Books
Submitted by Abalieno on May 7, 2008 - 21:05.
 I'll start quoting another review:
An Earth of the far future; a post-technological society living on the ruins of the past; ancient guilds with arcane rituals and origins lost in antiquity; cold and casual depictions of torture... Gene Wolfe describes all of these things in magnificent and luscious detail. Unfortunately, this takes up so much space that there isn't room for a plot.
On a forum recently I wrote that I've never been so close to the end of a book without having a clear opinion about it. In fact I could write two reviews, one full of praises and another as harsh criticism. I still don't know whether I liked the book or not, but I can say I was intrigued.
In a way the impression it made on me is a mix of Lovecraft and Gaiman's Sandman. It's nowhere a classic fantasy setting, or even a classic tale. It is... weird, shady, full of convoluted, self-referential symbolism. I could say that the book builds a barrier between the fictional world and the reader. Either you are able to pass it, and get sucked in, or you bounce back, and you'll never understand what's so special about it. I somewhat sat on that edge and took a peek at what's beyond, but without really getting into it completely.
That quote from the review is symbolically important exactly because it underlines a main trait, and what I expect to be a typical reaction to the book. It is baffling because you pass time reading with the hope to find... something. A development, or a direction that turns what you read before into something meaningful. You read and expect a build-up. Toward something. But you keep reading, and waiting, this something never arrives. You turn the last page and you wonder: so what?
There's no resolution. This is just a first book in a series, so you don't even expect that kind of resolution, but at least you expect something, somewhere. A direction. A point. You expect a plot driven by something, but as that quote says, you keep reading and you don't find anything. So is this book completely empty of meaning?
Nope, on the contrary. But that meaning isn't where you usually look for it. There's no plot, no direction, no resolution. Characters are ghosts, the events are entirely disconnected and improbable, there's no logic sense or flow whatsoever. Yet the book is full of meaning. It just isn't where you are looking. It's not in what is written, the black of the text. It's instead in the white between the lines. The place where you don't usually look for things.
The content in the book will be only accessible if you got a key to decipher it. Many readers, with typical expectations, will glide over this kind of book and find nothing. They aren't to blame as the writer surely didn't care about them, and didn't try to make his book accessible. In my case I fell in the first group, keep on reading with the hope of finding a key somewhere, then started reading forums and websites and finally got some clues about where to look.
That's the risk with this book, that you read it without knowing where to look, or expecting something that never arrives. So what is this all about? It is about the two levels. One is the surface, the denotative level. What things are explicitly. So the plot, what happens, the dialogues, the descriptions. And then there's the symbolic level. What things represent. This book is filled with this kind of superstructure. It's weighed by it and, in fact, it's not an easy read. It's terribly twisted, convoluted and alien. It is not simple because you have to move there and understand a way of thinking that may be so far from yours.
Where the book becomes extraordinary is in its internal consistency. This book isn't a tale. It represents instead the head of its narrator. It's written in first person and it is the mind of Severian of the Torturers. In order to read it you have to enter his mind. And his mind doesn't work as common minds. Everything you "see" is filtered through Severian eyes. You don't see the world in its "correct" representation, but as personal interpretation.
And here comes the main theme of the book: deception. The writer, the god of this world, making things as he wants, lies. So you have to look past this curtain. You have to look between the lines. From a side you have to understand the wicked mind of Severian, his twisted, paradoxical way of thinking, enter into it, from the other side you have to tear it apart to understand the blind point. Where he is lying. Where he is moving the pieces and for what kind of reason.
This is why most of the book come as an enlightenment. As an epiphany. You read dumbly and somewhere you see glimpses of light. How often depends on your affinity with the writer, because as I said Gene Wolfe doesn't really care whether you get it or not. He isn't writing for you, he is writing for his kinds.
It's also no wonder that this book generated so much speculation. It lives past the text as what makes it unique is what beyond the text. Your own (and other readers) speculations. What makes interesting discuss the book instead of simply reading it as a direct experience. So you enjoy it with this kind of delay.
Even in this case what makes it great is the internal consistency and hidden layers that make it deep and complex. That is typical of this kinds of "worlds". That go past the medium itself. The mythos. This book generated its own mythos that survives the book itself and that is as deep as you decide to dig.
You decide whether you want to lose yourself into it, or if this kind of commitment isn't for you. Sure is that Wolfe requires a kind of total attention that no other entertainment medium requires today. It will remain in history as one of those things that less and less people manage to understand and love, but with an heart special and unrepeatable.
A little gem that will be often mistaken as colored glass.
P.S.
I contributed with one slight speculation here.
Submitted by Abalieno on April 16, 2008 - 05:38.
 This book wasn't part of my reading queue, but my dad bought it and I decided to read it as well as it is rather short with its 200 pages written large.
It's a famous book, from a respectable author, and won the Pulitzer in 2007. The theme isn't even too far from the genre, as it describes a post-apocalyptic world. Maybe it would qualify as sci-fi, but it becomes instead a good argument to discuss what separates mainstream (and recognized) literature, from the specific genres that are often disregarded.
As the world where the novel is set is barren, so is the prose and the plot. Think about an hybrid between the "Fallout" games and "I am Legend". But here things are much more penetrating. What you see written in the first page is the same you’ll see through the rest of the book. There’s nowhere to go. But the father and son, protagonists of the novel, move forth. Clinging desperately to an empty hope that is directly felt by the reader.
This is a world made of ash. There are no oasis. The lack of frills and decorations in the prose help the effects the book wants to convey. The more the prose and plot are naked, the more you see the life, in its most encompassing meaning, to the bone. It doesn’t cover, doesn’t veil, doesn’t distract. Naked. And it’s frightening, lacerating, but transmitting a sense of vulnerability and preciousness.
At its core the book describes the relationship between a father and son. The apocalyptic setting may appear as a distraction, but it becomes the opposite. It is a way to strip that relationship from all the worthless parts, and go to the heart. Since there’s no real plot, the 200 pages become a meticulous description of survival. It is so precise that you are brought there and there is no possible way to read the book while keeping a detached mood. Again since there’s no plot, you, reader, become the protagonist. The father and son move forth, walking step by step across the world, heading south to survive the winter. With this lacerating hope to survive just a little longer and find a better world, accompanied by the certainty that there aren’t any chances. So the reader moves through the book, and what is left to do is simply reaching the end of the book and find out what happens to the characters, expecting the worst. Because here reading is like a torture and you have to work hard to keep going, as oppressive as it feels.
That meticulousness of descriptions becomes, in a way, obsessive. The difficulty of survival isn’t simply about the concrete aspects, but also of the mind accepting what is going on without shattering. It’s unsustainable. There isn’t anything to cling to, no gods, but the direct demonstration than no god can actually exist. So what’s the sense?
I have my own interpretation of the novel. You may think it’s extreme, you may close the book and think that it passed like a bad dream, that you saw the worst, but it wasn’t real. My interpretation is that what is in the book isn’t distant from real life. That those nightmares are concrete. The form of those nightmares may be different, but their substance is in our everyday life, and the distance we feel from that world and ours, the same distance that allows us to stay sane, is just illusion. It is hope. It is a lie we believe in. It is a way to keep the eyes shut and repeat endlessly that everything is going well.
This brought up something I was thinking about before even starting to read the book. What should we teach to our children? Do you protect them, put an hand on their eyes, make them have a life of happiness, of positive dreams, keep them playing, smiling, oblivious? Or do you prepare them to the real world, and so stripped of all the frills, as dramatic at it can be, with that sense of being completely alone, and feel that oppression? Reassured or awakened? Comedy or tragedy?
What is this world? Why do we live? To pretend we’re blind? Or to forget we can see?
I’m sure out there are more people dying than people reading books, playing games, watching movies. So what is real? The illusions we use as shrouds to stay blind and flee for the reality that the mind can’t understand or tolerate? We hide from the view those who suffer, those who are ill. We reject those thoughts and pretend they don’t exist. We have a representation of society that just follows the successful types and makes them a standard. Is all this just so we can bear the weight no one can bear?
This book goes through that. It shows the worst the life has to offer and makes no attempt to hide how terrible it is. It slaps it in your face. At the same time there’s a “fire”. The hope you still have to cling to, something that tells you that you aren’t simply made of flesh, to become ash.
At the end I think the feel is reassuring. That what is in the book isn’t alien, but something we know. It tells the story of a father and his son, and that relationship is as true as what we live. It is the same story that goes on between every father and every son.
It doesn’t show the worst, but the best we are.
Submitted by Abalieno on April 9, 2008 - 19:44.
  
Oooooommmmph!
I was impatiently waiting this package from amazon.co.uk. I'm still in the earliest pages of the second book of Erikson, but I wanted to pile all seven of them, in the same edition, and just gawk for a while. That seventh book is fresh of print, as it came out just now in its UK paperback/MM edition.
When you hold it in your hands, Reaper's Gale, with its 1260 pages, you wonder how Erikson could write it in less than 10 months. And write it with a 1000+ pages book one after the other. At the expense of quality? We'll see.
There's also a new map with the whole empire of Lether.
So I made this HUGE pile of the seven books, and it's really spectacular. When it will have the three missing volumes it will be undoubtedly one of the biggest achievements in the genre, even if you aren't an Erikson supporter. It's not books, it's treasure!
