, who nevertheless turns out to be very much an individual. You wouldn’t think it possible for a clone (and that’s essentially what he is) to be differentiated from his/her/its compatriots, but Pax is one of those characters who just leaps off the page, larger than life and quite unforgettable. Because he’s neither male nor female, almost everything he does, or rather the way he does it, calls into question our own attitudes to the two genders. Just writing this paragraph underlines the difficulty - I’ve resorted to called Pax ‘he’ by default, and
The rest of the characters, even our time travelling hero himself, Ellis, seem a bit grey and dull by comparison. His pal Warren is something of a caricature, his wife Peggy never gets a chance to shine, and few of the Hollow World residents stand out (Sol, maybe, and the AI vox Alva, with an honourable mention for the Geomancers - I loved their yay! a crisis! attitude). It’s not at all that they’re poorly drawn (they’re mostly great characters and in other circumstances I’d be raving about them), they only seem slightly flat by comparison with Pax, who is the true
The real joy of ‘Hollow World’ is the many themes that weave through every page of it. Themes like gender, the purpose of religion, what God is, traditionalism versus modernism, immortality, individualism, the nature of insanity, the meaning of love and a thousand more. It may sound churlish to complain, because too much SFF writing these days is lightweight, but in some ways there are almost too many layers of meaning here, too many themes crammed in. Then there were points where a character would declaim at some length about a certain philosophy, which is perhaps an unsubtle approach. But the author never beats us over the head with his own take on it. He simply allows his characters to express their own point of view and leaves it up to the reader to make up his/her (aargh!) mind.
This is a clever and thought-provoking story, with loads of interesting ideas, some adrenalin-pumping action and plenty of humour. It took a little while to get going (the real world is always duller than an imaginary one), and some of Warren’s diatribes sagged a bit, but overall an entertaining read with Pax being one of my favourite characters of the year. A good four stars.
Sunday, 26 August 2012
SciFi Review: 'Greener Grass' by Michael J Sullivan
This is a science fiction short story, a very different animal from the
author's usual epic fantasy. It has all his trademark humour,
fortunately (I love a book which makes me laugh), and is satisfyingly
sharp and snappy, with a neat twist at the end, as required by all
self-respecting short stories. It's also deeply thought-provoking and
unsettling. I can't say much more without giving away the surprise, but
the old adage 'be careful what you wish for' comes to mind. How the
reader interprets it says as much about them as about the story itself,
to be honest. A very interesting piece of writing. I'm not sure it has
the legs to be expanded to novel-length, but it works very well in this
format. Four stars.
Thursday, 2 February 2012
Series Review: 'The Riyria Revelations' by Michael J Sullivan
This is a review of the entire series, originally published as six books: 'The Crown Conspiracy', 'Avempartha', 'Nyphron Rising', 'The Emerald Storm', 'Wintertide' and 'Percepliquis'. Now republished in three volumes as: 'Theft of Swords', 'Rise of Empire' and 'Heir of Novron'. There is also a free short story prequel: 'The Viscount and the Witch'. The author is now writing a series of novel-length prequels.
Many spoilers below - don't read on if you haven't read the whole series.
I have something of a love/hate relationship with Michael J Sullivan (not at a personal level, I hasten to add, I've never met the man). His Riyria series was one of my earliest introductions to self-published ebooks, and taught me that you definitely don't have to be with a mainstream publisher to be any good. Not great literature, but easy to read, entertaining and riotously funny - what's not to like? I was steadily working my way through the six-book series, which got better and better, when it was picked up by a big name house, and publication of the final book of the series was delayed. I was pacing myself with this delay in mind, and, having read the first four books, I decided it was time to buy the fifth, only to find - nothing. All the ebooks had been pulled, ready for the big re-release. Damn. Should have paid more attention. So annoying.
But then the author released a free short prequel (which was nice), and since he writes the best blog I've ever come across, with a self-effacing manner and a truly wonderful sense of humour, I forgive him. For those who had bought all five previously published books, he made sure that they could get the sixth in matching format, which is totally cool. He's very good at connecting with his readers and participating in online discussion groups, and sometimes that veers into over-enthusiastic self-promotion, but that's just part of the digital age, I suppose.
The Riyria series has been billed as a return to traditional fantasy, adult books but without swearing or graphic sex, with each book readable on its own while nevertheless having an overarching story. So how well does it measure up? Well, there's certainly no swearing or sex, but there is some violence (that's unavoidable in this type of story), and there is an attempted rape in 'Avempartha', plenty of implied sex and plenty of whores, too. So adult reading, yes, but it works well as young adult too. And while you could, I suppose, read any of the books on their own, they make most sense read together in the proper sequence.
The traditional fantasy aspect is a problem for me, because almost invariably it means a pseudo-medieval setting with all the usual baggage - kings, knights, castles, tournaments, mud-bespattered and stupid peasants grubbing round in the dirt, ragged urchins in the towns picking pockets, a few wizards, elves, goblins and dwarves in the background, and women reduced to a handful of minor roles - princess, whore, serving wench and (if she's lucky) warrior babe. Sullivan has bought into this wholesale, and I suppose I shouldn't compain, since so many other authors do the same. Tolkien set the standard here, after all. But it is tired and clichéd and (frankly) lazy.
In a few ways, Sullivan has added his own touches. For most of the series elves are sad half-breeds, enslaved and badly treated and eventually exterminated, and the only dwarf is a total scumbag. And there are some fabulous magical places - Gutaria, the enchanted wizard prison, Avempartha, the exquisite elven tower, and Drumindor, the dwarf-built tower on a volcano. Some of the fringes of the created world, like Dagastan and Calis, are well-drawn, too. But the legendary lost city of Percepliquis was a disappointment to me.
The magic system is unoriginal, too. A wizard waves his hands in the air and harnesses natural forces to achieve his spells, and there seems to be no limit to this. That's about it. Fortunately, the story never devolves to the level of wizards hurling thunderbolts at each other, which would have been tediously uninteresting. Magic is used sparingly, and is generally a surprise when it appears.
The characters all fall into stereotyped roles - warrior, princess, thief, whore and so on - and in the early books they had little depth, but over time the main characters developed more rounded personalities. Royce, in particular, is a complex and fascinating character, and I think it was essential to see him at his rawest and worst, immediately after Gwen's death, to realise just how far he had come over the course of the story and understand just how low he could fall, left to himself. We were repeatedly told how dangerous he was, but that was the moment when we actually saw it. Hadrian is a much simpler person, with a touching faith in the innate goodness of people. Very likeable, and the two make a great team. The joking between them is one of the highlights of the books (far too much fantasy is overly serious). I loved the way they worked together seamlessly (climbing out of the well back to back, for instance, or instinctively watching each other's backs while meeting the Diamond on the bridge at Colnora). But I also liked their very different personalities: when they meet the Diamond at the inn, Royce remains motionless, alert, while Hadrian ambles round the room eating walnuts.
The other characters work less well. I loved Myron's innocence, but I simply didn't believe he could know so little of the world after all his reading and living at an abbey frequented by travellers, and I found him unconvincing as a philosopher guiding Royce through his darker moments. The rest are fairly one dimensional, even after six books: Alric the whiny aristocrat, Mauvin the warrior, Degan the prat, Magnus the grumpy stonesmith, Archie the fool and so on. That doesn't make them uninteresting, it just means they aren't emotionally engaging.
