Fantasy
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Devices and Desires
Devices and Desires is the first book of the Engineer trilogy, which follows the life of an engineer exiled from his relatively modern and industrial city. The reason for the exile is obvious enough at first glance; the engineer has committed the crime of building a device that does not follow the appropriate Specification, an act which the ruling guilds consider an abomination, punishable by death. Yet even as the engineer struggles to escape from his fate, he conceives of a great engine that he can construct, an Engine which could set the world back on its rightful course... but to do so may require destroying everything he treasured.
The writing is engrossing enough, and the characters who become involved in the story are fascinating and realistic. They are not necessarily sympathetic, however. Everyone has their own interests and acts accordingly.
There were a number of areas where my suspension of disbelief suffering, mostly to do with the setting. Could an industrial city of the type described here actually thrive in a medieval environment? I suspect not; the gap between the industrial city and medieval surroundings is very stark. But these concerns do not overly interfere with the enjoyment of the work.
Overall, it's a good read and capable of holding the attention, but it won't win prizes for deep thought or careful worldbuilding. The strength is in the characters.
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The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe
So I went to see the first movie in the Narnia sequence last
week. I was hopeful; the trailers presented an image of a movie
in the tradition of Jackson's Middle Earth, based around a classic
fantasy series from the same period and sticking faithfully to the work
of the original author. It should have worked out well, with the
ground already broken, assuming the people involved were competent;
instead, the result was disappointing.
Don't get me wrong -- The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe
was not by any means a bad movie. In fact, if you put aside
Jackson's trilogy, it's the best adaptation of a fantasy novel in a
long time, and probably the best fantasy movie for the same
period. (At any rate, nothing aside from Jackson is coming to
mind that could compete -- I should note here that I am not a Potter
fan and have not seen those movies). It's definitely a well done
movie, and if it doesn't quite reach epic quality, they still have
quite a few books to go.
However.
The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe tried very hard to match
Jackson's feat with The Lord of the Rings, and unfortunately
failed. The movie was ambitious, reaching high er than they could
manage to support. The basics were done right, and done well; but
they put in a lot of effort to reach higher than just a basic fantasy
adaptation, and when they failed to reach the heights, the failure
brings down the rest of the work.
So what exactly was wrong with it? Emphatically NOT the source
material. The adaptation was relatively faithful to the source,
as adaptations go. Most of the scenes were taken directly from
the book. Unfortunately, simply taking scenes directly doesn't
work well; to fit into a visual medium the scenes need to have
connecting material, so that they avoid becoming a visual
storyboard. The written language provides for transitions, and
those transitions were notably lacking, giving the latter half of the
movie a very incoherent and disconnected feeling.
The special effects were ambitious, as well, and unfortunately failed
to convince. The characters of Mr. Tummnus and the badgers were
done very, very well, but once the scale opened up a bit the quality of
the effects suffered.
The one character who didn't need any special effects for her person,
the Witch, was also subtly wrong; partially her costume, which was
intended to evoke frozen material and was thus overly stiff and almost
cardboardish, but also her acting. Perhaps best described as
"almost, but not quite". The actress picked up very well on many
of the subtle cues that the Witch should present, allowing the audience
to realize her true nature while concealing it from Edmund, but then
emphasized those cues to the point of no longer being subtle at all.
Finally, the movie demonstrated what appears to be near-complete ignorance of the movie's allegorical nature. It's a Christian
tale at heart, Lewis's retelling of Eden, and while it is supposed to
be subtle, it's almost not there at all in the movie. I don't
consider this necessarily to be a flaw, since there's no reason to
think that they would have gotten it right had they tried to include
it, but remaking the whole Chronicles of Narnia without that as a foundation is likely to fail.
On the whole, it's not worth raving about, but it is worth seeing if
you were a fan of Narnia. It won't do any major damage to the
books. But it doesn't meet the standard set by Peter Jackson's
Lord of the Rings, so don't go in hoping for that.
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Tor Books is running a contest as a publicity stunt for the October 11th release of Knife of Dreams,
the next Wheel of Time novel. The idea is that you answer a
trivia question about the series and get a chance to win a weekly
prize. They're having some technical difficulties with the
server, so this is a good time to catch up on the past weeks' questions.