Then there's also the trade paperback edition of "Last Arguments of Kings". HUGE, massive. About 80 pages fatter than the second. Had to skim again through the book to understand the title (which is a quote from an inscription on a cannon, so you understand the humor behind it).
I know I'll love that book, and I'll have to force myself to read it soon (I have an habit to delay the best things, to keep them last).
In the meantime a third book joins my daily reads: The Road by Cormac McCarthy. But it is a 200 pages book, written big. I'm already at page 80 and expect to finish it in a few more days.
Submitted by Abalieno on April 7, 2008 - 16:35.
  
While I love maps, I don't mind if they aren't there. But I'm pissed if the map exists but was stripped from an edition of the book.
So Greg Keyes comes with no maps. This one I got is the Tor UK Mass Market edition just because I thought it looked slightly better than the US version. But no map.
Instead I was positively surprised by the UK edition of the Stephenson book. It isn't fantasy but GOT MAPS! Three of them, in fact (Europe 1680, London 1667 and Rhine Valley 1800). And also the three family trees diagrams shown on Neal Stephenson's website. If it had appendices I may mistake it for LOTR.
So I got a fantasy book with no map, and a non fantasy book with maps and family trees. And both are EPIC.
Greg Keyes Thorn and Bone series is four books, the last out recently, and that is considered as a lighter version of George Martin's Ice and Fire. Still supposed to be very pleasant to read, something flowing well, with good, intense characters and that captures you for a while without the overcomplicated parts and excessive evil of other series. I got it for that reason, as an interlude while I move between bigger and more demanding series. Something more lightweight and easier to read.
Stephenson instead is the other end of the spectrum. Not excessively evil, maybe, but excessively brainy and demanding. That book is part of the "Baroque Cycle", three HUGE books, all already published. The first is more than 900 pages and written in a small typeset. It's supposed to be 3000 pages of cleverness in total and I want to see what it is all about, as I keep reading about it on the forums. I like the insane ambition and scope, I like the challenge in reading, so I'm absolutely intrigued. Also because they say Stephenson has an unique writing style that is clever and fun to read even when he writes about things that aren't. We'll see.
In the meantime I'm at page 80 of Gene Wolfe, and 100 of Erikson. The first ten pages of the prologue in the Erikson book are a masterpiece, the rest I read also intriguing and excellent, definitely better than the first book. It shows that the writer has matured. With Gene Wolfe I keep reading hoping to find a "key" and understand where he's going. The writing is indeed excellent and I love how there's a subtext everywhere. Need to dig more.
If instead you are looking for games, I suggest playing this. Remember to turn on the sound, and burn the rope.
Submitted by Abalieno on April 4, 2008 - 18:13.
Accessibility, in books.
Because the world is all the same. One of the themes of this site has been about accessibility in games, now the theme comes back even if I'm dealing with fantasy books.
From an interesting interview with Scott Bakker, on Steven Erikson:
Steve Erikson and I had a conversation about this very thing at the ICFA a couple of weeks ago. Both of us are building very tall series on narrow foundations simply because of the sheer complexity of our first books. My bold prediction is that Steve’s next series will be every bit as successful as A Song of Ice and Fire.
At first I was misled by the "very tall series on narrow foundations", as it sounds as the first book wasn't well planned enough to sustain a huge series (10 tomes, in the case of Erikson).
It probably means the opposite: they aimed too high with that first book, make it too complex and intricate, and so too dense for a lot of readers. For a series this long this means that you bleed a majority of readers soon, and only a very small group will stick to it and make to the end.
In fact in that interview Bakker says he should have simplified his book, reduce the introspection and the philosophical essays. Make it easier to read. More welcoming. More accessible.
More popular.
Submitted by Abalieno on March 28, 2008 - 18:10.
Ordered from bookdepository.co.uk (since it's free delivery, and it's convenient to buy single books) and arrived today.
When I said I was going to read just the very best in the genre, I really meant it. Added points because I like long branching series and this is one of them.
This is a nice edition from Tor, bundling the first two books. 410 pages in total, but written in a super-tiny character.
I'm currently reading "Deadhouse Gates" by Steven Erikson, but the curiosity goes more toward Gene Wolfe since I've never read anything of him. Maybe I'll try to read them in parallel, even if I prefer to focus on just one thing at time.
Submitted by Abalieno on March 21, 2008 - 19:21.
 The story so far:
It’s a tale of two warring factions. It starts in the middle of the campaign of a Roman-like empire ruled by a mysterious empress, moving to expand her territorial control beyond what’s reasonable. The other faction being the “free cities”, who form an alliance to try to fight back and preserve their independence. Two opposed groups. The rest of the plot is about the insane proliferation of sub-factions.
Each of these two big groups is divided into a number of internal factions, with their own hidden history and plans, often not aware (or completely aware) of each other, often not even aware of where they stand. From there rises the emergent complexity of Erikson’s world. And not only we have a number of factions criss-crossing each other, but then even the gods enter the fray. Adding more foreshadowing, mystery and forgotten history. Everyone messes with everyone else. With the added principle at the foundation of it all: power draws power.
The result? A convergence. There’s a high number of sub-threads in the plot due to the interaction of these many factions, all converging to a point. Not only conceptually, but also geographically. Thankfully Erikson is coherent, so everything is well explained and makes sense, and the reader has the feel already halfway through the book that everything is moving exactly toward that point, and that it’s gonna be a real mess.
That’s the structure of the book. A really good structure. It starts with a bang, a powerful scene that is admirably handled (first you see the gruesome aftermath, then you are brought right there). Then there’s the calm after the storm, and, for the 500 pages between that first part and the climax, Erikson meticulously builds up his dominoes just so he can blow everything up later in a handful of pages.
While it moves on, there’s a whole lot of showmanship. Fireworks. So much that maybe you can find them a bit too excessive. So much stuff, characters and plots are presented that they could easily fit a fat trilogy. Still, the book doesn’t feel like moving too fast, because you know that all it happens isn’t resolutive but just another step toward the final reckoning.
There’s a guy half Marilin Manson, half Sephiroth from Final Fantasy 7, who goes around sitting on his moon-shaped airship. There’s a Jaghut Tyrant, who lifts his index and a volcano rises out the earth, that flicks his thumb and turns everything to ashes. Armies of zombies (kinda), all kinds of weird creatures like flying insects used as helicopters, a winged monkey, a chaos-powered wooden puppet. There are named swords with particle effects, powerful mages, a fool who walks through dreams, demons, dragons, other dimensions, gods.
Continuously, powerful forces who can destroy and enslave worlds are quoted. You think that this scenario is complete? That these are the “villains”? No, because before the end you discover that the forces at play are just “diversions”, and that bigger players are entering as well.
Now, I deliver death.
An endless stream of “you’ve seen nothing yet” and it almost feels like the Dragonball of fantasy literature.
But don’t get me wrong, because all of this is awesome. The worldbuilding is consistent, gritty and realistic. It has a strong sense of wonder, but it doesn’t slip on it and it’s probably the best setting ever. Brave and ambitious. Inspired and visionary. There’s attention to the different cultures and how all these uncommon aspects can affect what’s around them. The concept of gods walking among men is about how the perception of people change, when they know that gods aren’t an abstract, dubious ideas, but they are concrete, and affect visibly the world around you.
As with Tolkien, there’s history to the world going back for thousands of years. Unlike Tolkien, history here isn’t just a distant horizon, but instead comes back to take its toll. And knowing history means having an advantage, being ahead of your enemies. Gods, being immortal, have patience. Men, being mortal, are continuously on the edge.
On top of all this goodness, if you like its taste, there are a number of flaws. I often read complaints on the forums and now I can comment with my own experience. For the most part those flaws exist, but are marginal details that don’t get in the way. On the other side there are certain aspects that are more relevant.
To begin with, Erikson uses a tone that doesn’t change much through the whole book. For Glen Cook this worked because he used a single POV, for Erikson this works less, because he offers the POV of just about everything, included anthropomorphic animals that appear a bit silly. With so much display of power it is counterproductive to show every POV because you diminish the sense of wonder and have a normalizing, flattening effect on everything. The “flat” tone also makes the “voices” of all characters also flat, so making them all too much alike.
This gets worse as it loses a lot of the charisma of the characters and the novel feels distant. You aren’t easily drawn in as you fail to understand and sympathize with the characters. You always feel a separation and this works against the interest when powerful scenes are depicted. They kinda happen, they are pretty, showy, but fall a bit short because of the lack of emotional involvement.
Another flaw is that Erikson is abrupt with descriptions. When he says someone is “tall and lean” then he’s already giving out too much. All the characters seem a bit like black shapes, not because they lack a distinctive characterization, but because Erikson doesn’t linger to explain and describe. He moves on, only handing out a couple of words every hundred pages. The characterization is actually there and works, but you have to extrapolate it by yourself.
This is painfully obvious if you come from reading something like Abercrombie. In that case every phrase and word is carefully studied to give a particular feel of a character. Detail. Emergence. Here the grand scope and ambition makes characters cower. They are crushed by the plot.
There’s a love story hidden in the book that is completely developed in the background. A lot of readers complained it doesn’t make sense. The truth is that it’s very consistent, but it happens in ellipsis. It’s veiled. Like the rest of the characterization, you have to infer it. And for most readers this just means that it never happened, as it was never clearly exposed.