I have to mention the four main female characters: Arista, Thrace/Modina, Amilia and Gwen. I didn't notice it the first time through, but rereading the first four books while waiting for the release of the last two has highlighted for me just how depressingly caricatured and helpless they were. Maybe it's because in the interim I read several books where women were just as competent and realistic as their male counterparts, but this time through it just jumped out at me. Gwen is the classic good-hearted whore. She was an independent woman who ran several successful businesses, but ultimately her role was to be loved by a man, and be the mother of his daughter. Oh, and to make prophecies so that the plot could progress. And Amilia never really progressed beyond downtrodden servant, and love interest for a man. She certainly never developed any self-confidence.
Thrace/Modina made the leap from peasant girl to empress, but to be honest, I never really found it totally convincing. In 'Avempartha' she is sent off by Esrahaddon to find Royce and Hadrian, where she promptly falls victim to a potential rapist and has to be rescued. She then spends most of the book being silly, doing stupid things, running round shouting 'Daddy, Daddy!', getting captured and having to be rescued. She has a moment of lucidity when she takes the sword hilt, but actually killing the beastie seems to be more by accident than design. She spends the whole of 'Nyphron Rising' in a state of catatonia. She is only marginally better in 'Emerald Storm' and 'Wintertide', and now she's suicidal too. It's only the arrival of Mince with Esrahaddon's cloak that knocks her out of her depression. Was it Mince's words which did the trick, or the magic cloak? No idea, but I prefer to think it was the cloak, since surely only magic could explain her otherwise miraculous transformation into serene (and sane) empress.
Then there was Arista. Now, in one sense I liked how she turned out. Her final incarnation, as a regular human being rather than a haughty princess, was nicely believable. But the way she got there was to be manipulated, captured, rescued, dragged around the countryside, captured again, rescued again, and finally (just in case we suspected she was acting independently for once) to carry out Esrahaddon's last instructions. Oh, and then she became love interest and motivation for a man. Even though she was a powerful wizardess in her own right by then, at the final confrontation it was men with swords (and twirly knife things) who fought for the survival of mankind, while she stood on the sidelines wailing 'Oh Hadrian!', and waiting to be called upon to bring Royce back to life.
Now it may seem churlish to grumble about this. It's no more than almost every other fantasy writer does, after all, and it was Tolkien, bless him, who started the rot by making Arwen no more than Aragorn's reward, and even Eowyn only became the kickass warrior babe in despair after falling for the unattainable hero. And yes, Modina made a great empress and Arista was pretty useful in a crisis. I just wish they hadn't been so helpless along the way. Of course the men had their moments of being manipulated and having to be rescued, too, but they still came across as independent people, and as often as not they got themselves out of trouble. Only very rarely were they there mainly to act as motivation and love interest (Sir Breckton, maybe).
There's one last character I should mention: Nimbus. The whole Kile story was flagged up so many times that I should have seen it coming, but I didn't and it was a lovely moment. I'm not a fan of gods taking an active role in fantasy, they're just too powerful, but this was a beautifully elegant way to say, yes, there are gods in this world, but their interference can be a good thing. Very subtly done.
The six books all had plots which, while part of the overarching framework, were still workable as stand-alone reads, and the author pulled this off pretty well, I think. The individual plots were fairly flimsy affairs, on the whole, and some of them were actually quite silly, but they worked as entertaining capers. But when you get to 'Percepliquis', the final book, it becomes possible to see the story as a whole, and here the author's talent shines through. It takes a great deal of skill to write six books which weave together into a satisfying and united whole, without loose ends or forced motivations or sleight of hand, and Sullivan not only achieves this brilliantly, he also manages to leave open the central mystery (the identity of the true Heir of Novron) until the last possible moment. This is an impressive feat.
'Percepliquis' itself is, in many ways, the archetypal fantasy story: the quest to find a magical gizmo to save the world. The ten questers were a fairly motley crew, and some of them seemed to be there just to make up the numbers. I have to say, for a lost city, Percepliquis was remarkably easy to find, but then Sullivan has never been one to spin out a story, thankfully. The highlight of the journey was the tetchiness infecting virtually all the participants. Royce and Magnus are grumpy by nature, Alric and Arista had an outbreak of sibling rivalry, and Degan was an ass, as he has been from the start. And even the even-tempered Hadrian bopped Degan on the nose (a wonderful moment). Only Myron rose unflappably above the sniping. I liked the author's skilful pacing over the journey (and the whole book, really). The moments of high drama are masterfully interspersed with thoughtful passages, comic relief, gentle romance, simple description and, sometimes, despair. Beautifully done. And the challenge at the end is absolutely perfect.
The sixth book is full of twists and big reveals, and I have to confess to guessing most of them ahead of time. I didn't anticipate that Novron was an elf (but it makes perfect sense), and I definitely didn't suspect Arcadius of killing Gwen, but I marked Royce as (possibly) the heir the moment Mercy was revealed as an heir, I worked out the Patriarch's anagram and I knew Thranic would turn up. And as one piece after another fell into place, and the overall picture came into focus, it became clear just how cleverly plotted the story was.
Looking back at the complete series, Sullivan himself has said that he thinks the whole is greater than the sum of the parts, and I would agree with that. Each book revealed a little of the picture, but only when the whole of it is visible is it possible to see how everything works together - the elves, Novron, the Nyphron church, Esrahaddon, the Patriarch, Royce, Gwen, Hadrian, Arcadius, the whole enchilada. It's like one of those ingenious three dimensional puzzles that looks impossible until you push and twist just right, and everything falls into place. Of course, it's perfectly possible to read the books just as entertaining stories and not worry about the big picture, but it's a lot more fun to try to work it out for yourself. And the final book is just mystery heaped upon secret wrapped in enigma.
Reviewing some of the earlier books, I was moderately critical of Sullivan's writing. There were typos and clunky dialogue and poor grammar and Americanisms, none of which matter much unless you notice them, but I did. On rereading, I noticed them less, and it also became clear how much the writing improved over the course of the series. He'll probably never have the poetic flow of (say) Rothfuss, or the over-the-top gloriousness of (say) Martin, but he has a style of his own, which works fine for this type of story. In 'Percepliquis' the writing was so much more confident that it pulled off all the complexities of the finale - the deeper notes, the romantic interludes, the archaic language, the poems, the dreams - with barely a jarring note.
Sullivan has given his readers something special: a story which works at multiple different levels. He has achieved his aim to produce clean traditional fantasy which is enjoyable and entertaining, while also providing a more complex puzzle for those who want it. The two main characters and their relationship, and particularly Royce and his distorted view of the world, provide a deeper layer of interest. Some memorable highlights from the whole series: Gutaria, Avempartha, Drumindor; Royce and Hadrian climbing out of the well, standing back to back on the bridge meeting the Diamond at Colnora, meeting the Diamond (again) at the inn; Alric charging the gates of Medford, Alric rescuing Arista, Lenare spitting Luis Guy; Myron mystified by his sister, Hadrian bopping Degan, Royce using Gilly to escape from the tomb. And the unforgettable: Royce going ballistic after Gwen's death. And a special mention for best performance by an inanimate object: Esrahaddon's cloak.
But I think Sullivan has achieved something more. He was one of the first to turn to self-publishing and actually make it profitable, by tirelessly working to promote his books and, of course, by having worthwhile material to sell. He then successfully transferred back to traditional publishing, thereby proving that the two systems can peacefully co-exist and support each other. He is one of the new breed of author, who has reached out directly to his audience and built a personal connection, and he's still doing that despite the new publishing deal. Of course, all of this attracts a certain amount of venom from some quarters - the pro-indie set who hate him for selling out, and the anti-indie set who hate him for making a success of going it alone. I hope he won't let that bother him. I hope he continues to write at this level, that he continues to be the same down-to-earth, self-effacing person, that he continues to be successful. But even if he doesn't write another thing, he has left a worthy legacy behind him: six books which make one terrific story, and an inspiration for all aspiring writers.
