The Tower of the Swallow by Andrzej Sapkowski

I wasn’t in love with the previous book in the Witcher series, Baptism of Fire, feeling that it felt too interstitial and didn’t do enough to further the plot. The Tower of the Swallow is not dissimilar, with the plot once again focusing on Geralt’s journey to find Ciri, but is improved for a number of reasons; an interesting playing around with time and narration and the increased role of the wonderful Ciri herself.

Geralt and company are continuing their journey to find Ciri, after their run in with the Lyrian forces at the end of Baptism by Fire. Along with Dandelion, Milva, Regis and Cahir, Geralt must head towards the Nilfgaardian Duchy of Toussaint. Yennefer has arrived in Skellige, as she seeks Ciri’s location, becoming drawn into the machinations of the sinister Vilgefortz. The heart of the story lies with Ciri, who we find terribly injured in the home of a hermit. Still being hunted by Nilfgaard, Ciri relates to him her time with The Rats, how they came to separate and her run in with the terrifying bounty hunter Leo Bonhart.

In terms of Geralt, The Tower of the Swallow does not move the plot forward much further than Baptism of Fire did. Ciri is absolutely the protagonist of this one though, with her story mostly related through flashback as we see the trials and tribulations she has been through. We regularly dip into several layers of narration, as present day Ciri in the hermit’s house flashes back to middle of the story Ciri who flashes back to earlier Ciri. This happens with other characters too, such as a mercenary who relates her role in events through court testimony. It can be confusing to put together the chronology of everything; this playing around with structure of the Ciri storyline feeling a bit clever for its own sake, but it is interesting and I’m always up for genre authors pushing out of their comfort zones and doing something a bit different with the form.

The Tower of the Swallow is very much ­Baptism of Fire Part 2, but it does leave things in a good place for an exciting finale. I’m going to be sad to finish this series, although hopefully it won’t be too long until The Witcher Netflix series manifests itself.

Time of Contempt by Andrzej Sapkowski

I’m thoroughly enjoying my time ploughing through The Witcher saga, with Time of Contempt building on the successes of Blood of Elves and addressing some of its faults.

Time of Contempt picks up not too long after Blood of Elves. Ciri is now under the tutelage of Yennefer of Vengerberg. Yennefer is taking Ciri to the Island of Thanedd, a safe haven for mages and sorceresses where she plans to enrol Ciri in a school to hone her magical training. It is not long before Geralt is reunited with his surrogate family of Yennefer and Ciri, and the three arrive at Thanedd, for a gathering of the magical users of the Northern Kingdoms, known as the Chapter of Sorcerers. The politics of the North have become more unstable, with the Northern rulers desperate for a pretext to go back to war with Nilfgaard and regain Cintra.

Where Blood of Elves was a bit more unfocused, feeling like a series of connected novellas more than anything else, Time of Contempt is a bit more self-contained, dealing primarily with the internal affairs of the Chapter of Sorcerers and the role of the magical community. The sharper focus benefits the book massively and it moves the story forward in a range of interesting ways. A lengthy epilogue shifts focus for a while, but it leaves a lot of important character sin very interesting places for the next book.

The action scenes are good, but Time of Contempt may be the funniest book in the series so far. A wonderful scene where a proud Yennefer parades Geralt in front of a series of lustful sorceresses, each more ridiculously provocative than the last, is a lot of fun. I had thought that the games had over sexualised characters like Keira Metz and Phillipa Eilhart but…nope, they’re like that in the book too. Geralt struggling to keep composure is a joy to behold. When things get a bit darker it all works well too, particularly during a harrowing scene in a desert which ratchets up tension to almost unbearable levels.

A lot of my favourite characters from the games play large roles here, such as the brilliant Redanian spymaster Sigismund Djikstra and a range of sorceresses. Sapkowski does a brilliant job of making these characters feel distinct; we’re introduced to about 8 new sorceresses all at once, but they all feel distinct and memorable. Ciri seems to be taking over from Geralt in main protagonist duties, but this isn’t a problem because I love Ciri.

I always struggle to write about middle books in a series. It doesn’t shake things up, but Time of Contempt keeps the story ticking on at a nice pace and leaves me excited to get into the next one. What more could you ask?