These two (flat tone and weak characters) are the two biggest complaints. I recognize the first as a flaw, but the second is more a choice of the writer than a flaw. In the case of the love story there was so much going on that exposing it would disrupt the pace of the book with a scene completely inappropriate. That love story represents a plot shift, but it was outside the themes of the book. And, thinking about it, Erikson dealt with it in the best way possible.
Another minor flaw I recognize is about the Deus Ex Machina. There’s a whole lot of it. I see how people are gonna hate this, but for the most part, it’s excused in the plot. Deus. Gods. In this book there are gods. They exist as part of the plot. They bend the plot as they like. They ARE Deus Ex Machina. Because they can.
This is actually one of the best realized aspect of the book. In Greek mythology gods were personifications and projections of human weaknesses, desires, ambitions and so on. Erikson takes inspiration from that. Gods weigh in everyday life, they are characters themselves, involved directly in the plot and not just abstract entities. Erikson has all of this, but his way is unique and charming in its own way.
The gods in this book intervene in everyday life in subtle ways. For example there's the classic scene of someone who suddenly sees a coin on the ground, crouches to grab it, and doing so dodges a dart shoot by an assassin. A so classic scene that is completely ineffective and unbelievable. Ruins the consistence. But here it's not a coincidence. It's not chance, it's Chance. It's a god manipulating things.
What makes all this interesting and unique is that these gods don't just intervene in subtle ways, pulling threads as they like, but that they are promptly detected by "normal" people who use magic. These characters can sense the presence and activity of the god, so discover who's moving things behind the scenes. What makes this so interesting is that, while detected, the presence of the god isn't directly explained. People can detect gods but can't detect their intentions. And all this leads to a kind of passive observation filled with fears, because if a god is there and is meddling, then no good things can come out of it. Power draws power and soon it will be a mess for everyone. And if you want to live, you have to anticipate the gods' moves.
It's like a labyrinth. You on a side, a god (minotaur) from the other. You can't see through walls, so you can't see where the minotaur is moving. But you KNOW it's there, and you have to find the exit all the while avoiding to face the minotaur.
This means that for the most part the Deus Ex Machina is inside the plot itself, and not an external intervention of the writer. But there’s also a part, 2/3 into the book, and then the end itself, with a row of fortuitous encounters that are a bit too convenient and feel forced. So there’s still a bit of external leading and "lucky" intersections, which is an even bigger flaw because the plot was already solid enough to not need it at all.
The relationship between men and gods is, after all, the theme. Erikson is an archaeologist and deals with the effects of cultures. With gods all around, men don’t have the control of their own lives. They are preys. Tools. They feel desperate, hopeless, with a sense of doom. At the same time they still fight the hopeless war. And being hopeless makes them unpredictable. Leading to acts of sacrifice and heroism. The quality of men versus gods.
This book isn't simple to get into. Both because it's multi layered and because of some of the flaws explained above. But it also sets in motion a truly epic saga that is evocative and fascinating in all its parts. With a powerful imagery and epic scope that is unparalleled in the whole genre. The end of the book, while accelerating to a maddening speed, manages to both wrap the plot in a satisfying way and lay the premises for at least the next two books, so that it puts in you the curiosity to follow through.
It requires more than the usual attention and work from the reader. Tolerance to apparent dead ends and continuous POV changes. To unclarity, opaqueness, hidden purposes, misleadings. Faith in the writer. That's a lot to ask, but it pays back with a setting with an unprecedented scope and depth.
He drew another satisfied breath of steamy air. "We must needs await, at the end, the spin of a coin. In the meantime, of course, wondrous food beckons."
Submitted by Abalieno on March 19, 2008 - 17:04.
Once again a sketch from the limited edition of "Gardens of the Moon". The siege at Pale (and all this happens in chapter 2):
Image taken as always from Pat's blog.
I'm done writing the review of the book and quite pleased with it, as it's not excessively long and I was still able to include most of my notes. I haven't posted it yet simply because I'm 80 pages from the end of the book and I want to hold it till I'm absolutely sure that those remaining pages don't change my view.
Submitted by Abalieno on March 7, 2008 - 19:35.
In my books review I avoided giving numerical votes because when I look back I usually disagree with myself. It happens often that you find you gave an higher vote to a book you liked less than another.
This happens because votes and ladders are used and useful as a comparative thing. But this also means that votes are going to change as you read more and have a broader view. The vote is relative to what you read.
So I was thinking how I would rate those books I read recently. Here is my current ladder:
9+ The Blade Itself - Simply brilliant, and I keep grinning every time I think about it. Oodles of charisma.
9 The Black Company - The first book. Perfect structure and really accomplished.
7.5 The Great Hunt - Jordan's second. I liked it a lot, flows really well. I didn't like where most people say it gets better (the end), but I still rate it high because it kept me hooked.
7+ and 8+ Gardens of the Moon - Here is Erikson. Two votes because one is objective (the lower) and the other subjective (higher). The fact is that I love the setting and scope, so this adds a subjective value, but at the same time I recognize some flaws and so I would rate it lower.
6.7 Shadows Linger - Glen Cook's second. It was much weaker than the first. Too awkward and weird. I expected more.
6.5 and 7.5 The Eye of the World - Jordan's first. In this case subjective is 6.5, objective is 7.5, the opposite of Erikson. Fact is that I was bored by the type of plot. I read it already and this book is for the most part a rip off of Tolkien. Too many parallels. At the same time (objective vote) it's really well planned and executed. In its kind it's one of the best if not the best, but for someone who already read fantasy it feels redundant and gives deja-vus.
Submitted by Abalieno on March 4, 2008 - 02:05.
I'm reading the first book very slowly. Not because it feels too complex or too boring, but just because I want to give it time and enjoy it. It will be hard to summarize all the notes and comments I've taken but it should happen in a couple of more weeks.
In the meantime there's a very good summary of the series as a whole on Fantasy Book Critic. Lots of praises, some I don't completely agree with, as Erikson doesn't completely delivers on the front of characters. But all the flaws I noticed are still small quirks that don't get in the way of the overall enjoyment.
There was also an interesting thread with polls about the books. What makes it interesting is that with fantasy series, especially long ones, there's a general consensus about whose books are better or worse. As you can see from those polls when it comes to Erikson every reader has a different opinion. Someone's favorite book is often someone's worst, and in most cases the order shifts considerably. The only few rules is that most people loved the third (Memories of Ice) and the second (Deadhouse Gates), while the first is usually considered the worse. In between the remaining ones (4, 5, 6, 7) whose preferences shift incredibly. The fourth is the classic average, the fifth is either loved or hated, as it's a bit more detached from habit of the series. Then the sixth is a very long transition, and the seventh a "hit or miss" case, as most plots come together and so drawing more "opinionated" comments.
Eventually I'll get there to comment myself. Maybe.
For those who already read everything the Prologue of Toll the Hounds is out. But then I'm sure you already know. The book (hardcover only) is out in UK at the end of June (along with Esslemont's own). Beginning of April for the mass market edition of Reaper's Gale (still UK, in US out *now* as TPB). I've already planned two nice combo orders from amazon.co.uk: beginning of April for Abercrombie's last+Erikson's 7th, and end of June for Erikson's 8th+Esslemont.
Submitted by Abalieno on February 22, 2008 - 01:56.
After all the complaints for the first time Steven Erikson gets good art for a cover of his book:
Sadly it is only for the super collector edition of Gardens of the Moon for "just" $125. One wonders why good artists can't be used for those editions that are supposed to sell a lot more and face larger competition.
The image shows Anomander Rake, in the background there are his Great Ravens and that flying mountain is Moon's Spawn. Anomander Rake is actually supposed to sit on top of it.
The sword he shows there is supposed to be even bigger, and misses particle effects:
A two-handed sword was strapped to Rake's broad back, its silver dragonskull pommel and archaic crosshilt jutting from a wooden scabbard fully six and a half feet long. From the weapon bled power, staining the air like black ink in a pool of water.
Submitted by Abalieno on February 7, 2008 - 15:54.
I mean Brandon Sanderson, the one who's going to complete Robert Jordan's last book in the Wheel of Time.
On his blog he's writing down comments about his reading through the entire series before he starts doing the real writing. Quite interesting.
I'll probably only do one post for the first book, then, which is a tragedy, since it has long been one of my favorites of the series. I also feel that it will be VERY important to writing Book Twelve. The Wheel turns; ages become new again and ideas return. I feel that the last book of the series should have numerous hearkenings back to this first book; that will give a sense of closure to this section of the Pattern and fit with the motif of the Wheel's turning.
That's just my gut instinct, and I'm not promising anything specific or even referencing material from the Twelfth Book. I'm only speaking of my general feelings as a writer, but Mr. Jordan's notes are far more important than any of my instincts.
On this point I disagree. The WOT is also a growth novel. From the point of view of Rand the main theme is about how things escalate and get out of hand. So while he always thought he would become "adult" in his village, he doesn't return and is rather forced to grow and start seeing everything under a different light. Along with despair and responsibility.
This to say that, imho, the first book should return in the last as a distant memory of childhood. You look back at things with some curiosity and fondness, but, as it happens, also with a sense of estrangement. It's a weird mix of feelings, and it's also shared ground between ALL readers. As all of them started reading this series so long ago, and looking back is both familiar and yet very strange.
So more of the sense of "closure", I would give it a sense of mismatching. Things that won't return, along with a sense of loss. I think that a complete "happy end" without tradeoffs doesn't fit well the series.
On the rest he writes I agree, especially on his view on Nynaeve.