Many spoilers below - don't read on if you haven't read the whole series.
I have something of a love/hate relationship with Michael J Sullivan (not at a personal level, I hasten to add, I've never met the man). His Riyria series was one of my earliest introductions to self-published ebooks, and taught me that you definitely don't have to be with a mainstream publisher to be any good. Not great literature, but easy to read, entertaining and riotously funny - what's not to like? I was steadily working my way through the six-book series, which got better and better, when it was picked up by a big name house, and publication of the final book of the series was delayed. I was pacing myself with this delay in mind, and, having read the first four books, I decided it was time to buy the fifth, only to find - nothing. All the ebooks had been pulled, ready for the big re-release. Damn. Should have paid more attention. So annoying.
But then the author released a free short prequel (which was nice), and since he writes the best blog I've ever come across, with a self-effacing manner and a truly wonderful sense of humour, I forgive him. For those who had bought all five previously published books, he made sure that they could get the sixth in matching format, which is totally cool. He's very good at connecting with his readers and participating in online discussion groups, and sometimes that veers into over-enthusiastic self-promotion, but that's just part of the digital age, I suppose.
The Riyria series has been billed as a return to traditional fantasy, adult books but without swearing or graphic sex, with each book readable on its own while nevertheless having an overarching story. So how well does it measure up? Well, there's certainly no swearing or sex, but there is some violence (that's unavoidable in this type of story), and there is an attempted rape in 'Avempartha', plenty of implied sex and plenty of whores, too. So adult reading, yes, but it works well as young adult too. And while you could, I suppose, read any of the books on their own, they make most sense read together in the proper sequence.
The traditional fantasy aspect is a problem for me, because almost invariably it means a pseudo-medieval setting with all the usual baggage - kings, knights, castles, tournaments, mud-bespattered and stupid peasants grubbing round in the dirt, ragged urchins in the towns picking pockets, a few wizards, elves, goblins and dwarves in the background, and women reduced to a handful of minor roles - princess, whore, serving wench and (if she's lucky) warrior babe. Sullivan has bought into this wholesale, and I suppose I shouldn't compain, since so many other authors do the same. Tolkien set the standard here, after all. But it is tired and clichéd and (frankly) lazy.
In a few ways, Sullivan has added his own touches. For most of the series elves are sad half-breeds, enslaved and badly treated and eventually exterminated, and the only dwarf is a total scumbag. And there are some fabulous magical places - Gutaria, the enchanted wizard prison, Avempartha, the exquisite elven tower, and Drumindor, the dwarf-built tower on a volcano. Some of the fringes of the created world, like Dagastan and Calis, are well-drawn, too. But the legendary lost city of Percepliquis was a disappointment to me.
The magic system is unoriginal, too. A wizard waves his hands in the air and harnesses natural forces to achieve his spells, and there seems to be no limit to this. That's about it. Fortunately, the story never devolves to the level of wizards hurling thunderbolts at each other, which would have been tediously uninteresting. Magic is used sparingly, and is generally a surprise when it appears.
The characters all fall into stereotyped roles - warrior, princess, thief, whore and so on - and in the early books they had little depth, but over time the main characters developed more rounded personalities. Royce, in particular, is a complex and fascinating character, and I think it was essential to see him at his rawest and worst, immediately after Gwen's death, to realise just how far he had come over the course of the story and understand just how low he could fall, left to himself. We were repeatedly told how dangerous he was, but that was the moment when we actually saw it. Hadrian is a much simpler person, with a touching faith in the innate goodness of people. Very likeable, and the two make a great team. The joking between them is one of the highlights of the books (far too much fantasy is overly serious). I loved the way they worked together seamlessly (climbing out of the well back to back, for instance, or instinctively watching each other's backs while meeting the Diamond on the bridge at Colnora). But I also liked their very different personalities: when they meet the Diamond at the inn, Royce remains motionless, alert, while Hadrian ambles round the room eating walnuts.
The other characters work less well. I loved Myron's innocence, but I simply didn't believe he could know so little of the world after all his reading and living at an abbey frequented by travellers, and I found him unconvincing as a philosopher guiding Royce through his darker moments. The rest are fairly one dimensional, even after six books: Alric the whiny aristocrat, Mauvin the warrior, Degan the prat, Magnus the grumpy stonesmith, Archie the fool and so on. That doesn't make them uninteresting, it just means they aren't emotionally engaging.
I have to mention the four main female characters: Arista, Thrace/Modina, Amilia and Gwen. I didn't notice it the first time through, but rereading the first four books while waiting for the release of the last two has highlighted for me just how depressingly caricatured and helpless they were. Maybe it's because in the interim I read several books where women were just as competent and realistic as their male counterparts, but this time through it just jumped out at me. Gwen is the classic good-hearted whore. She was an independent woman who ran several successful businesses, but ultimately her role was to be loved by a man, and be the mother of his daughter. Oh, and to make prophecies so that the plot could progress. And Amilia never really progressed beyond downtrodden servant, and love interest for a man. She certainly never developed any self-confidence.
Thrace/Modina made the leap from peasant girl to empress, but to be honest, I never really found it totally convincing. In 'Avempartha' she is sent off by Esrahaddon to find Royce and Hadrian, where she promptly falls victim to a potential rapist and has to be rescued. She then spends most of the book being silly, doing stupid things, running round shouting 'Daddy, Daddy!', getting captured and having to be rescued. She has a moment of lucidity when she takes the sword hilt, but actually killing the beastie seems to be more by accident than design. She spends the whole of 'Nyphron Rising' in a state of catatonia. She is only marginally better in 'Emerald Storm' and 'Wintertide', and now she's suicidal too. It's only the arrival of Mince with Esrahaddon's cloak that knocks her out of her depression. Was it Mince's words which did the trick, or the magic cloak? No idea, but I prefer to think it was the cloak, since surely only magic could explain her otherwise miraculous transformation into serene (and sane) empress.
Then there was Arista. Now, in one sense I liked how she turned out. Her final incarnation, as a regular human being rather than a haughty princess, was nicely believable. But the way she got there was to be manipulated, captured, rescued, dragged around the countryside, captured again, rescued again, and finally (just in case we suspected she was acting independently for once) to carry out Esrahaddon's last instructions. Oh, and then she became love interest and motivation for a man. Even though she was a powerful wizardess in her own right by then, at the final confrontation it was men with swords (and twirly knife things) who fought for the survival of mankind, while she stood on the sidelines wailing 'Oh Hadrian!', and waiting to be called upon to bring Royce back to life.
Now it may seem churlish to grumble about this. It's no more than almost every other fantasy writer does, after all, and it was Tolkien, bless him, who started the rot by making Arwen no more than Aragorn's reward, and even Eowyn only became the kickass warrior babe in despair after falling for the unattainable hero. And yes, Modina made a great empress and Arista was pretty useful in a crisis. I just wish they hadn't been so helpless along the way. Of course the men had their moments of being manipulated and having to be rescued, too, but they still came across as independent people, and as often as not they got themselves out of trouble. Only very rarely were they there mainly to act as motivation and love interest (Sir Breckton, maybe).
There's one last character I should mention: Nimbus. The whole Kile story was flagged up so many times that I should have seen it coming, but I didn't and it was a lovely moment. I'm not a fan of gods taking an active role in fantasy, they're just too powerful, but this was a beautifully elegant way to say, yes, there are gods in this world, but their interference can be a good thing. Very subtly done.