 

The Lies of Locke Lamora by Scott Lynch

People have been recommending this one to me for years, and I’m glad I finally took the plunge. The Lies of Locke Lamora is the first in the (planned) seven book Gentlemen Bastard Sequence, although it stands very well on its own, refreshingly free of ominous foreshadowing about a crisis which threatens the world. Instead we get a gritty, relatively low stakes tale of manipulation and violence, with a liberal splash of dark comedy thrown in for good measure.

Locke Lamora is the head of the Gentlemen Bastards, a small group of thieves operating in the ancient city of Camorr. The criminal underground of Camorr is ruled by Capa Barsavi, a crime leader who has managed to secure the ‘Secret Peace’; control of the lower areas of the city under the condition that no gangs under his command will rob the nobility. Whilst appearing to be an astute and cautious gang, the Gentlemen Bastards are in fact incredibly ambitious con-men, robbing the nobility and amassing a hidden mass of gold from both the legal authorities and Capa Barsavi. Barsavi’s lengthy reign is under challenge however; a mysterious figure calling himself the ‘Grey King’ has come to Camorra seeking to undermine Barsavi, and Locke, the fabled ‘Thorn of Camorr’ is caught up in the middle of a dangerous contest. At the same time, flashbacks tell the story of how Locke trained as a thief under the tutelage of Father Chains, a con artist who masquerades as a blind priest.

I’m a complete sucker for stories about clever people manipulating clever people, especially if the person being manipulated is also clever and then starts manipulating the person who thinks they are manipulating them but actually the original manipulator is in control all along. Or something. Any character pulling off a masterstroke, be it hero or villain, is guaranteed to give me a frisson and a big ‘ol grin, and The Lies of Locke Lamora probably contains a more of these moments per page total I’ve ever come across. I enjoyed it. It’s fantasy, and there is magic, but it’s completely remote from the protagonists, and not really too much of a factor in most people’s lives. I also really liked the lack of sequel baiting, of hints to a broader conflict, instead opting to tell a self-contained story, whilst still leaving seeds for follow ups. Perhaps a wider narrative will emerge later on, but Lynch ensures that we care about his characters and this world before he begins shaking it’s foundations, taking a similar approach to Patrick Rothfuss. The Lies of Locke Lamora is compelling stuff, and builds towards a really exciting climax. There’s a streak of humour through the whole thing, which is always welcome and Lynch’s writing feels organic and natural. This really is very impressive stuff for a first novel, with Lynch showing a real knack for action scenes and dialogue.

Camorr is where almost the entire book is set, and it’s quite an atmospheric and well developed locale. I mean, it’s basically Venice with weird non-human artefacts hanging around, but anything that differs from your standard Medieval England/Roman fantasy settings is fine with me. I’d probably have been more into it if I hadn’t recently also read Joe Abercrombie’s Best Served Cold, which is set in the similarly Italian inspired land of Styria. If I’d read Lynch first I’d probably have enjoyed the setting more. There are hints at some intriguing broader stuff in the setting, but it’s clear that sprawling world building isn’t Lynch’s priority, instead focusing to have one setting down perfectly. That’s fine, not everything needs to be The Malazan Book of the Fallen, and it’s clear that Lynch is an admirably focused writer.

Locke is a fairly inscrutable protagonist, with plenty of mystery still surrounding him even as the book ends. Similarly to Kvothe in the Kingkiller Chronicles, I suspect that Locke himself will be the central mystery of the series, something which sounds good to me! The supporting cast are good, particularly the surprisingly decent con artist Father Chains and Locke’s pugnacious yet oddly gentle best friend Jean Tannen. The best characters are the villains though, although I can’t really explain why without giving much away. As with the rest of the novel, the cast is tight, no larger than it needs to be, lacking the bloat that is so common in fantasy.

The Lies of Locke Lamora is a really fun book, and one which stands admirably on its own. It obviously is fantasy, but it didn’t read like fantasy, and whilst it’s very dark, it’s also not too…er, grimdark. This is a book not just for fantasy fans, but anyone who enjoys a story about con artists.