I just hope that the book they release is worth the publicity machine they're putting behind it.
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By The Sword
By The Sword, sometimes called Kerowyn's Tale,
is the first of what I call the Heraldic Biographies -- by which I mean
stand-alone novels describing an individual Herald's life from the
moment of being Chosen to the completion of their life's main
adventure. Kerowyn's story substantially predates the rest, and
ends up being vital to later events.
But first, who exactly is Kerowyn? Simple: the granddaughter of
Kethry (from the Vows and Honor sequence), Kerowyn is the eldest
daughter of a minor noble whose marriage to Kethry's only utterly
brainless daughter was his one and only big lucky break. Kerowyn
is left with an unexciting life running herd on the kitchen and
managing the household while dreading her father's eventual choice of
husband. Until, that is, her younger brother's wedding ends in
disaster -- with assassins, aided by magic, killing her father,
kidnapping her sister, and leaving every able-bodied male in the keep
too wounded to follow.
But Kerowyn's life has taught her that solving problems is a matter of
determining what is necessary, and doing it, regardless of whether it
is particular proper for her
to be the one doing it. It is clearly necessary for someone to
ride out after the attackers and at least make a token effort to rescue
their hostage, lest the father-in-law take offense. Since all the
men of the family are dead or wounded, Kerowyn must be the one to
go. The ballad of Kerowyn's Ride is still sung in Valdemar decades later, although the Bards have a disturbing tendency to view it as allegory...
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Oathbreakers
Having made their reputation as independent mercenaries, Tarma and
Kethry set out to advance their careers by joining an established
mercenary company. Their hope is simple enough: work hard, rise
up through the ranks, and eventually, attract the attention of a noble
with land to grant and some need that only Tarma and Kethry can
soothe. For values of soothing that involve swords and sorcery,
of course.
As with all of Lackey's Valdemar novels, the characters end up finding
what they were looking for. But the how and why of finding it are
quite well done, managing to introduce Tarma and Kethry to the royalty
of both Rethwellen and Valdemar, thus setting up several plot points to
be paid off later in the Valdemar saga.
Oathbreakers is substantially more unified than Oathbound.
It reads more like a novel than a collection of short stories with a
lot of filler material, and the plot is almost completely independent
of Oathbound.
In addition, Oathbreakers contains some elements affecting the overall
Valdemar story arc, and while those are not vital, they are nice to
know. The book stands alone quite well.
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The Oathbound
The story of Tarma and Kathry, shin'a'in swordsworn and white-winds
mage, begins as a short story published in a collection. After
two or three stories, the characters made it into a full-fledged novel
set slightly before the events in the Arrows of the Queen
trilogy. Although this book successfully stands alone, readers
will want to read the sequel Oathbreakers, and may also be interested
in Oathblood (which collects the short stories concerning the two main
characters into a single volume).
The story is exactly what an experienced reader would expect from
Lackey's writing; well-handled and entertaining characters who main
flaw is being too consistently moral while fighting villians too
consistently immoral. The villians in this novel are no exception
to Lackey's usual pattern, constituting everything from a roving band
of bandits set upon pillage and rapine to a godling of debauchery and
blood-magic.
While the characters are well-handled as usual, the plot is somewhat
disconnected -- showing its origin in short-story format, and reading
more like several novellas that don't quite meet smoothly along the
edges. There is little tension between the main characters, and
absolutely no room for growth; the demands of the format require each
episode to leave them in roughly the same condition that they
began.
Readers who enjoy the world of Valdemar for its own sake will enjoy
this book, and it's two cousins (Oathbreakers and Oathblood).
In particular, these three books are the best source of cultural
information on the shin'a'in, and very nearly the only source for
information on the forms of magic use that are not practiced by
Herald-Mages or their enemies. Kethry's use of magic is subtle,
intricate, and spell-based; very different from Vanyel's raw
manipulation of energy (with occasional major spells).
Readers whose attention is drawn primarily to the overarching plot of
the Valdemar world should feel free to skip these in favor of By The
Sword, which will provide all salient points of plot and history
required for later events.