Submitted by Abalieno on January 23, 2008 - 13:53.
I finally started reading "Gardens of the Moon".
Through the pallor of smoke ravens wheeled. Their calls raised a shrill chorus above the cries of wounded and dying soldiers. The stench of seared flesh hung unmoving in the haze.
On the third hill overlooking the fallen city of Pale, Tattersail stood alone. Scattered around the sorceress the curled remains of burnt armour — greaves, breastplates, helms and weapons — lay heaped in piles. An hour earlier there had been men and women wearing that armour, but of them there was no sign. The silence within those empty shells rang like a dirge in Tattersail's head.
For all the smells and sounds surrounding Tattersail, she found herself listening to a deeper silence. In some ways it came from the empty armour surrounding her, an absence that was in itself an accusation. But there was another source of the silence. The sorcery that had been unleashed here today had been enough to fray the fabric between the worlds. Whatever dwelt beyond, in the Warrens of Chaos, felt close enough to reach out and touch.
On the plain below, the bodies of Malazan soldiers covered the ground, a rumpled carpet of dead. Limbs jutted upward here and there, ravens perching on them like overlords. Soldiers who had survived the slaughter wandered in a daze among the bodies, seeking fallen comrades.
Just at page 60 as writing notes on the wiki is taking quite a bit of time. I probably read on forums and blogs more about Erikson and his series than all the words written in the first book. So I know well what to expect, the criticism and so on.
One aspect people complained about is the prose. I also found those critics often enough to believe that they are actually founded.
But I'm failing to understand what is that people don't like. I expected the writing to be more uneven and crude than what I found.
Submitted by Abalieno on January 22, 2008 - 12:54.
What a kickass interview:
As a diehard grognardian world-junkie myself, I obviously disagree.
Worldbuilding either is or is not "necessary" depending on the effects the writer is hoping to achieve. Of course Harrison would say that worldbuilders, such as myself, are trying to achieve the wrong effects. Detailing a world beyond the technical requirements of the story, the implication is, simply turns readers into literary shopkeepers with inventories to keep and no meaningful choices to make. Thus the frightening psychology: apparently the worldbuilder’s goal is to cretinize their readers, keep’em dumb and distracted so that they can be better exploited by the powers that be.
For Harrison, who is an avowed post-modernist, the reader should be continually confronted with the performative as opposed to the representational function of language. They should be reminded (apparently over and over and over) of the power of words to spin realities, to the point where the work becomes a multifarious, promiscuous, meaning event (albeit one that is too often generated by the most mechanical of po-mo tactics, elision). Forcing the reader to draw whole characters out of fragments, narrative arcs out of discordant events - to "fulfill their part of the bargain" - this is the true way to make the reader an active part of the process, and so a critically minded, enlightened citizen.
I don’t know whether to laugh or yawn anymore. For better or worse, readers without literature degrees tend to hate this stuff. They like coherent characters and stories and settings. So when you start screwing with "representational expectations" (in other words, unilaterally rewriting the "bargain") by and large all you end up doing is preaching to the choir, writing for people with literature degrees, which is to say, for people who already share your values. In other words, you simply end up catering to their expectations. You become an "upscale" version of the very commercial entertainers you continually denigrate.
We’re hardwired for this shit, which is why you see the same pattern repeating itself over and over in every sphere of cultural production. Every sphere has a self-styled elite who both identify and flatter themselves via their values, then criticize others for not sharing those values. "Our values are the values and you guys are losers because of this and this and this..."
Also some infos about the upcoming duology, now a trilogy (first book probably not out before 2009):
Well, I can’t say it’ll be a duology anymore, because in the course of writing it ended taking a parallel form: the story breaks into three natural parts. The first book, The Judging Eye, does the same kind of frame-setting work that The Darkness That Comes Before does in The Prince of Nothing - only without the super-steep learning curve! The second, The Shortest Path, will be a travelogue, much like The Warrior-Prophet, and the third... well let’s just say we’ll be a long time cleaning the fan! One difference, I think, is that the relative lengths of the books will be inverted. The Judging Eye will be the shortest, and I anticipate the final book will be far longer than The Thousandfold Thought, which picked up on the doorstep of Shimeh. This could complicate things, since I would like to include an updated Encyclopaedic Glossary. Maybe I’ll have to break down and do a separate omnibus - but that just feels like a cash grab. Cheesy.
There's more to read beside these quotes.
Submitted by Abalieno on January 21, 2008 - 14:04.
On Westeros boards there's a fun thread of the kind of "Who's stronger, the Hulk or the Thing?" Just about new fantasy writers.
Abercrombie is dominating. See? My opinion can't be that crazy if it's so widely shared.
Can't comment about the others since I haven't read them. But I really doubt they can top my preference.
By the way, there's still Scott Bakker who may still have wiped em off (considering what I've read on that forum), but he wasn't as recent, so out the poll.
Submitted by Abalieno on January 21, 2008 - 09:36.
Mediawiki is the engine of the well known Wikipedia, that you can download to make your own specialized thing.
I installed it because I figured out that I could keep my notes about Erikson's books (I started now) better organized. I know there's already a wiki for it, but the first page I opened was filled with spoilers.
So I decided to install one here locally where I transcribe my notes. Then I also thought how it could eventually be made useful to others. Because in the end it would bring the same problems of the other.
My idea is not too complex, but I wish to know some php programming to make it work. Basically you use a "cookie" on the browser with the user preferences. These preferences are: book read, and page. The idea is that Wiki only shows all the informations that are part of what you read. For example if you are at page 300 of book 4, you'll see all that is known till that point, with the rest hidden.
And on the side of the wikipedia you make this work with simple syntax, so that you write down on the wiki adding page and books tag. So for example you are writing an entry about a character and divide each section with updates and new information with a book & page tag, so that this ideal module would them display only "safe" infos.
Now I'm wondering about a compromise, to obtain a similar result, but without php programming...
Submitted by Abalieno on January 18, 2008 - 19:58.
 Second book of a trilogy, but also part of a series of ten books in total. I didn't comment the first book, but I read it. It was wonderful.
In order to explain what I think about this second book, I have to explain a few things about the first, because I started reading with some expectations and those expectations had a weight on my opinion about the book. The fact is that I loved the first book. For its setting, its pace, its structure. It's from many points of view a "perfect" book. Every piece fits together and it's masterfully planned and executed. In 310 pages Glen Cook wraps up an epic campaign that other authors would pan for thee books of 600+ pages. And this without leaving you feeling like you missed something.
The structure (first book, not this one) is probably the very best quality and what sets the book apart. Seven chapters, about 60 pages each. Each of these chapters are "standalone", in the sense that you could read one in the middle of the book without feeling like you are missing a piece of the story, and so can't understand what the hell is going on. Each also has its start, development and conclusions. So each chapter feels like a novella on its own. This isn't all, the real quality is that not only the story is wrapped up perfectly around this structure, but that each chapter/novella adds plot elements and characters that contribute and move steadily onward the overall story that spans the whole book. It feels as modern as possible, like it happens now with the most successful TV series, that need, from a side being self-contained to be accessible to who didn't follow every episode and remembers every detail, and from the other plot elements that link all the episodes together, giving the series its continuity and overall development. So no stalling. The Black Company follows the same principle and Glen Cook executed this masterfully in this first book. It couldn't have been plotted and structured better. I had a few minor complaints (like how some "spoilers" were handled) but they are just small details toward the end.
I consider that book exceptional because it's as steady as possible. There's no slacking, no slows down, no weak parts. In 310 pages the author shows how he has perfect control over his story. And it's very good, with plenty of unexpected and clever twists. With an end that doesn't disappoint. The story could have just ended there, but it didn't.
I don't know if more books were planned from the beginning, the flow of the second book isn't perfectly smooth, but still coherent enough to not give the feel of something artificially excused. The real problem is that the structure that made the first book wonderful, was completely discarded for this sequel. Instead of long chapters and self contained stories, we have this time a linear plot developing through the book, and organized with very short chapters (often just 4-5 pages) and an attempt to do different POV. I honestly didn't like this choice as it gives a too fragmented feel. On the other side the chapters are so short that you keep turning the pages and read more as the next "exit" point is just two pages away, and the end of one chapter always making you wish to turn the page and look for other developments.
Gone the mastery of the structure, but also gone the overall "feel". No more the militaresque campaign, but a bend toward a "spook", supernatural theme, leaving you with the impression you are reading a fantasy version of Dracula. I was disappointed because I wanted more of the same, and instead I found something much different, with a plot much, much less inspired and deep. In fact I was much deluded by this second book, but as I went on reading it captured my interest more.
The first 2/3 of the book present two plots, one encapsulating the other. The book wasn't a complete disappointment because I think Glen Cook achieved his purpose. This purpose was to make readers care more about the inner plot, instead of the outer. Without spoilering much, there's an "outer" plot still about the Lady and the Dominator fighting each other, with the Black Company caught in between, just trying to survive and choose the lesser evil. With the Dominator rising his castle near a small town lost up the north of the world, forgotten by all. The "inner" plot is instead about the day-to-day miserable life of the people of that town. These two plots initially made distinct also geographically as the scenes with the Company happen at the other side of the world, also used to show how the Lady uses liberally the Company, tossed from one side of the world to the other. You start reading with all the hype once again on the Black Company (the first scene is superb, from the point of view of kids to return the reader the sense of wonder and badassness of the Company), but progressively the focus moves toward those who look like minor characters, and that instead become major ones. In fact Glen Cook artificially zones out the Black Company itself to narrate a "covert" operation with just a few members of it, that are "flown" far away. So there's already here the will to move away from the theme and execution of the first book.