The Woman Who Died a Lot by Jasper Fforde

Jasper Fforde’s Thursday Next books may be somewhat formulaic and repetitive, but they’ve never been boring…until now. After the enjoyable reinvention of the series in the previous book, One of Our Thursdays is Missing, The Woman Who Died a Lot feels very much like same old, with the loosely chaotic plot structure which started out endearing just becoming genuinely annoying.

Continuing the pattern of alternating between ‘BookWorld’ set stories and Swindon set stories, we’re back with the regular, non-fictional Thursday in Swindon. Still recovering from her assassination attempt from the previous book, Thursday is a shadow of her former self. Goliath are still active though, and continuing their attempts to build Thursday simulacra and, eventually, take over the world. Meanwhile, the Almighty has announced his plans to smite Swindon, with the only potential saviour being Thursday’s genius teenage daughter Tuesday and her attempts to build an ‘anti-smite’ shield.

In typical Fforde fashion, The Woman Who Dies a Lot has a lot of different plot strands being juggled at once, but unlike his earlier books he’s dropping the balls a lot, or maybe I’m just sick of juggling. This metaphor is getting a little strained. Easily my favourite storyline was the resolution of the Aornis/Jenny mindworm stuff from First Among Sequels, which is refreshingly emotional and intense, but very much to the detriment of everything else, which was business as usual. It’s still funny, but it’s more chuckles that guffaws. Fforde does feel rather on auto-pilot by this point and I felt that he’s taken a slight step backwards from One of Our Thursday’s is Missing.

One of the things I actually really liked about this book was the focus on Thursday’s family. Landen is a sardonic rock to Thursday, with the almost-Chronoguard general Friday taking after his mother. The unfathomable genius Tuesday is my favourite, particularly her attempts to still act like a normal teenager. Although the Next family has featured in every book, this is the first where they feel properly at the centre, which was nice.

Overall, The Woman Who Died a Lot is pretty comfortably my least favourite Thursday Next book. I’m honestly not sure if this is because it’s gotten worse, or if I’m suffering a sort of Fforde fatigue. That said, the still unreleased next book Dark Reading Matter sounds quite promising, so I’m still going to be sticking with Thursday for the time being.

The Blade Itself by Joe Abercrombie

Oh God I love starting a new fantasy series so much; that sense of potential and possibility is thrilling to me, and Joe Abercrombie’s The Blade Itself, the first in his ‘The First Law’ trilogy, kept me entertained pretty much the entire way through. Abercrombie is definitely part of the Martin/Erikson breed of fantasy writers, rather than the slightly more mythical and optimistic Sanderson/Rothfuss crowd. For those who like their fantasy bloody and dark, The Blade Itself will be just for them.

The Blade Itself primarily concerns itself with the ‘Union’, an empire with its base in the centre of the world, which has spread it’s imperial limbs outwards. It is still recovering from a brutal war ten years before with the desert Empire of Gurkhul to the south, and now finds itself at risk from both sides, as the King of the North Bethod seeks to liberate the imperial province of Angland and the new Gurkhish Emperor musters his forces to retake the Union city of Dagoska. Similarly to Martin’s setting, magic has largely faded from the world of ‘The First Law’, although it certainly plays a larger role than it does in ‘A Song of Ice and Fire.’ Although there’s little obviously unique in Abercrombie’s setting, his world building is good, and I was certainly drawn into the setting. Lots is hinted at but not revealed yet, so I’m confident that there’s more interesting stuff to come in the following novels.

The Blade Itself primarily follows three characters; Jezal dan Luthar is an arrogant Union nobleman and military officer who is being trained for the annual fencing contest in the Union capitol of Adua. Sand dan Glokta was a decorated military officer, and former victor of the fencing contest himself, who had been captured and horrible tortured by the Gurkhish in the previous war. Crippled by his ordeal, Glokta finds his new calling as a torturer himself, a job for which he is uniquely qualified. Logen Ninefingers is a Northern ‘barbarian’ with a terrifying reputation, but as we find him he is much calmer and philosophical. Logen is summoned to meet Bayaz, an ancient wizard known as the ‘First of the Magi’, due to his unique ability to speak to spirits. As well as these three primary leads, we also have a handful of POVs from the Dogman, a former companion of Logen’s, Collem West, a rare Union commoner who gained high military rank, and Ferro Maljinn, a former Gurkhish slave out for vengeance upon her cruel masters.