The six books all had plots which, while part of the overarching framework, were still workable as stand-alone reads, and the author pulled this off pretty well, I think. The individual plots were fairly flimsy affairs, on the whole, and some of them were actually quite silly, but they worked as entertaining capers. But when you get to 'Percepliquis', the final book, it becomes possible to see the story as a whole, and here the author's talent shines through. It takes a great deal of skill to write six books which weave together into a satisfying and united whole, without loose ends or forced motivations or sleight of hand, and Sullivan not only achieves this brilliantly, he also manages to leave open the central mystery (the identity of the true Heir of Novron) until the last possible moment. This is an impressive feat.
'Percepliquis' itself is, in many ways, the archetypal fantasy story: the quest to find a magical gizmo to save the world. The ten questers were a fairly motley crew, and some of them seemed to be there just to make up the numbers. I have to say, for a lost city, Percepliquis was remarkably easy to find, but then Sullivan has never been one to spin out a story, thankfully. The highlight of the journey was the tetchiness infecting virtually all the participants. Royce and Magnus are grumpy by nature, Alric and Arista had an outbreak of sibling rivalry, and Degan was an ass, as he has been from the start. And even the even-tempered Hadrian bopped Degan on the nose (a wonderful moment). Only Myron rose unflappably above the sniping. I liked the author's skilful pacing over the journey (and the whole book, really). The moments of high drama are masterfully interspersed with thoughtful passages, comic relief, gentle romance, simple description and, sometimes, despair. Beautifully done. And the challenge at the end is absolutely perfect.
The sixth book is full of twists and big reveals, and I have to confess to guessing most of them ahead of time. I didn't anticipate that Novron was an elf (but it makes perfect sense), and I definitely didn't suspect Arcadius of killing Gwen, but I marked Royce as (possibly) the heir the moment Mercy was revealed as an heir, I worked out the Patriarch's anagram and I knew Thranic would turn up. And as one piece after another fell into place, and the overall picture came into focus, it became clear just how cleverly plotted the story was.
Looking back at the complete series, Sullivan himself has said that he thinks the whole is greater than the sum of the parts, and I would agree with that. Each book revealed a little of the picture, but only when the whole of it is visible is it possible to see how everything works together - the elves, Novron, the Nyphron church, Esrahaddon, the Patriarch, Royce, Gwen, Hadrian, Arcadius, the whole enchilada. It's like one of those ingenious three dimensional puzzles that looks impossible until you push and twist just right, and everything falls into place. Of course, it's perfectly possible to read the books just as entertaining stories and not worry about the big picture, but it's a lot more fun to try to work it out for yourself. And the final book is just mystery heaped upon secret wrapped in enigma.
Reviewing some of the earlier books, I was moderately critical of Sullivan's writing. There were typos and clunky dialogue and poor grammar and Americanisms, none of which matter much unless you notice them, but I did. On rereading, I noticed them less, and it also became clear how much the writing improved over the course of the series. He'll probably never have the poetic flow of (say) Rothfuss, or the over-the-top gloriousness of (say) Martin, but he has a style of his own, which works fine for this type of story. In 'Percepliquis' the writing was so much more confident that it pulled off all the complexities of the finale - the deeper notes, the romantic interludes, the archaic language, the poems, the dreams - with barely a jarring note.
Sullivan has given his readers something special: a story which works at multiple different levels. He has achieved his aim to produce clean traditional fantasy which is enjoyable and entertaining, while also providing a more complex puzzle for those who want it. The two main characters and their relationship, and particularly Royce and his distorted view of the world, provide a deeper layer of interest. Some memorable highlights from the whole series: Gutaria, Avempartha, Drumindor; Royce and Hadrian climbing out of the well, standing back to back on the bridge meeting the Diamond at Colnora, meeting the Diamond (again) at the inn; Alric charging the gates of Medford, Alric rescuing Arista, Lenare spitting Luis Guy; Myron mystified by his sister, Hadrian bopping Degan, Royce using Gilly to escape from the tomb. And the unforgettable: Royce going ballistic after Gwen's death. And a special mention for best performance by an inanimate object: Esrahaddon's cloak.
But I think Sullivan has achieved something more. He was one of the first to turn to self-publishing and actually make it profitable, by tirelessly working to promote his books and, of course, by having worthwhile material to sell. He then successfully transferred back to traditional publishing, thereby proving that the two systems can peacefully co-exist and support each other. He is one of the new breed of author, who has reached out directly to his audience and built a personal connection, and he's still doing that despite the new publishing deal. Of course, all of this attracts a certain amount of venom from some quarters - the pro-indie set who hate him for selling out, and the anti-indie set who hate him for making a success of going it alone. I hope he won't let that bother him. I hope he continues to write at this level, that he continues to be the same down-to-earth, self-effacing person, that he continues to be successful. But even if he doesn't write another thing, he has left a worthy legacy behind him: six books which make one terrific story, and an inspiration for all aspiring writers.
Wednesday, 1 February 2012
Review: 'Percepliquis' by Michael J Sullivan
It's always special when you reach the end of a series, particularly one which was planned from the start, rather than growing organically. The mysteries will make sense, questions will be answered, characters will receive their dues and loose ends will be tied up, or so one hopes. And on the downside, it's likely some characters will die, perhaps even major ones, and it's always possible the ending will ruin the whole series. Fortunately, Sullivan ends on a high note. There are serious moments (but then the future of mankind is at stake), but he avoids the temptation to get too heavy or preachy, keeps the humour rolling and throws in some nice twists, although the ending is rather simplistic and overly sentimental.
Percepliquis pulls together virtually all the main characters into one questing group - a Fellowship of the Horn, as it were. Some of them didn't seem like main characters before, and I'm not sure they were all necessary to the outcome, but they have all been around pretty much from the start of the series. As with all six of the books, the plot of this one is fairly stand-alone, even though much of it builds on what has gone before. And as with them all, it's not always clear at the time who is manipulating events and who is acting under false pretences. Things are never quite what they seem. I can't imagine anyone would read this book without having read the previous five, because there's a lot of backstory to keep in mind, but the author does a pretty good job of filling in the necessary details.
I like my fantasy to surprise me, but actually there weren't too many surprises here. Maybe the foreshadowing was a little heavy-handed, or maybe my reread paid off, but most of the twists and turns were to some extent predictable. There were only a couple of moments that came out of the blue (but they were both terrific - very satisfying and making perfect sense). And yes, almost all of the questions were answered, there were deaths, but largely it played out as expected. Some of the reveals felt a little too contrived, there was a heavy layer of sentimentality everywhere, and there was a walk-on part for almost every character who survived the previous five books, but on the whole it worked pretty well. The author's writing reached a new high for this book; the poems worked well, the archaic language was much better than before and the dreams fitted perfectly, a hard trick to pull off. Even the romantic interludes were better. And the Royce/Hadrian banter and sniping was extended to the whole questing group, which was great fun and perfectly in keeping with their characters.
What didn't work? Well, the whole elf destruction routine felt very over the top. They were provoked, no denying it, but trying to kill every last human seems an excessive response. And given how powerful they were, their methods seemed a bit haphazard. The search for the underground Percepliquis was heavily redolent of the Mines of Moria in Lord of the Rings, with the pause to decide which of three passages to take, Arista cast in the Gandalf role, the Ghazel playing the orcs, and even a Balrog-type fire beastie being summoned. Fortunately, no one quite said 'Fly, you fools'. And at the end of it, the ruined city of Percepliquis was - well, ruined, and (for me) not terribly interesting.