Even in this case, though, the trick that holds the second book is the same of the first: small things affecting big things. Just applied to a different context. The whole coolness of the first book was "watching" the normal men of the Black Company walk among much powerful beings. Giving the impression of gods walking among men. But gods made of flesh, powerful and intimidating, but with their own weakness. And then the fun of watching clever men fuck with the power of these gods. Because you shouldn't underestimating the Black Company. This shift of power and point of view from the bottom was what made the first book awesome. In the second book this theme is applied differently, there's less the same kind of direct confrontation, but the mess-up that feeds the story is still about some smallish acts that generate a disaster. Just think at the miserable people of this lost town, just thinking selfishly how to survive the next winter, stealing money to each other, all caught in their personal dramas... While a black castle is growing just over their shoulders, growing on their filth and miserableness.
And then you have the climax: huge glowing balls rolling around, invisible giant feet stomping the ground, flying carpets airstrikes, eggs exploding into fire and a black castle made of goo and smelling pretty bad too.
Before it all happens, though, there's another strong point of the book, that is the return of the Company into the scene. And also the demonstration of why and how they are cool: Get things done. Quickly. Efficiently. Competently.
Then the mess. And, as you may guess from my words above, a really weird mess. Even if helped by the strong realistic way Glen Cook has to describe things. While the scene presented is so surreal to be silly, it's still described in a "serious" way that makes it still consistent and believable. Even if I have to say that the descriptions of the first book were more inspired, beautiful and better written. The prose of this second book in general has a slight dip in quality.
Those five immediately encountered the portal from elsewhere that expelled the cold breath of the infinite. They all perished.
And once again it's interesting the contrast. The weird magery stuff from a side, and the concreteness, down-to-earth approach and mindset that the Company has.
Another aspect I was thinking about but that isn't underlined in the book, is how there's a sort of meta-fiction. The book you are reading that you have in your hands, exists also in the fictional world as a physical entity. In fact it's written in first person, and the protagonists writes and "records" what happens, as it is his other duty within the Company, the annalist. So sometimes there are references at how the book itself was saved from danger. Because it's implied that if you have it in your hands, then it would have been saved somehow. As if the Company really existed.
Last thing about the style: as I said the book is written, like the first, in first person. But feeling like third. Even more so in this book than the first Glen Cook plays with this concept. It's not present tense, as the events are "recorded" by the annalist, and this time there's an attempt at different POV, so scenes where the writer isn't directly present, and so written in third person. It's a book written in first person but where the writer is not the protagonist, only an "observer" that, due to the context, is also sometimes present physically and doing things. It's interesting.
All in all the book disappointed me because the militaresque feel I liked and the cleverness of the plot is mostly gone, replaced by an unimaginative spook theme that was kept throughout the whole book (instead of occupying just one chapter and then moving on, as in the first book). The writing is a bit worse, the structure and plot not as good. But at the same time it's not as deluding as I initially thought. It's as if Glen Cook started from an awful concept, but managed to still pour good things into it. I don't consider this an exceptional book, especially because I keep comparing it with the first and in no way it can stand that comparison. But, on its own, I enjoyed reading it and the Company has still not lost any charisma.
Glen Cook has less aces up his sleeve, but he still knows how to play the game.
Submitted by Abalieno on January 17, 2008 - 14:02.
Not all of them since I'm waiting for Bakker's one, but the Amazon shipment has arrived:
   
Mostly monothematic this month.
I usually buy the books in their US version from an Italian online shop, but in this case I wanted the UK versions of the Erikson's books because they make a better product with overall better covers, and Abercrombie is also first published in the UK, so I got them together in one shipment from Amazon.co.uk.
Before They Are Hanged - Joe Abercrombie (440 pag.)
Second book in the trilogy. The first I already read and commented. This second one is supposed to be even better, and the third even better then the second (with the expectation of one epic battle as well), if you trust the usual reviewers. I do, and in fact I read Abercrombie because of the positive reviews and blurb on the forums. I wasn't disappointed, in fact it was much better than expected and also the kind of book you continue to think about even after you are done reading. It's just that good.
Receiving the book I was both pleased and disappointed. Disappointed because I got this huge version, while I have "The Blade Itself" as a much smaller book. This fooled me because I didn't anticipate the difference as I thought I got the two books in the same format. Instead I didn't. Both are "paperback", but after a quick research I discovered that the paperback in the format I wanted isn't even out yet. So now I have mismatched books, but it's the same because while I could have waited to buy this book in the matching version, I wouldn't then wait another year to get the third. I was also pleased because it's a so beautiful edition. The image of the cover doesn't do it justice. The words are like carved on the paper and there's this magic circle in silver that is only visible on the picture if you squint a lot (and probably only if you know it's there). The pages are also thicker. Looks meaner.
I have this stupid obsession over the pagecount/wordcount. Even if I know well that quantity means nothing, I still have a childish passion for huge books. So I was slightly disappointed to know this second book had "only" 440 pages instead of the 514 of the first. I want more! But then it's not a smaller book, in fact I suspect the wordcount is about the same as there are just more words on one page. So it's about the exact same size.
I'm tempted to start reading *right now* and I keep grinning thinking about the first book, but I'll resist.
House of Chains - Midnight Tides - The Bonehunters - Steven Erikson (1015, 932 and 1202 pag.)
If I like to check thickness and wordcount, I can only be pleased of Erikson just by the sheer size. Soooo pretty massive tomes. And a saga of ten books, plus spin-offs. That's another reason why I have to like him, there's so much to read that I hope it will be all awesomely awesome. All three books use the exact same typeset, so the number of page is indicative of actual size. Not so much comparing them to other authors, as, oddly, there are just 37 lines of text on a page, compared to a standard of 40-42. So usually take about 150 pages from the total count to have an idea. Still impressive.
Erikson's books also have the very best maps (and more than one for each book). I know the presence of a maps is debatable as there are both advantages and disadvantages, but in this case they probably help with the scope. You'll be confused enough by the habit of Erikson of not explaining a damn thing that you don't want to be confused by the geography and where-is-what as well. Just an example: the first book begins at the Mock's Hold, on top of a cliff and in the city of Malaz. At the time I started looking for "Malaz" on the map for a long while without finding it. You would guess that the "Malazan" empire that gives the name to the series should be on the map. But it isn't because it's not even on the same continent the map in the book is about. Instead looking at other books you find out where Malaz really is, and, today in Bonehunters (book 6), I find a good map of the city itself. And while Erikson description were very good, it's still refreshing to have a better and doubt-free look at it.
Does someone have the US version of House of Chains? Because as I expected looking at the maps online, that map is not printed exactly well, and it misses the central section. Since in the two US Erikson books I have the maps are printed better, I wonder if that map is too.
Anyway, I'm about to start from book 1. In the meantime I should also write some comments about that second book of the Black Company I just read. I can anticipate it was a bit deluding.
Oh, and the cover of Toll the Hounds is out. As I commented over there, I don't like it much as it doesn't present well the book. Looks too much like a spook/supernatural book. And Erikson needs something that shows the qualities of his books, so wide scope, scale, sense of wonder. Neither the US or the UK covers underline those qualities.
It also looks to much like the annoying Beast in that Witcher game.
Submitted by Abalieno on January 15, 2008 - 12:43.
It looks my monthly shipment of books will take slightly longer than expected.
On the tracking page the package seems lost somewhere into Germany. On flight and waiting for delivery I also have a package with the American hardcover first edition of "The Darkness That Comes Before" (the one with the pretty cover), and some drugs (well, not really) I bought from here.
The plan is that I finish the second book of the Black Company in two/three days (I keep delaying it even if I'm just 80 pages from the end) and then start to finally *work* on Erikson. I want to keep a good pace even if I still read very slowly by other blogs standards. About a book every month, fitting that second book by Abercrombie somewhere, so that I can then order Abercombie's third and Erikson's seventh at the same time since they have similar release dates (March/April). Then continue the epic reading task of Erikson up to book 7 and in time for the Hardcover edition out for June/July of "Toll the Hounds" (book 8), as announced. Which should also be out along with the huge tome of Esslemont also set in the Malazan world.
Plenty to read, and even if I still haven't read anything to Erikson, I HAVE TO like it, because he tries to do exactly what I want from fantasy. And if he fails I have little hopes to find it somewhere else. Not that the genre is arid, see my recent comments about "The Blade Itself".
I read that Erikson is already well into book 9, and expects to complete it even before book 8 is out. I think this is the first case EVER of a writer who not only respects the schedule, but that is AHEAD of it. I have high hopes that the series will be complete by January 2010, and, no matter of personal tastes, Malazan will surely be the most ambitious fantasy project ever realized.
There's also this aspect I wanted to discuss. You may think that when a writer pushes out books too fast they will feel rushed. While a writer like, say, Martin, takes his time and rewrite endlessly chapters till they aren't absolutely perfect. So you have this different approach. From a side books that are made to last, going as close as possible to perfection (art). And then books that are considered like "consumables", so they need to be pushed out in time, see a sudden, short-lived success, and then disappear (commodities).