The plot is pleasantly tightly structured, and we’re never really left wondering what the relevance of each story is. The Blade Itself is fundamentally concerned with introducing them to us separately and then bringing them together and watching the sparks fly. Some elements of the story are more interesting than others, with Logen’s story with Bayaz standing as probably the best. Although I really liked Inquisitor Glokta as  a character,  his storyline involving a potential conspiracy against the crown didn’t really hold much interest for me, but hopefully more will come of this in following books. Similarly, Jezal’s training for the Contest lacked any real narrative drive due to how damn unlikeable Jezal is as a character, sapping any investment in this storyline that we might otherwise have had. Still, The Blade Itself is largely compelling stuff, and certainly hooked me for the following books.

Abercrombie writes well for a debut novelist, with pleasantly naturalistic and un-portentous dialogue, with a good eye for comedy as well. He’s less strong on the fight scenes, of which there are many, and are at their best when reserved to a couple of pages, with one chapter long fight scene towards the end being particularly dull and repetitive. Action isn’t an easy thing to get right in print, and Abercrombie wouldn’t be the first to leave me confused and bored during a long action sequence, but I hope that he shows a little more restraint in the following books.

Probably the area in which Abercrombie shines best is in his characterisation, which is almost always on point and successful. Many of his characters are incredibly unlikeable, but still compelling to read, although at times Jezal did try my patience. Logen is a great character too, definitely within the ‘philosopher barbarian’ archetype, but likeable and compelling. I love characters who know they have done terrible things and have to live with their past actions, and Logen fills that role well. My favourite character had to be Glokta however, who does some really horrible things, but still remains sympathetic. His constant internal litany of self loathing and disgust makes him hard to condemn, and although he is constantly straddling that line into irredeemable, he never quite plunges into it, and that tension is at the heart of what I liked about this book.

The Blade Itself is a confident and strong debut which, whilst not without its flaws, manages to exceed them and stand as a compelling and dark read. I’m looking forward to continuing with ‘The First Law’ trilogy, and recommend this book to anyone who enjoys the darker side of epic fantasy. 

The Daylight War by Peter V. Brett

The third novel in Peter Brett’s ‘Demon Cycle’ has got some pretty damning reviews, so I was a bit nervous going into it. Although it’s far from a masterpiece, comparisons to the notoriously moribund  Crossroads of Twilight aren’t quite fair; Brett never manages to sink to middle period Wheel of Time levels of pacing. That said, the pacing is an issue, with all the best stuff crammed into 50 or so pages at the end to make way for reams of padding.

The Daylight War picks up immediately after The Desert Spear, just after Arlen and Renna took out their Mind Demon in the north and Jardir, Leesha and Inervera took out theirs in the south. The intelligences in the Core now know the threat the humans pose to them, and plan a terrible strike on Waning, the time when the moon is most dark and their power is most strong. Arlen and Jardir have a month to prepare their forces at Deliverer’s Hollow and Everam’s Bounty respectively , all whilst getting ready for the inevitable conflict between them. At the same time, just as we were with Jardir in The Desert Spear, we are given the story of Inervera, Jardir’s First Wife, a Machiavellian figure who seems to behind much of what goes on in the story.

The Daylight War doesn’t expand the world that much; in fact, we see almost nowhere new from the earlier books, but it does offer some wonderfully tantalising hints about the nature of the Core, and just how the magic of this world works. Brett is stingy with details about his world, preferring to tease them out, and although I’d like a little more clarity, it’s perhaps preferable to the info dumps we see in writers such as Steven Erikson or Brandon Sanderson.

The first two thirds of The Daylight War contain some of the worst excesses of the fantasy genre, with a staggering amount of lengthy travelling scenes whilst very little happens. The Inervera flashback stuff seems entirely unnecessary; it covers a lot of same ground as Jardir’s did in The Desert Spear, and even some stuff from back in The Painted Man. We’ve now seen Arlen’s betrayal by Jardir from three different perspectives. Thankfully, the last third is a grand improvement, with the actual battles at Waning being suitably epic, with a rare moment of joy in the latter third bringing a massive grin to my face. For all of its flaws, The Daylight War has one of the coolest endings that I’ve ever read in fantasy, and I can honestly say that the wait for the next book, The Skull Throne, is going to be quite unbearable. The ending is rushed, which is bizarre considering the padding out of dull bits at the beginning of the novel, but the brevity actually kind of worked for me.