I'm still not a fan of Arista. I understand what the author has tried to do with her development, and some of it is successful - she's not the whiny aristocrat any more, and seeing Alric again emphasizes just how far she's come. But she still can't manage to do anything by herself, even magic, without a man rescuing her or at the least holding her hand. Of the other characters, Royce is the most complex and therefore interesting, and Hadrian the shining foil to his darkness. Myron is a truly wonderful character, who comes into his own in this book. And even Magnus makes his peace with the world.
Eventually, all is revealed, and the ending is satisfying, although a bit too cute. There were a few implausibilities necessary to make it work, but on the whole everything fitted rather well. As with the whole series, an enjoyable, pacy read, page-turningly good, entertaining rather than deeply profound, although this final episode had more finesse than its predecessors. A good four stars.
Percepliquis pulls together virtually all the main characters into one questing group - a Fellowship of the Horn, as it were. Some of them didn't seem like main characters before, and I'm not sure they were all necessary to the outcome, but they have all been around pretty much from the start of the series. As with all six of the books, the plot of this one is fairly stand-alone, even though much of it builds on what has gone before. And as with them all, it's not always clear at the time who is manipulating events and who is acting under false pretences. Things are never quite what they seem. I can't imagine anyone would read this book without having read the previous five, because there's a lot of backstory to keep in mind, but the author does a pretty good job of filling in the necessary details.
I like my fantasy to surprise me, but actually there weren't too many surprises here. Maybe the foreshadowing was a little heavy-handed, or maybe my reread paid off, but most of the twists and turns were to some extent predictable. There were only a couple of moments that came out of the blue (but they were both terrific - very satisfying and making perfect sense). And yes, almost all of the questions were answered, there were deaths, but largely it played out as expected. Some of the reveals felt a little too contrived, there was a heavy layer of sentimentality everywhere, and there was a walk-on part for almost every character who survived the previous five books, but on the whole it worked pretty well. The author's writing reached a new high for this book; the poems worked well, the archaic language was much better than before and the dreams fitted perfectly, a hard trick to pull off. Even the romantic interludes were better. And the Royce/Hadrian banter and sniping was extended to the whole questing group, which was great fun and perfectly in keeping with their characters.
What didn't work? Well, the whole elf destruction routine felt very over the top. They were provoked, no denying it, but trying to kill every last human seems an excessive response. And given how powerful they were, their methods seemed a bit haphazard. The search for the underground Percepliquis was heavily redolent of the Mines of Moria in Lord of the Rings, with the pause to decide which of three passages to take, Arista cast in the Gandalf role, the Ghazel playing the orcs, and even a Balrog-type fire beastie being summoned. Fortunately, no one quite said 'Fly, you fools'. And at the end of it, the ruined city of Percepliquis was - well, ruined, and (for me) not terribly interesting.
I'm still not a fan of Arista. I understand what the author has tried to do with her development, and some of it is successful - she's not the whiny aristocrat any more, and seeing Alric again emphasizes just how far she's come. But she still can't manage to do anything by herself, even magic, without a man rescuing her or at the least holding her hand. Of the other characters, Royce is the most complex and therefore interesting, and Hadrian the shining foil to his darkness. Myron is a truly wonderful character, who comes into his own in this book. And even Magnus makes his peace with the world.
Eventually, all is revealed, and the ending is satisfying, although a bit too cute. There were a few implausibilities necessary to make it work, but on the whole everything fitted rather well. As with the whole series, an enjoyable, pacy read, page-turningly good, entertaining rather than deeply profound, although this final episode had more finesse than its predecessors. A good four stars.
Monday, 30 January 2012
Review: 'Wintertide' by Michael J Sullivan
So finally I get to read this as part of the new world order, the six book series republished as a standard-issue trilogy. This and the final part, 'Percepliquis', comprise 'Heir of Novron' (after 'Theft of Swords' and 'Rise of Empire'). However, I'm going to review them separately, partly for completeness, to match the rest of my reviews, but mainly because I want to display the original covers. I much prefer the author's own artwork to the publisher's generic fantasy images (the cover for 'Avempartha' is quite the most beautiful I've ever seen).
This book suffers a little from being the fifth in the series. That makes for a lot of backstory to be explained, some of which is (inevitably) something of an info-dump, and everything has to be positioned for the final book. On the plus side, for the first time in the series, I get a sense of genuine depth - in relationships, and in situations. Gwen and Royce's love feels totally real, and Hadrian's dilemma with regard to Sir Breckton is particularly poignant, mirrored by Royce's situation later. I liked the idea that Saldur is doing all this to restore civilisation and get the roads fixed up (much better than a bad guy who is simply evil). And the ending is stunning. Not at all sure where this is going, but it doesn't look good.
The plot - well, it's the usual flimsy stuff, but it really doesn't matter. The author really knows how to pile on the pressure so that the pages just keep turning - that 'just one more chapter' syndrome. There are no exotic settings this time, which is a shame. Instead we get the tired old castle-with-dungeons backdrop, and the feasts and knightly tournaments, but although it's pretty silly it just about works. That's more than can be said for the characters, however. The nobility turn out to be just as one-dimensional as the peasants, sailors, thieves and all the other walk-on characters in previous books. And in all honesty, I have to say that romance is not the author's strongest suit. Apart from Gwen and Royce, who have had five books to develop a convincing relationship, the romantic pairings here are well short of being believable.
Rereading the previous four books while awaiting this one has highlighted for me the weakness of the female characters. Arista has veered from whiny aristocrat to unconvincing wizard to half-hearted rebel leader, while spending most of her time imprisoned or otherwise acting as motivation for men with swords to rescue her. Amilia may be the accidental saviour of the empress, but she mostly spends her time being bossed around by men while bemoaning her unworthiness, and falling for the first man who speaks kindly to her. Thrace/Modina had moments of self-reliance in 'Avempartha', although interspersed with running around screaming 'Daddy, Daddy!", since when she has been imprisoned and not entirely sane. Gwen was promising, having been a successful businesswoman and, when faced with the burning of her home town, managing to decamp to safety with all her employees and her furniture too, an impressive feat. But no, turns out she is only motivation for a man after all (with a side-order of plot device, being a seer). Shame. But I don't want to be churlish about this aspect of the books, because, after all, it's no more than many other authors do. There is still one more book to go, and therefore one more opportunity for some of the female characters to be more than passive to-be-rescued motivation or love interest for male characters.
Basically, I thoroughly enjoyed this. For all its shortcomings, it's a solid, entertaining, pacy read, with some moments of real pathos and a certain depth to some of the situations, while never getting too heavy. In places it felt a bit rushed, but that's better than being too slow. The comradeship between Royce and Hadrian is, as ever, the bedrock of the series, and I love the way they get each other out of trouble, no matter what. The dramatic about-turn at the eleventh hour was a bit of a stretch, but then did anyone really believe all the main characters were going to die? I don't think so. And a starring role for Esrahaddon's cloak? Brilliant! A solid four stars. And so on to 'Percepliquis'...
This book suffers a little from being the fifth in the series. That makes for a lot of backstory to be explained, some of which is (inevitably) something of an info-dump, and everything has to be positioned for the final book. On the plus side, for the first time in the series, I get a sense of genuine depth - in relationships, and in situations. Gwen and Royce's love feels totally real, and Hadrian's dilemma with regard to Sir Breckton is particularly poignant, mirrored by Royce's situation later. I liked the idea that Saldur is doing all this to restore civilisation and get the roads fixed up (much better than a bad guy who is simply evil). And the ending is stunning. Not at all sure where this is going, but it doesn't look good.