Well, I have instead a very high respect for those writers who work their asses off, and don't wait for "inspiration" before starting to write a word on a page. Writing is still "work". It's fatiguing, and if you aren't fatigued it doesn't work. As a matter of fact, it's almost a rule that those books that come out quickly in a series are usually the best, and those that get delayed, and then delayed more, almost always finish to disappoint and reveal a dip in the quality. This, I think, because writing is a matter of complete immersion. Either you lose your life to be completely absorbed by it, or it doesn't work. There is no other way to write a book than your blood.
When it comes to books it seems in practice that more time almost never equals to better quality. But the opposite.
I also noticed that my don't-call-me-review of "The Blade Itself" was linked by Abercrombie himself. So I guess I'm losing my "covert", low-profile purposes for the drift of this blog toward books. I like staying anonymous. On the other side I feel like I got more "validation" in two months writing sporadically about fantasy books than three years writing daily, and more competently, about MMOs. But then, who cares. Validation isn't between the goals, and I'll "reward" Abercrombie by being very harsh with his second book ;)
Anyway, to those landing here for the first time, remember that I'm not English native speaking. So I try to write as I can, hoping it can be at least interesting for an occasional reader.
Submitted by Abalieno on January 4, 2008 - 14:18.
Going from Abercrombie to the second book of the Black Company feels like crashing against a block of granite.
The prose... Glen Cook just seems to try very hard to not be easily readable.
Submitted by Abalieno on January 3, 2008 - 11:09.
 Review in short:
Go buy and read it no matter of your personal tastes. This book won't disappoint.
I have a bunch of notes scattered around and I'm not sure if I can put them together in a coherent way. In part because my opinion changed through the course of the book. I usually just need a few pages to form a good idea. 30 pages of Glen Cook's Black Company were enough to give me a precise idea of what I was going to read, same for Donaldson's first book in the Gap series (just to name two I've read recently). With this one instead it was different and only starting form Part 2 (about 200 pages into the book) I started to truly like it. Then it was a steady crescendo.
Some general infos: The Blade Itself is a first book in a trilogy already completed (the third book is due out soon in the UK) and a debut of a relatively young writer (early thirties). Kind of a "modern" fantasy. It has the different POVs written in third person but still as a subjective view, as is habit nowadays, and is (feels) very far from the "already seen". Feels "fresh", actual. The overall plot itself doesn't shine in originality, but I think it's a misleading element. I also read some reviews about the book before I start reading it and all of them said it was the old plot, old characters but with a funny and original twist. This is true but misleading. It's not the way the book feels. It's not just a critical approach to a tired and stale genre, it's not a "what if" or a simple exercise revolving around a gimmick. You don't have to have fantasy knowledge to appreciate the style Abercrombie gives to old ideas. Instead it stands on its own. This book is awesome and just doesn't need and doesn't want to be compared to something else in order to spill its own value. It's not good in relation to something else, it is good on its own.
The point being that throughout the book I didn't thought at this sublayer of wit. I didn't felt detached enough to give it the cold analysis. Instead it worked on the emotional side. And moving toward the end I really cared for the characters, felt the story emotionally, and I couldn't-care-less about the supposed academical exercise about "old fantasy cliches with new twists".
I define it "modern" in the sense of mastery. Take for example the current TV series. Sometimes lacking in ideas, but the *writing* itself today is much more developed and effective. There has been tangible progress. The pacing, the sharp conversations, the wit. These abstract aspects taken from television carry over to this book. It is far from the archaic feel of Tolkien, of the evocation of distant worlds. It is instead modern, sparky, fresh. It is also written with the knowledge of the culture, so those kind of stereotypical situations that appear in the book are always surprising because you never know in which direction the writer will drive them. There was one review that said "It's written with more wit than most writers use in their entire career" and it is true. There is no filler in the book and every page brings on something ingenious to the point that you wonder if the author can really keep up this pacing through the whole book.
So the pacing. When I started reading I was skeptical. Very skeptical. A new author, so I started to nitpick things, imagining flaws, criticizing in my head every page, every description. 100 pages in, I was not impressed. Funny, witty, yes. But not impressed. It seemed to go nowhere, the characters were interesting but I still looked at them with a very detached eye. I was amused, but not involved. You know, reading with a kind of air of superiority. The book didn't seem that good. Felt a writer who was trying hard, but too hard. Like falling short of the point. Good try, slap on the shoulder.
Why it changed then? Is the remaining of the book so much better that it surprised me? Not really. There are no sharp turns or sudden improvements of quality. The book, as I said, is uniform and with a steady crescendo. What was different is that I started "caring" and felt there. I stopped criticizing, I stopped caring about picking (imaginary) flaws and just was carried away in the story.
Now this may be a personal thing, but there are some objective considerations to make. The beginning of the book wants to be fast and catching, but suffers of its own structure. There are a few different POVs as is typical of "modern" fantasy but the scenes are brief so you read very small chunks of different stories and this makes kind of hard to get involved and absorbed into them. It feels fragmentary. You need to wait at least 200 pages before some threads come together, till you discover that the small chunks all belong to the same plot, like branches of a river. On the other side there's something "catching" even if you don't know enough of the story, the characters and the scenes. That pays back and entertains while you wait to grasp what is going on as the situations are fun and witty, with characters sharply characterized and so dissimilar that it's hard to favor one or the other. They are just impossible to compare and seem to belong to entirely different stories and styles (which is a manifest purpose of the writer: give each POV its own style, even in the writing).
So this fragmentation didn't help to get hooked into the story. It's hard to feel there when you don't see "the point" and the scenes feel disconnected. At the same time, now that I read the whole book, I don't think it's a "flaw". It's just a structural weakness of what the author wanted to do, but I don't think it could have been done better. It even becomes a theme in the book. Quoting:
If you're going to travel with a man, and maybe fight alongside him, It's best to talk, and laugh if you can. That way you can get an understanding, and then a trust. Trust is what binds a band together, and out there in the wilds that can make the difference between living or dying. Building that kind of trust takes time, and effort.
This is a autoreferential metaphor for the reader and the book, how both need time to slowly develop that kind of "friendship".
The other particular aspect is that the book feels like theater. This is a strong impression that I had while reading. There are writers, think for example Jordan, that follow their characters all the way. The narrative is continue and it's like the writer never leaves them. It flows in detail. Abercrombie is the exact opposite of this. The whole book is structured in relatively brief scenes, with one setting. You don't get to follow the various characters, instead you have small slices of their lives, taken at critical points. You don't get to follow them, you read instead just about key moments and scenes that drive the plot and character development.
This aspect is important because it defines a particular approach that you read about in every other review. You can easily detach the characters (live actors) from the background scenography, that is static. Often the scenes take place into a single room or another symbolic space, and when the scene is over the whole setting disappears and is replaced. Ceases to exist. Feels like you are watching theater, live actor with scenery in the background, with relatively short but significant moments represented. Like Shakespeare made fantasy and prose, but with the distillation of meaning, so that you get no "filler" that is typical of epic fantasy plots. Everything superfluous is chopped off.
It is meaningful because, as others would say, Abercrombie isn't the worldbuilder writer. You aren't here to read about secondary worlds with complex history, you aren't here for that emergent layer. That's treated as scenery. It's just the set-up, where the strong point is instead about the live actors. The characters, the introspection, the witty, sharp conversations, the black humor, the sarcasm. It's all very effective and gives the classic fantasy setup a refreshing feel.
The story starts spread out, then gets together, spreads out again before the end. In the latter chapters the writer does some showmanship, instead of binding one scene and chapter to one POV, he chains them. This is fantastic. You basically see the exact same scene from the various POV (so short paragraphs) that you got to know through the book. One after the other, in the same scene. There's no repetition, you don't get the next POV re-telling the same you just read, but the time is instead continuous, flows, and yet you see how much the different POV completely twists the perception of the story. This is pure mastery, from a side you recognize how each character definitely has an unique voice and is perfectly defined, from the other it makes the read compelling, never slogging, and all part of the crescendo.
I start reading and thought the writer was good but average. When I reached the end I simply thought that I don't have any right to criticize him. He isn't a good writer, he is one of the very best. He isn't a young writer trying to do something with his first novel, he's already a worthy "first tier". He is no rookie, no need to improve. He is an excellent writer and surprising too.
One critique I have on my notes and that I still find valid, from the perspective of the writing, is about the "retrofitting". There are two different kinds of writers, those who give you just a summary of the action, and those who describe a battle blow by blow, precisedly described. Abercrombie falls in the latter and is rather good at it. Only flaw for me as a reader is that, while the action is consistent, I still had some difficulties to follow it, so had to reread a few passages to have them clear in my mind. The problem with this is a kind of uneven balance in the way he describes things. So sometimes there's a lack of focus on what's more important and not enough on some minor element, with the consequence that the "picture" in the mind of the reader comes confused if not corrected.