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Magic's Price
Vanyel Ashkevron, Herald-Mage of Valdemar, is no longer young, and no
longer on the front lines. His tremendous talents of mind, magic
-- along with an impressive reputation -- are employed within the walls
of Haven, running the kingdom of Valdemar according to the wishes of
King Randale. But Randale's health is failing fast, and there are
other problems lurking just out of sight. The "ordinary" Heralds,
without Vanyel's mage-talents, feel themselves worthless in
comparison... and the feeling is returned by the people of Valdemar,
who would rather deal with a problem themselves then call for help and
receive just an ordinary Herald.
It's a problem with no easy solution, but it must be solved -- and
solved quickly. Because Valdemar is running out of Herald-Mages:
they are dying faster than they can be replaced, and the deaths grow
more and more suspicious with each new victim. Is something
killing off Valdemar's Herald-Mages? If so... how? And why?
Magic's Price is the culmination of a fantastically-written journey
through the life of a legend, a man whose tale is still told in a
Valdemar two centuries older, and though they know it not, a man whose
decisions in the final days of Valdemar's Herald-Mages have shaped the
course of those two centuries more than any other single hand.
But the story is not about the legend
of Vanyel; it is about the person who lived it. Magic strong
enough to shape a nation will not heal a lifetime's worth of broken
heart, nor turn aside a tragic fate. Mercedes Lackey
has always been good at showing the human side of a heroic figure, and
the story of Vanyel Ashkevron's life and death are her masterwork.
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Magic's Promise
Vanyel Ashkevron, Herald-Mage of Valdemar, has faced the worst that the
world can throw at him. Karsite demons, enemy mages, creatures
from the Pelagirs; he has faced and defeated them all. The bards
he once aspired to join now sing songs of his exploits to a rapt
nation. Young women worship his image while fearing to approach a
legend. Even his teacher, Savil, acknowledges that Vanyel's
talents have exceeded her own in many areas. There is only one
threat that Vanyel has yet to face: his family.
After spending most of a year replacing five separate Herald-Mages on
the Karsite border in wartime, Vanyel is due a vacation, and the damage
he inflicted upon the Karsite mages has given Valdemar enough breathing
space to allow just that. But waiting for him at the capital city
of Haven is a letter from his family, inviting him to make the visit he
has been putting off for so long. But even his fame and heroism
have not reconciled Vanyel with his family. Now openly shay'a'chern, his family refuses to accept his nature -- not that it lies comfortably within Vanyel either.
Vanyel is in desperate need of a rest. If he remains at court,
inevitably a crisis will arise to which he must be assigned. But
he fears that his family will be little more restful. With his
father refusing to accept his nature, his mother throwing pretty maids
at him in an attempt to change it, the armsmaster whose childhood
beatings did so much damage to Vanyel's spirit waiting in the wings,
and a newly-chosen young conservative firebrand of a priest to top it
all off, "quiet" is not a word likely to describe the Ashkevron
household. Vanyel has faced down demons, but can he survive his
own family?
Magic's Promise is the second book in Mercedes Lackey's The Last Herald-Mage
trilogy. It's actually the first Lackey book that I read; I
remember finding it in a library, without the preceding or following
volumes. I read it through and was fairly confused by a number of
inadequately-explained elements of the world, but was nonetheless
captivated by the exquisite characterization of Vanyel, his family, and
the other involved characters. I don't think I even realized it
was the 2nd book in a trilogy for a while, but as soon as I did, I
hunted down the rest.
This novel, and the trilogy of which it is a part, come very highly recommended.
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Magic's Pawn
Magic's Pawn, the first book in Mercedes Lackey's The Last Herald-Mage trilogy, is a superb coming-of-age adventure. The trilogy itself
is without a doubt the best thing Lackey has ever written, and
represents required reading for fantasy fans even if the rest of
Lackey's work holds no appeal. The story begins approximately two
centuries prior to the events of Arrows of the Queen, at time when
mages were still well-known within Valdemar...
Vanyel Ashkevron was born to a life of privilege and responsibility: as
the first-born son of Withen Ashkevron, a border lord of Valdemar,
Vanyel's duty is to take up the seat of honor and the lands of his
family, protecting and leading the people of the region, and providing
an heir to continue the family line. But Vanyel's interests lie
in other things: music, books, the social games and fashions of
court. The martial life holds no appeal for him, and no wonder,
for his father's armsmaster seems more likely to kill him than a
battle. Vanyel's misery and his father's disappointment conspire
to send him into exile with his aunt Savil, a Herald-Mage stationed in
the capital city of Haven, as his last chance to make something of
himself.