The plot - well, it's the usual flimsy stuff, but it really doesn't matter. The author really knows how to pile on the pressure so that the pages just keep turning - that 'just one more chapter' syndrome. There are no exotic settings this time, which is a shame. Instead we get the tired old castle-with-dungeons backdrop, and the feasts and knightly tournaments, but although it's pretty silly it just about works. That's more than can be said for the characters, however. The nobility turn out to be just as one-dimensional as the peasants, sailors, thieves and all the other walk-on characters in previous books. And in all honesty, I have to say that romance is not the author's strongest suit. Apart from Gwen and Royce, who have had five books to develop a convincing relationship, the romantic pairings here are well short of being believable.
Rereading the previous four books while awaiting this one has highlighted for me the weakness of the female characters. Arista has veered from whiny aristocrat to unconvincing wizard to half-hearted rebel leader, while spending most of her time imprisoned or otherwise acting as motivation for men with swords to rescue her. Amilia may be the accidental saviour of the empress, but she mostly spends her time being bossed around by men while bemoaning her unworthiness, and falling for the first man who speaks kindly to her. Thrace/Modina had moments of self-reliance in 'Avempartha', although interspersed with running around screaming 'Daddy, Daddy!", since when she has been imprisoned and not entirely sane. Gwen was promising, having been a successful businesswoman and, when faced with the burning of her home town, managing to decamp to safety with all her employees and her furniture too, an impressive feat. But no, turns out she is only motivation for a man after all (with a side-order of plot device, being a seer). Shame. But I don't want to be churlish about this aspect of the books, because, after all, it's no more than many other authors do. There is still one more book to go, and therefore one more opportunity for some of the female characters to be more than passive to-be-rescued motivation or love interest for male characters.
Basically, I thoroughly enjoyed this. For all its shortcomings, it's a solid, entertaining, pacy read, with some moments of real pathos and a certain depth to some of the situations, while never getting too heavy. In places it felt a bit rushed, but that's better than being too slow. The comradeship between Royce and Hadrian is, as ever, the bedrock of the series, and I love the way they get each other out of trouble, no matter what. The dramatic about-turn at the eleventh hour was a bit of a stretch, but then did anyone really believe all the main characters were going to die? I don't think so. And a starring role for Esrahaddon's cloak? Brilliant! A solid four stars. And so on to 'Percepliquis'...
Saturday, 28 January 2012
Review: 'Emerald Storm' by Michael J Sullivan (reread)
Not a lot to add to my original review. There were a lot of new characters added in this book, some we met briefly in previous books, and some entirely new, and occasionally I got confused. The Tenkin, Staul, is particularly poorly introduced, seemingly dropped in from nowhere as if we should know who's being talked about, but if he was mentioned earlier it was very oblique.
The three women, Arista, Thrace/Modina and Amilia, continue their painfully slow rise to competence, although they still needed rescuing at regular intervals. Arista, in particular, is a puzzle. Despite Esrahaddon declaring in the previous book that she is potentially the most powerful person in the world, and other characters talking about her intelligence, she displays a breathtaking level of idiotic decision-making. A bloke with a sword saves her from one horrible fate, but instead of learning from that, she ends up even worse off. Silly woman. Amilia gets temperamental about Arista, and Modina must have elf ancestry to account for her amazing eyesight, managing to recognise the disguised Arista from her fifth floor window. Clever, that.
The other half of the book, the adventures of Royce and Hadrian, is a cracking read, with lots of action, an introduction to the mysterious region of Calis and its scary inhabitants, and the wonderful dwarf-built tower of Drumindor (which I would love to see realised on the big screen actually - a set designer could have terrific fun with it). I gave it four stars last time, and I see no reason to change that.
The three women, Arista, Thrace/Modina and Amilia, continue their painfully slow rise to competence, although they still needed rescuing at regular intervals. Arista, in particular, is a puzzle. Despite Esrahaddon declaring in the previous book that she is potentially the most powerful person in the world, and other characters talking about her intelligence, she displays a breathtaking level of idiotic decision-making. A bloke with a sword saves her from one horrible fate, but instead of learning from that, she ends up even worse off. Silly woman. Amilia gets temperamental about Arista, and Modina must have elf ancestry to account for her amazing eyesight, managing to recognise the disguised Arista from her fifth floor window. Clever, that.
The other half of the book, the adventures of Royce and Hadrian, is a cracking read, with lots of action, an introduction to the mysterious region of Calis and its scary inhabitants, and the wonderful dwarf-built tower of Drumindor (which I would love to see realised on the big screen actually - a set designer could have terrific fun with it). I gave it four stars last time, and I see no reason to change that.
Wednesday, 25 January 2012
Review: 'Nyphron Rising' by Michael J Sullivan (reread)
I don't really have a lot to add to my previous review. This one felt like a more rational plot, more relevant to the over-arching story, and for the first time some real depth to the characters, especially Hadrian and Royce, whose backstories are partially revealed. Some of this was a little heavy-handed, particularly Royce's interaction with the Ratibor street urchin. Yes, we get it, the urchin is Royce, several years ago.
As in 'Avempartha', the women feel fairly caricatured. Thrace/Modina is effectively unconscious again for much of the book, Amilia is put in a nurturing role and Arista is still mostly the helpless baggage carted around by the men, or thrust into danger in order to be rescued, although at least she is beginning to develop some initiative (mind you, the transformation from helpless to rebellion-leader is not really believable). I understand what Sullivan is trying to do here, and I applaud his attempts to create strong female characters. It's just a pity that his method of doing that is to force them into a starting point where they are completely helpless or stupid or catatonic. Yes, they will grow over the course of the series, but since they start at rock bottom, that's not hard to achieve.
But still, a good read, the story easy enough to follow, and anything tricky explained a page or two further on. A little predictable, maybe, and simplistic in places, but then it's intended as entertainment so it would be churlish to complain about that. I'll stick with four stars.
As in 'Avempartha', the women feel fairly caricatured. Thrace/Modina is effectively unconscious again for much of the book, Amilia is put in a nurturing role and Arista is still mostly the helpless baggage carted around by the men, or thrust into danger in order to be rescued, although at least she is beginning to develop some initiative (mind you, the transformation from helpless to rebellion-leader is not really believable). I understand what Sullivan is trying to do here, and I applaud his attempts to create strong female characters. It's just a pity that his method of doing that is to force them into a starting point where they are completely helpless or stupid or catatonic. Yes, they will grow over the course of the series, but since they start at rock bottom, that's not hard to achieve.
But still, a good read, the story easy enough to follow, and anything tricky explained a page or two further on. A little predictable, maybe, and simplistic in places, but then it's intended as entertainment so it would be churlish to complain about that. I'll stick with four stars.
Sunday, 22 January 2012
Review: 'Avempartha' by Michael J Sullivan (reread)
After a nicely intriguing start, this one drops straight into all the things I disliked about it the first time round - unbelievable plot devices, lazy world-building, unconvincing characters and clunky dialogue. Thrace is particularly off-kilter. I can see what the author was aiming for, but (as with Myron) he has created a character whose total innocence of the wider world is simply not credible. Both Thrace and Arista, the two main female characters, come across as helpless creatures, simply being manipulated by other characters (Esrahaddon or Saldur), or else getting into trouble and needing rescue. Both women spend a considerable amount of time here either unconscious (Thrace) or a prisoner (both of them) or behaving stupidly (again, both of them), acting as motivation for the men. Ugh. Yes, I know things improve in later books, but still - ugh.