I can compare this quirk with Jordan as I recently read it. With Jordan I'm never confused. When I read I picture a scene in my mind, with the elements described. It's something automatic. Sometimes I don't notice consciously elements I put in my picture, then I go check and they are there in the text too. For example the book may described a scene in a big room, and I have it in my mind, then I notice the picture I have has the room with a domed ceiling. I don't remember if I imagined it or read in the description but when I go checking the text I notice it's there. As I said Jordan is always perfectly consistent. I never need to correct the picture I had, I never need to "reposition" characters on a scene because one I pictured on the right is instead on the left or behind. With Abercrombie instead I have some problems. While he is consistent, as I said, he is more confusing. Just as an example he may start to describe the rain in a paragraph, then describe the woods in the next. The characters are in the woods and it's raining, but it's more difficult forming the picture if you think of the rain, then have to add the woods. I'd give more "weight" to the woods. And this is a very small example of a writing habit that I found through the book and that not only applies to the descriptions, but also to the plot. The writer never gives more elements than those that are absolutely necessary for that immediate scene. Often you miss huge chunks of both descriptions and plots, that you read later in the book and have to "retrofit" into the Big Picture. It's not a flaw per se, but I wanted to point it out.
In particular you can take one of the three major POV (but there are a bunch of characters in the book). Logen, as a main character, is vaguely described at the beginning. It's like you see things in first person perspective. Wihtout a mirror you can't see yourself (so Logen). And it's in fact till the second half of the book that you actually have the character physically described. Through the reactions/eyes of other people. While this is again some writing showmanship, you also in this case have to "retrofit" things. You may have imagined Logen in your head in a way, but then only halfway through the book you have more elements that may contradict your arbitrary mental "image". As a demonstration of this I didn't like in a special way Logen, but in the second half of the book I was completely in love. One of the very best characters EVER. I was laughing out loud at some passages. He's great. And yet he's a kind of barbarian stereotype that you have branded in your memory, and yet he feels like something you never read before.
There's also a very small POV. A party of characters. Just a few chapters here and there through the course of the book. But it is some of the very best shit I've ever read. The most fun fighting and BADASS party ever. I'm out of superlatives but these guys deserve more. Just a few pages and they deserve the price of the book, and I so hope they have more space in the progressing of the story. I don't want to spoiler but once again they show how good Abercrombie is. Short scenes, a party of characters, and in just a few lines he gives each one splendid, awesome characterization. While the main, more complex POV had to grow on me, with these guys it was love on first sight. They are something special. It's all about one word: charisma. And tons of it. Make you laugh, and some of the best, yet totally realistic fighting. Brutal, exciting.
So I think I've written down everything I have on my notes. The theatrical feel, top notch writer, focus on the character, great emotional involvement for me, but only starting with the second half of the book. Some (many) absolutely A-W-E-S-O-M-E characters, especially smaller ones (like Brother Longfoot and that "party"). One thing I forgot to point out, the "acting" isn't overly realistic, but made slightly showy and excessive, exactly like theater works. At the same time the characters themselves are totally consistent with themselves, their situation and the setting. So while the whole pictures comes a bit bloated, it's still absolutely believable.
Oh, and I have this image stuck in my head, Malacus Quai looking like Steve Buscemi.
By the way, the author has the best blog. Updated frequently, informative and funny.
Monday I order the second book through Amazon, along with more books from Erikson. But now I'm going to read something I already have on my pile. Still haven't decided (likely the second book of the Black Company, as it is a short read).
Submitted by Abalieno on December 29, 2007 - 07:36.
Did I get your attention? ;)
I'm just skimming through other fantasy blogs and found some interesting tidbits (that will ultimately somewhat justify the title). The first is an article written by China Miéville, unconventional fantasy writer between the most praised and known for his books set in the city-state of New Crobuzon. Think Burroughs' Naked Lunch mixed with urban fantasy, Starship Trooper's bugs and a strong steampunk vibe.
Tolkien - Middle Earth Meets Middle England by China Miéville
He deliberately tried to sound antique and 'epic'. Cliches constantly snuffle up to us like moronic dogs. Laughter comes in 'torrents', brooks 'babble', and swords never fail to 'flash'. The dialogue sounds faintly ridiculous, like opera without the music. Even 50 years ago this cod Wagnerian pomposity was stilted and clumsy. 'Fey he seemed,' says JRR - in Middle Earth, rare the clause is that reversed isn't.
The linguistic cliches are matched by thematic ones. The stories are structured by moralist, abstract logic, rather than being grounded and organic. Tolkien wrote the seminal text for fantasy where morality is absolute, and political complexities conveniently evaporate. Battles are glorious and death is noble. The good look the part, and the evil are ugly. Elves are natural aristos, hobbits are the salt of the earth, and - in a fairyland version of genetic determinism - orcs are shits by birth. This is a conservative hymn to order and reason - to the status quo.
The hobbits' 'Shire' resembles a small town in the Home Counties, full of forelock-tugging peasants and happy artisans. Though he idealises the rural petty bourgeoisie, Tolkien treats them with enormous condescension. 'It would be a grievous blow', he says, if the Dark Power were to claim the Shire - to translate, if rural workers were industrialised. Because the good professor loves them so, with their hand-mills and their funny little rural ways. Not that he would want to be one, of course - good lord, no. He has a PhD, don't you know.
The second piece is a very long Q&A with Terry Goodkind that I found while reading Pat's Hotlist. He has a very gratuitous quote there but I wanted to read more about it and so followed the link to the whole Q&A.
I never read Goodkind, some of my friends read the first book and all agreed it was terrible. A fantasy soap opera with characters whining all the time. And on the westeros forums I read some truly abysmal excerpts that made me align with the very harsh critics you can read just about everywhere. Like this one that will remain in history:
The bird let out a slow chicken cackle. It sounded like a chicken, but in her heart she knew it wasn't. In that instant, she completely understood the concept of a chicken that was not a chicken. This looked like a chicken, like most of the Mud People's chickens. But this was no chicken. This was evil manifest.
So I went reading that Q&A with these kinds of bad expectations but I was surprised. He seems to answer each question with attention. While a bit pretentious in tone he seems to have very clear ideas in his mind, with very little left to the case and in a way that intrigued me. At least to delve and know more about those ideas. I'm always interested in those who seem to know all and do no show a doubt. I don't need to agree with a vision to be interested, as long it is founded on something.
Reading from the forums I know that people bitch at Goodkind mostly because of rape themes and because he openly tries to shove his own philosophical ideas down the readers' throats. And reading just the Q&A I can see from where it all comes. But at the same time I'm also intrigued and now willingly to try to read a series that is strongly subjective and that I know runs deeper than the level of the plot. The way Goodkind describes his work makes me believe that it was not superficial, and he motivates what he says, goes a great length into explaining it, so I'm rather sure it's there.
For example those parts where he explain the real main theme of some of the books:
In a good novel the theme is the abstract, the plot the concretes that explain that abstract. They are inseparable.
The theme of CHAINFIRE, for example, is belief in one’s self. The plot is one man’s struggle to prove what he believes to be true when everyone else thinks he is wrong. The theme of NAKED EMPIRE is the existence of evil. The plot is the struggle to get men to recognize evil for what it is, fight for their own lives, and to deserve victory.
The theme of FAITH OF THE FALLEN is the role of free will in man’s existence — the abstract concept of the importance of freedom to man’s existence. The plot is the battle for individual liberty in a altruistic-driven collectivist society. The concretes of Richard’s struggle make the abstract concept understandable and clear. (And because it is so clear it enrages those who want to cloud the issue so as to champion altruism; the naked hate they exhibit and vicious methods they use only go to prove the book’s point that altruism breeds force and brutality and produces only suffering.)
Which is also consistent with what Erikson wrote about fantasy: the most effective way to deliver a symbol. Make it real.
And this is the part with the gratuitous quote:
In that book Richard learned that democracy does not make something right. People use democracy as a free-floating abstraction disconnected from reality. Democracy in and of itself is not necessarily good. Gang rape, after all, is democracy in action.
All men have the right to live their own life. Democracy must be rooted in a rational philosophy that first and foremost recognizes the right of an individual. A few million Imperial Order men screaming for the lives of a much smaller number of people in the New World may win a democratic vote, but it does not give them the right to those lives, or make their calls for such killing right.
Democracy is not a synonym for justice or for freedom. Democracy is not a sacred right sanctifying mob rule. Democracy is a principle that is subordinate to the inalienable rights of the individual.
Many of the issues in the series deal with these subjects. Sometimes when people read the books again after they have satisfied their frantic, desperate desire to know what will happen next, they discover many of these issues in a new light.
Without talking about that unfortunate example, I tend to agree with him. Democracy isn't the truth. If you asked people if the earth was flat before Nicolaus Copernicus, they would answer that, yes, the earth is flat.
And people voted for Berlusconi and George Bush in the US. If that's not the proof that democracy is flawed then I don't know what it can be.
Democracy only works on a simple principle: mistake is reparable.
But in modern times not only we know that it's not always the case (people would say, about ecology), but that it's reparable only when there's conscience of it. And nowadays all communication studies are dealing with the power of persuasion and make believe. The way to bend the consciousness, drive the mass culture, create meaning for a purpose. The use of strong symbols to obtain persuasion.
Today information is important because without objective information you can't have consciousness. And without consciousness democracy just doesn't work.
There are also other interesting parts, for example where Goodkind explains his view on the magic:
One of the reasons people get so technically absorbed in the magic in my books is because (as I’ve said in the section on my philosophy — please go back and read it if you haven’t) I use magic very differently than most other authors. The magic in my books is treated as an existent — a thing that exists. Things that exist have their own identity and therefore behave according to the laws of that identity. That’s the way I make magic in my books behave — by the laws of its own identity. I treat it almost as a mathematical equation. People don’t close their eyes and grunt and wish to make it work, but rather they must discover the natural laws by which it functions, just as they must learn how to make a bow and arrow.