What happens at Haven will touch the heart, thrill the soul, and shape the future of Valdemar for centuries to come.
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Take a Thief
Take a Thief is a standalone novel that functions as a biography for Skif, one of the supporting characters in Lackey's Heralds of Valdemar
series. It's a return to a previous time in the Valdemar
universe, filling out events and characters previously only hinted
at. Both the characters and the events benefit from a fresh look
by a writer whose skill has grown substantially since the Arrows of the
Queen trilogy, and fans of the series will enjoy a look at Valdemar's
criminal underclass -- something which the majority of Lackey's books
mention only in passing.
The biographical format works quite well, now that the resolution of
the overall story arc seems to have been reached; it has also been
applied to Alberich, in Exile's Honor and Exile's Valor. None of
these books sheds new light on the overall arc, remaining
self-contained explorations of single characters previously featured
with only minor roles.
There's not much else to say about Take a Thief; Skif is a lovable, if
somewhat unlikely, rogue whose background of poverty and prior
profession make him an unlikely choice for a Herald of Valdemar.
Lackey's writing has improved enough to generate a convincing dialect
for the poor quarter, and manages to throw away that hard work by
introducing honorable thieves to live in it. Real thieves tend
not to practice class warfare by stealing only from the rich; instead
they tend to steal from those most convenient to them. But if
your suspension of disbelief can survive for the whole trip (and that
tidbit is far from the only unrealistic thing about Valdemar, so if
you've gotten this far), then it's a good read.
As with the other Valdemar books, there's no deep meaning here, just a few hours of escapism.
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Arrow's Fall
Arrow's Fall completes the story of Talia, Queen's Own Herald of
Valdemar. Returning from her internship, Talia's friends and
allies at Court welcome her back with the news that the Queen is
considering a betrothal for Elspeth, heir to the throne, at the
insistence of her advisors. The betrothal offer came from
Ancar of Hardorn, a neighboring kingdom with a history of friendship,
if not outright alliance, but something about the situation doesn't sit
right with the Queen -- nor with the Queen's Own.
Talia must somehow sort out the mess her personal life has become,
figure out what it is about the betrothal offer that makes her wary,
and find true love, all in the course of a few hundred pages. For
the first time, Talia is faced with serious threats to her life and
sanity, as the fate of nations and the plots of kings threaten both her
personally and the throne to which she owes her allegiance.
The events in Arrow's Fall are the true beginning of the entire
Valdemar series, detailing the return of true magic to a land that has
done without for almost two centuries. While it is the end of
Talia's story, Lackey has much more in mind for the Heralds of Valdemar.
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Arrow's Flight
Arrow's Flight is the second novel of the Arrows of the Queen trilogy, and the second in Mercedes Lackey's
tales of Valdemar. It picks up the story with the completion of
Talia's Collegium training, and about to begin her internship with one
of the other Heralds. The internship period is the final test
before becoming a full-fledged Herald, and it will take Talia out of
the capital city of Haven and into the northern border areas of
Valdemar. But the real dangers of the journey are not those
of bandits, insular villagefolk, or court intrigue; for Talia's own
gift of Empathy is an unusual one, and the other Heralds have little
idea how to train her properly in its use and ethics...
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Arrows of the Queen
Arrows of the Queen is probably Mercedes Lackey's
first published work, or close to it, and that shows; although it's
well written for a first novel, it has the rough edges of inexperience,
and a certain naive simplicity that renders it eminently suitable for
children (really, young teenagers) and sometimes less engrossing for
adults. All her works tend to have a touch of those qualities,
but Arrows of the Queen is an explicitly escapist fantasy: a young
girl's dream of magical horses to cure her loneliness and carry her
away from all her troubles. The cliche is so thick that I'm
always surprised at how well the actual story is told within that
framework.
It should be noted that, although first published, Arrows of the Queen does not represent the first Valdemar novel chronologically.