And the plot seems even sillier than the first time I read it. Even if you can buy into the peasants grubbing round in the mud, with a few pigs and goats and not much else (and it stretches credibility), why on earth would they sit around waiting to be taken by the dragon-like thingy? Even if they don't want to leave, why not build stone houses? Why not build a communal shelter where they can all sleep safely? Why not build an underground shelter? Just sitting in their (mostly wooden) houses waiting to be grabbed makes zero sense. And given the size of the uninhabited forest, there must be some other bit of it they could plough up, further away from the beastie.
But all that aside, the main feature of this book is the mysterious elven tower of Avempartha, and for me it was the star of the show. Firstly, the puzzle of getting into it, then Royce's awed wander through the interior and the really cool 'artistic visions' room - it was all terrific stuff. It was a pity we didn't get to 'see' some of the outcome of Esrahaddon's attempt to find the heir, which could have been done without revealing anything, but never mind. Also good: the river, Magnus the dwarf, Royce and Hadrian (of course), and Mauvin and Fanen, with an honourable mention for the bloke with the catapult thingy (a bit of initiative - wonderful!). I don't see any reason to change my three star rating, but nevertheless this is a good read (as long as you're not expecting great literature). [First read March 2011]
And the plot seems even sillier than the first time I read it. Even if you can buy into the peasants grubbing round in the mud, with a few pigs and goats and not much else (and it stretches credibility), why on earth would they sit around waiting to be taken by the dragon-like thingy? Even if they don't want to leave, why not build stone houses? Why not build a communal shelter where they can all sleep safely? Why not build an underground shelter? Just sitting in their (mostly wooden) houses waiting to be grabbed makes zero sense. And given the size of the uninhabited forest, there must be some other bit of it they could plough up, further away from the beastie.
But all that aside, the main feature of this book is the mysterious elven tower of Avempartha, and for me it was the star of the show. Firstly, the puzzle of getting into it, then Royce's awed wander through the interior and the really cool 'artistic visions' room - it was all terrific stuff. It was a pity we didn't get to 'see' some of the outcome of Esrahaddon's attempt to find the heir, which could have been done without revealing anything, but never mind. Also good: the river, Magnus the dwarf, Royce and Hadrian (of course), and Mauvin and Fanen, with an honourable mention for the bloke with the catapult thingy (a bit of initiative - wonderful!). I don't see any reason to change my three star rating, but nevertheless this is a good read (as long as you're not expecting great literature). [First read March 2011]
Tuesday, 17 January 2012
Review: 'The Crown Conspiracy' by Michael J Sullivan [reread]
With the final part of the six-book series in sight, I thought it would be fun to reread the earlier parts to see how they feel looking back with hindsight. I gave this first book three stars the first time round, as an enjoyable but fairly lightweight story, with some plot issues and not much depth to the characters. And although I got more out of it this time, seeing connections to later parts of the story, my opinion hasn't changed much. I liked the same things, and saw the same flaws, and it still feels like a three star book to me.
This time, after almost a year of reading other fantasy, I'm more impressed by the writing. One reviewer said that Sullivan doesn't use a single word that isn't essential, and compared to some authors this is true. Fantasy writers do tend to be verbose. It's a very spare, concise style of writing that puts the focus on the plot rather than endlessly describing characters or scenery. This keeps the action bubbling along, but I would have liked a little more detail sometimes, especially more emotion in the characters. However, I discovered quite a bit of nicely done description in a few places, which I obviously missed the first time round.
The plot still feels a little flaky, a bit of a caper, with no real sense of true danger (and so not much tension). You always feel confident that our heroes will find a way out of whatever pickle they've got themselves into. There were a couple of times when a twist was explained to us (the business of stealing the letters, for example, and later the fact that the abbey is burnt out); it would have been more dramatic, perhaps, to see these things happening rather than be told about it.
What really lets the book down, I think, is the world-building, which feels quite amateurish. There's a pseudo-medieval bit with peasants and castles, divided up into kingdoms, there's an elvish bit, and (later) a dwarvish bit and a tribal bit, and around the edges are 'wilderlands' and 'the lost lands' and 'the goblin sea', and some history of an empire and a god-king, none of which quite rings true. Maybe it's the dull names - Avryn, and Warric, and Trent, and Chadwick, and Hadrian Blackwater and Royce Melborn. I suppose it's better than Fgthyzztia Ick'Maglorthen and the like, which look as if the cat walked across the keyboard, but still... And then there's Lake Windermere. I've been to Lake Windermere, and very pleasant it is too, but it drops me right out of any suspension of disbelief when a real place name pops up in fantasy. The medieval parts are just too clichéd to be interesting, but I liked the more original places - the enchanted wizard prison, for instance.
The characters never totally convinced me. Hadrian and Royce have a nice line in dry humour, but I felt we never really got under their skin (although I know this improves somewhat in the later books). Myron is by far the most interesting character in this book. His talents put him, I would guess, somewhere in the autism/Aspergers spectrum, and he was the only one to display real emotion, as he prepared to leave the abbey, his home, indeed his whole world, since the age of four. Although it's hard to believe he could be that innocent - surely he would have seen horses at the abbey at some stage? Arista and Alric are very one-dimensional, and Esrahaddon is no more than a place-holder (again, this improves in later books). As for Esrahaddon's archaic language, I didn't like it the first time round and I still don't. Maybe a Chaucerian scholar could have added some authenticity? Or perhaps Myron could have translated through a Latin-equivalent? But at least the author considered the likelihood of the language changing in 900 years, and I've heard that this has been tidied up for the new release, so no big deal.
In the end, it's still an enjoyable romp. Hadrian and Royce are still likeable, fun characters with a nice line in dry humour. The plot is still pretty silly. I enjoyed spotting all the references to future events, and as a series it's very well thought-out, but as a stand-alone it's somewhat flawed, so I'll stick with three stars.
This time, after almost a year of reading other fantasy, I'm more impressed by the writing. One reviewer said that Sullivan doesn't use a single word that isn't essential, and compared to some authors this is true. Fantasy writers do tend to be verbose. It's a very spare, concise style of writing that puts the focus on the plot rather than endlessly describing characters or scenery. This keeps the action bubbling along, but I would have liked a little more detail sometimes, especially more emotion in the characters. However, I discovered quite a bit of nicely done description in a few places, which I obviously missed the first time round.
The plot still feels a little flaky, a bit of a caper, with no real sense of true danger (and so not much tension). You always feel confident that our heroes will find a way out of whatever pickle they've got themselves into. There were a couple of times when a twist was explained to us (the business of stealing the letters, for example, and later the fact that the abbey is burnt out); it would have been more dramatic, perhaps, to see these things happening rather than be told about it.
What really lets the book down, I think, is the world-building, which feels quite amateurish. There's a pseudo-medieval bit with peasants and castles, divided up into kingdoms, there's an elvish bit, and (later) a dwarvish bit and a tribal bit, and around the edges are 'wilderlands' and 'the lost lands' and 'the goblin sea', and some history of an empire and a god-king, none of which quite rings true. Maybe it's the dull names - Avryn, and Warric, and Trent, and Chadwick, and Hadrian Blackwater and Royce Melborn. I suppose it's better than Fgthyzztia Ick'Maglorthen and the like, which look as if the cat walked across the keyboard, but still... And then there's Lake Windermere. I've been to Lake Windermere, and very pleasant it is too, but it drops me right out of any suspension of disbelief when a real place name pops up in fantasy. The medieval parts are just too clichéd to be interesting, but I liked the more original places - the enchanted wizard prison, for instance.