I think I'll give it a try as I'm the kind of reader who easily moulds the taste to the author's purpose. In the meantime my to-read list grows to scary levels. I should finish "The Blade Itself" before the end of the year, so I'll write about it next. I'm truly loving it. I'm not going to show much integrity if I keep praising just every book I read (but then I'm also picking carefully what is laregly recognized as best), we'll see if things change with Goodkind.
By the way, when on a forum everyone agrees something sucks, and yet dedicate to it no less than 32 threads, there must be something wrong.
Submitted by Abalieno on December 19, 2007 - 06:11.
This is the "new" topic of the blogosphere (and Shilling's minions), on which I can contribute. Ubiq actually fakes the lack of interest.
Instead of writing one of my long and pointless essays or converse with the close-minded and autoreferential game community, I'll offer the perspective of those who actually know better what fantasy is because they work with it at a deeper level.
First is R. Scott Bakker, author of one of the latest masterpiece of fantasy, the Prince of Nothing trilogy:
The typical answer is that people are searching for 'escape.' Fantasy represents, many would say, a retreat from the harsh world of competition and commerce. Another answer is that fantasy provides, like much fiction, a specific kind of wish-fulfillment. Fantasy allows us, for a time, to be the all-conquering warrior or the all-wise sorcerer. The problem is that neither of these answers in any way distinguishes fantasy from other genres of literature. Fantasy, I would like to suggest, offers a very specific kind of escape and wish-fulfillment, one connected, moreover, to its profound role in the great machine which we call contemporary culture.
Fantasy, I will argue, is the primary literary response to what is often called the 'contemporary crisis of meaning.' And as such, fantasy represents a privileged locus from which one might understand what is going in our culture in general.
--
Reading fantasy represents the attempt to give meaning to one's life by forgetting, for a time, the world that one lives in. In the escape offered by fantasy one glimpses the profound dimensions of our modern dilemma. Fantasy is the primary expression of a terrible socio-historical truth: the fundamental implication of our scientific culture is that life is meaningless.
It's not a case that also his books deal deeply with religion and philosophy.
From my own point of view there are truths in what he says, but it's not that truth that is at the basis of fantasy. Younger readers (and gamers) don't go that deep, and an explanation of the success of fantasy comes from there. Something that must be more visceral and accessible. Not something more delicate and complex like the reasons that Bakker explained.
So to complete those thoughts I'll quote another of these great modern writer, another I named on this site already a few times: Steven Erikson.
I have two answers, one intellectual, one visceral. I'll take 'em in order. Intellectually, the Fantasy genre is the only genre (and I include literary fiction as a genre) where a writer can take a metaphor and make it real, which for me is as creatively liberating as I can get.
And that's it. Nailed in the head (for the visceral one, follow the link).
This is not the first time I write down a similar concept (last time was a few months ago writing about Marvel's Civil War). Men are symbolic beings. So we eat and breath symbols. This links to what Bakker said because religion can offer the strongest symbols but the religion itself is not the key. Symbols in general are the key. The ease of communication.
At the end fantasy is a genre, but also a medium to communicate. As Erikson says, the main trait of this medium is that there no displacement between the message and the meaning. The metaphor is real. So it's one of the most direct way of communicating. It's effective, without frills, without superstructures. Usually you read or hear stories but you have to extract the meaning (symbol) yourself. Fantasy can deliver the symbol in the pure form. It's powerful, not ambiguous. And exactly for this reason it's transversal in the possible audience. Children will get it, adults will get it.
That's the foundation. Then there are other, smaller reasons. For example fantasy is somewhat part of out history. The medieval world, lack of technology. It's a step back to a kind of world we feel we actually relate better to, understand better. Direct relationship with the territory (and death, life, everything inbetween). So even in this case it's more straightforward and visceral, common and accessible to everyone.
And now there are subgenres spinning off in all directions, which is both a good and a bad thing to my mind: good in that the genre is robust enough to spawn new tropes; bad in that a kind of segregation forms, where writers of a particular subgenre virtually cease reading fantasy works in the other subgenres and in the genre as a whole. As in science, specialization breeds isolation and before you know it, we're all running blind and ignorant of everything else that's going on around us. Huh, maybe like me.
Submitted by Abalieno on December 15, 2007 - 07:34.
Pretty huh?
It's one of the two covers for that upcoming book in the Malazan series, not by Erikson but by Esslemont. As previously explained.
Problem is this is the limited edition that is just too expensive to be reasonable. I hope the one that will be released in August for a normal price won't have a much worse cover...
I also wonder where they are putting the text on that cover. The upper half just can't be covered.
Submitted by Abalieno on December 15, 2007 - 05:30.
    
Hooray! The monthly book shipment arrived at my door. Only the best!
Chronicles of The Black Company - Glen Cook (704 pag.)
This one is the omnibus of the first three books of the series that was released in November and that I've mentioned before. The edition is lovely and huge, with thick pages. The only complaint I have is that chapters continue in the same page where the previous ended. It's slightly annoying because of an original quality of the first book, it's divided into seven chapter and each one reads like a standalone novella. So I would have liked more if these chapters were better indented. The cover is also different from what appears in the image, it has a kind of "bleached" look so what you expect as black is instead a kind of dusty gray. No idea if it is bad print or wanted, but it looks cool.
Since I've read already the first book I already know what I bought and I love it so far. I haven't read all that many fantasy books compared with other book review bloggers, but The Black Company is competing as my very favorite. I was planning to write a comparison review, where I would take other reviews on the book and comment them, but then it never happened. This series is considered as the precursor of Erikson's work. I love the dark, gritty setting but I've read critics that the world isn't well defined. It's true, but as with other aspects, it's part of the effect. You know exactly what you would know on the "soldier" level. Interested in your mission, but then not looking too far. The writer gives the reader only what's indispensable. It's a small book (300 pages in the standalone edition) but feels extremely condensed. Lots of action and intrigues. It's absolutely original with characters that will remain in your memory for a long time. Despite the gritty setting and war realism it's still viscerally fantasy, with plenty of absurd magic and powerful beings (powerful beings would need a separate discussion because they are one of the best quality of the book, the way the walk among normal men and interact). In the end you also get one massive siege battle (if I remember correctly 20.000 vs 200.000) that closely reminds Minas Tirith.
For those who tried to read Erikson, liked the setting, but couldn't get into it, try read this series. It's far more accessible, less pretentious, and probably even more accomplished for what it wants to be. Far from the stereotypes of classic fantasy.
Assassin's Apprentice - Robin Hobb (432 pag.)
While Robin Hobb is one of the most popular writers in fantasy, this is the first book I'm going to read and without knowing much about it.
The elements I have are: it's written in first person, it's written well, it's part of a trilogy and the trilogy is part of another two set in the same world (so three trilogies with separate stories for a total of nine books). This last aspect the one who pushed me to the purchase as I'm looking exactly for that, as explained in detail. Something emergent and slowly building up through the books. Small book, but the following will be plumper. Funny font used (by the way, Bantam manufactures better books than Tor, imho).
The Dragon Reborn - The Shadow Rising - Robert Jordan (700 and 1000 pag.)
Goes without presentation. Book 3 and 4 in the series. Bought when I thought I wouldn't go further, but I so (unexpectedly) loved the second book that I was waiting for these two to arrive more than the rest.
Book 3 is the smallest yet. It has thicker pages and more spaced font. I like it less by holding it in my hands, feels like a different book. Book 4 weirdly has no prologue but it is huge and densely written. Considered that it's the peak of the series and that I like huge books that I can read for a long while, I have very high expectations about it.
Up here I wrote that The Black Company may be my favorite book. Oddly enough I like less Jordan, while I have more fun reading it. Jordan is just so much more readable, flowing and immersive. For something "cool" you read The Black Company, for something carrying you away mindlessly and easily you read Jordan.
THIS DAY ALL GODS DIE - Stephen R. Donaldson (688 pag.)
A so badass title can only be typed in CAPS. BADASS!
It's not fantasy but it's Epic! So gets my attention. Book 5 of 5, Gap series. Recommended on various forums. Weird edition as it's the smallest book (excluding the first), while being the most densely written and with the most pages. Bantam again. Note: Order and Chaos (book 4) is out of print, so you only find it used on e-bay or half.com (and you most likely can get an AWESOME hardcover edition for about $4, like I did).
I read the first book, that is supposed to be very different from the next, but I liked it so much that decided to buy all of them before continuing to read. I don't like much Donaldson writing fantasy and didn't like Covenant. Too whiny and stiff character. This series is far more brutal and unpleasant for many readers. For me it is far, far more enjoyable than Covenant. The main character of the first book is more disagreeable and perverse than Covenant, but he isn't whiny, and isn't stiff.
The whole thing starts very small (three characters playing a cat mouse game. Villain, Victim, Rescuer switching roles to Victim, Rescuer, Villain), then opens up with the second book to the "epic" level. The first book is almost like a prologue and the story takes up from the omissions in it. As if Donaldson started to build around the book instead of on top of it (in fact he explains clearly that the idea of the series was separate from the idea of the first book, then he joined the two to obtain the explosive recipe).
This series wasn't so successful and not well known, even if usually readers think it's the best thing Donaldson has ever written. Both in writing and plot.
Just watch out for the kinky mindcontrol in the first book, if you find the theme excessive.
|
Recent comments
1 day 6 hours ago<