That honor goes to The Last Herald Mage trilogy (for the kingdom of
Valdemar itself), or the Silver Griffon trilogy (for the world of
Velgarth). Nevertheless, this novel is the proper place to start.
Imagine a young girl, living in a repressive and distinctly
anti-feminist medieval culture, whose only escape from the daily
drudgery of her existance is reading fantasy novels. What would
such a person dream up? Start with a magical horse to carry her
away from her troubles, magical powers to make her a special person, a
community that will accept and trust her, and an important position in
the government to make her feel useful. Now, imagine it's all
real -- and you have the kingdom of Valdemar.
The hero of this novel, Talia, is Chosen as a Herald of Valdemar -- and
not just any Herald, but Queen's Own Herald. She must take
up both her training as a Herald and her tasks as Queen's Own, advisor
and counselor to the Queen, while adjusting to the changes in her own
life and surviving the assassins bent on making that life short indeed.
Don't expect too much from this novel, since it exists primarily to set
up the sequels (both the two direct sequels, and the larger Valdemar
story arc). The prose is light, the characters and plot are
simple; there's not much emotional committment necessary. Read it
quickly without shame, and you'll enjoy the experience.
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Nightseer
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If the Anita Blake series is Hamilton's talents in full flower, then Nightseer is little more than an amateurish first novel that attained publishable status by virtue of the author's later success. It is not so much a bad novel as it is an embarassing one; clumsy and awkward and heavy-handed like a teenager's first dates, the occasional moments of skillful writing are not worth wading through the adolescent wish-fulfillment. Only a completist should consider this one.
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The Book of Jhereg
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The best way to understand the world of Vlad Taltos, assassin, is to begin with the knowledge that he works almost exclusively for the elvish mafia. Yes, there are elves in the mafia. There's also magical pollution, talking lizards, and lots of good swashbuckling fun.
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Something from the Nightside
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Something from the Nightside is another piece of formulaic fantasy from Simon Green, who seems quite capable of writing formulaic fantasy or science fiction with his eyes closed and quite possibly while unconscious. His books are characterized by unique people with unique items wielding unique powers, to the point where the sheer uniqueness of everything (complete with capitalization) becomes tiresome and repetitive. This book is a fairly normal application of his formula.
That said, it's not necessarily a bad formula. Something from the Nightside works well enough to entertain. And for certain purposes, such as providing inspiration for characters in a roleplaying game, it is very well suited.
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Kushiel's Dart
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Carey's Kushiel trilogy is set in the land of Terre de Ange (presumably, Land of the Angels), which she places geographically in the region of France, and chronologically following the downfall of the Roman Empire. The historical ties are imprecise enough to bear no burden of accuracy, however, and the mythology is based only loosely around our own.
The central mystery of this proto-France land is a being born from the blood of Christ and the tears of Mary Magdalene, mixing in the mud of the earth. Twelve angels abandoned the service of God to follow this new being called Elua; Kushiel was one, an angelic scourge in charge of punishing the sinful, yet whose punishments were exquisite enough that the punished were left craving more; Naamah was another, whose angelic beauty and grace served to raise lovemaking to a form of worship, and whose charms purchased freedom and sustenance for Elua.
The result, two hundred years later, is a uniquely-conceived backdrop for Phedre's gripping tale of intrigue and divinity. Readers will not be disappointed by any aspect of this first novel; it is written with taste and subtlety. While the focus of the story is intrigue, in the shape of Phedre's assignations and their dire consequences, there is enough straightforward conflict to satisfy anyone.
Phedre's peculiar tastes are, if not the driving force of the plot, at least extremely significant to it. As such, readers who find the idea of an erotic aspect of pain distasteful might prefer to skip the book. However, that aspect of events is handled with grace and delicacy; even those who don't share that particular passion should not have their experience ruined by it.
An unexpected treat is the depth of cultural, historical, and mythological knowledge interwoven into the tale. The reader with a knowledge of these elements in our own history will be drawn into a world where the myths are living, vibrant, and both viscerally real and rationally ambiguous. The reader is gracefully presented characters who believe in the supernatural, combined with events that leave room for skepticism.
There is truly something in this book for every taste, and the various elements are woven together skillfully. This is one of the best novels I've read this year.
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