The characters never totally convinced me. Hadrian and Royce have a nice line in dry humour, but I felt we never really got under their skin (although I know this improves somewhat in the later books). Myron is by far the most interesting character in this book. His talents put him, I would guess, somewhere in the autism/Aspergers spectrum, and he was the only one to display real emotion, as he prepared to leave the abbey, his home, indeed his whole world, since the age of four. Although it's hard to believe he could be that innocent - surely he would have seen horses at the abbey at some stage? Arista and Alric are very one-dimensional, and Esrahaddon is no more than a place-holder (again, this improves in later books). As for Esrahaddon's archaic language, I didn't like it the first time round and I still don't. Maybe a Chaucerian scholar could have added some authenticity? Or perhaps Myron could have translated through a Latin-equivalent? But at least the author considered the likelihood of the language changing in 900 years, and I've heard that this has been tidied up for the new release, so no big deal.
In the end, it's still an enjoyable romp. Hadrian and Royce are still likeable, fun characters with a nice line in dry humour. The plot is still pretty silly. I enjoyed spotting all the references to future events, and as a series it's very well thought-out, but as a stand-alone it's somewhat flawed, so I'll stick with three stars.
Wednesday, 31 August 2011
Review: 'Emerald Storm' by Michael J Sullivan
This is the fourth of a six-part series of connected stories set in the same world, which can supposedly all be read as stand-alones. There are references to earlier events, and foreshadowing of the larger picture, but this does read quite well as an independent story, even though it is probably more sensible to read the books in sequence.
Many of the same characters reappear, of course, not just Hadrian and Royce, the likeable rogues now royal protectors, but also Arista, the feisty princess, Thrace the village girl turned puppet empress, Esrahaddon the thousand year old wizard, and a whole raft of others. The plot concerns an intercepted message, which necessitates Royce and Hadrian becoming (rather bad) sailors and a great deal of - well, splicing the mainbrace and climbing the mizzen, or some such, with pirates and storms at sea and all the usual shenanigans. All good, exciting stuff.
We also get to see something of the southern coastal reaches of Elan, including the dwarvish tower of Druminor, built on a volcano, and the goblin homelands of Calis, all of which is far more interesting than the vaguely medieval world we've seen so far. The political plotting is still going on in the background, but it takes second place to the action, which is all to the good.
The whole series has been enjoyable to read, but this episode really sees the author reaching a new level. The plot is much tighter, with a neat twist at the end, the main characters acquire new depth and complexity, and there are far fewer quirks and anachronisms in the writing. There is less humour, perhaps, but that's inevitable as the story changes from amusing capers to defending the world. A good 4 stars. [First written August 2011]
Tuesday, 30 August 2011
Review: 'Nyphron Rising' by Michael J Sullivan
This is the third of a six-part series of connected stories set in the same world, which can supposedly all be read independently. It's true that the author sketches in the backstory at appropriate places, but still they work much better if you read them in sequence.
The same main characters appear - Hadrian and Royce the hired thieves, now working exclusively for the Melengar kingdom, Arista the princess and Esrahaddon the thousand-year-old wizard - and Thrace from the last story is now the puppet Empress. The plot this time is exclusively political - the church is absorbing as many kingdoms as it can into its newly recreated empire, while Melengar in the north and the Nationalists in the south try to resist them, which makes for a much simpler storyline.
Somehow, this works much better than the nonsensical plots of the first two books, becoming a straightforward and dramatic race to implement a high-risk strategy to defeat the empire's army. This time we are not overwhelmed with history, the supporting characters are far less cardboard and the pacing is excellent. The main characters are all developing nicely, too, especially Arista, and the magic in this book is beautifully done.
There were no wonderful magical places, like the wizard's prison from the first book, or the elven tower from the second, but that is a very minor quibble. I felt the writing achieved new heights in this book too, with a much better tone, greater depth and no jarring anachronisms or Americanisms, although the author still hasn't discovered the past perfect tense, but never mind. And there's even a hint of romantic tension for the first time, and a good sprinkling of humour. Overall, a great improvement, and I look forward to reading the rest of the series. Four stars. [First written May 2011]
Sunday, 28 August 2011
Review: 'Avempartha' by Michael J Sullivan
This is the second of a six-part series of connected stories set in the same world, but it reads well enough as a stand-alone, with just enough backstory to remind those who read the first book, without overloading the present story.
The lead characters (Hadrian and Royce) are the same, as is Arista, the sister to the abducted prince from book 1, and Esrahaddon, the thousand year old wizard, also has a starring role. The plot is similar nonsense - a village under attack from a strange monster, a magical elven tower which has to be entered, somehow, to retrieve a magic sword, as well as a scheme by the church to create another emperor. But somehow it is less entertaining than the first book, with too many side characters and a lack of anyone we can really believe in. The peasants, in particular, are poorly drawn, having not an ounce of common sense between them. Thrace is particularly irritating.
There is also a great deal of mythology thrown at us this time - some history of the elves and the last emperor and the heir - which is not uninteresting in itself, but it comes in such large chunks that it slows the action down drastically. But the elven tower (the Avempartha of the title) is beautifully described, and I suspect there will be more contact with the elves in future books.
The writing style can be irritating, with Americanisms like 'tarp' and 'bleachers' and 'font of wisdom', colloquialisms like 'glass half full', and silly typos like the 'sight' of a battle and 'ringing' out wet clothes. The author has also never been introduced to the pluperfect (or past perfect) tense - 'They had done such and such...'. These things are no big deal, and many readers will never notice them, but they cause those who do to drop abruptly out of the author's created world.
Having said all that, the book is still an enjoyable romp, easy enough to read without worrying too deeply about the twists and turns of the plot, and with a satisfying ending which also has a few intriguing loose ends to be explored in the rest of the series. And we learned a few interesting things about Hadrian and Royce too. 3 stars. [First written March 2011]
Review: 'The Crown Conspiracy' by Michael J Sullivan
This is the first of a six-part series of connected stories set in the same world, but designed to be more or less stand-alone. The author has made an attempt to buck the trend towards gritty realism, so this is a more traditional kind of fantasy, without any graphic sex, violence or bad language. The books are aimed at adults, although suitable for young adults.
The lead characters are a pair of for-hire thieves, one a warrior (Hadrian), the other a more conventional thief (Royce). They work independently, specialising in difficult but urgent jobs. As the book opens, they steal a set of letters for a noble, and then double their profit by stealing them back for the original owner. But then they are set up: they are offered what appears to be a straightforward retrieval task, but become the prime suspects for murdering the king. The king's daughter helps them escape, on condition that they also spirit away her brother to safety.
There ensues a lively chase across the countryside, trying to protect the prince while avoiding getting spitted themselves, and along the way acquiring Myron, the last surviving monk from a burnt-out monastery and releasing Esrahaddon, a thousand-year-old wizard, from an enchanted captivity, and ending with a set-piece battle as the prince attempts to regain his castle.
The story is not overly complicated, and certainly not profound, but it is very entertaining. The avoidance of too much realism means that we never worry overmuch whether the lead characters will survive or not. No matter how difficult a scrape they find themselves in, they will dream up some clever escape plan, or help will miraculously arrive. This makes it feel like a children's book, despite the author's intentions. And there is no moralising angst: when confronted with a wizard so dangerous he has been magically locked away for a thousand years, and given the explicit instructions not to do anything he says, in no time flat they are helping him to escape without a second thought. Guys, don't you think this might not be such a great idea?
The characters are stereotypes - the warrior, the adolescent prince, the wizard, the good-hearted whore and so on - but that doesn't make them uninteresting, and hopefully future books will give them a less cardboard feel. The adventures are very enjoyable, and some of the problems the characters have to solve are intriguing - the magically hidden wizard's prison, and the collapsing tower stairs in particular. I enjoyed the book enough to try the second of the series. 3 stars. [First written March 2011]
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