Brett’s a capable writer, although with each book he finds another weird lapse. Where The Desert Spear had a gross overreliance on rape as a plot device, Brett instead makes a transition to ridiculously gratuitous, but consensual, sex scenes. The earlier books weren’t exactly chaste, but The Daylight War takes it to a whole, kind of gross, new level. I’m not opposed to a good sex scene, if done right they can actually be pretty beautiful (look at Jon and Ygritte’s cave scene in Martin’s A Storm of Swords to see a sex scene done right), but they just feel jarring and unnecessary here.

The characterisation was probably at its strongest here; Arlen is still a charmingly human and likeable lead, with his new love interest Renna Tanner standing as a much better character than the Mary Sue-ish Leesha Paper. Leesha’s characterisation is still all over the place, and I felt that Rojer took a bit of a step backwards in this novel. Maybe it was just because it was only here that I noticed just how similar Rojer is to Robert Jordan’s Mat Cauthon, but he just didn’t feel quite right to me. Jardir and Abban over on the Kraisian side are great characters, although Inervera’s flashback journey from timid young basket weaver to dangerous priestess sex goddess is very unconvincing.

The pacing for The Daylight War is bizarrely terrible, but I cannot deny that the closing pages had me utterly gripped. It’s ending leaves me very optimistic for the final couple of books, and hopefully The Daylight War simply stands as the mid series fatigue which hits almost every long running fantasy series. Brett still hasn’t quite refined his craft to Sanderson/Rothfuss/Martin levels, but he’s getting there, and I cannot wait for the next book in the series.  

The Ladies of Grace Adieu & Other Stories by Susanna Clarke

Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell was an odd book, and offered a fascinating and vivid alternate history which begged for re-exploration. Happily, Susanna Clarke does exactly that, with The Ladies of Grace Adieu and Other Stories, which contains a few stories most certainly set within the ‘Jonathan Strange’ universe, and a few which may not be. I’ll take a quick look at each individual story.

The Ladies of Grace Adieu

The title story of this collection is highly tied into Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell, featuring the titular characters themselves and actually embellishing upon an incident only obliquely referred to in the main novel. ‘The Ladies of Grace Adieu’ follows the friendship of three young women in Gloucestershire and their dabbling in magic, something considered to be only within the realm of men. Women didn’t really play much of a role in Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell, as Clarke herself stated that to preserve the authenticity of the work women had to be kept in the ‘domestic sphere.’ ‘The Ladies of Grace Adieu’ makes up for this though, with a gloriously feminist tale about women gaining a potent and natural power over men. I really enjoyed this one, and it’s certainly one of the highlights of the collection.

On Lickerish Hill

This is one of the more forgettable stories of the collection, a variation on the Rumpelstiltskin story, telling the story of a young woman in the 17th century, who is compelled by her husband to spin an impossible amount of flax. She makes a deal with a fairy, who weaves the flax but threatens to take her away if she cannot guess his name after a month. The antiquarian spelling of this work offers some interest, but otherwise there’s not really much else to this story to distinguish it from other fairy tales.

Mrs. Mabb

This was a great improvement over the last story, and follows Venetia Moore, a young women whose fiancé, the dashing Captain Fox, has left her for the mysterious Mrs. Mabb. Venetia investigates this new woman, trying to find the secrets which she conceals. I liked this story a lot; the feminist statements of this collection are usually fairly bold, but here it’s quite subtle. Venetia is frequently characterised by her peers as hysterical, but actually has a better grasp of the situation than those around her.

The Duke of Wellington Misplaces His Horse

It’s never nice when a story fails to live up to its own name, but that’s what we have here. This story borrows the setting of Wall from Neil Gaiman’s Stardust, but doesn’t use it in any particularly interesting way. The pompous and arrogant Duke of Wellington angers the proud folk of Wall during a visit and finds that they have let his horse free. The Duke goes forth to find his horse and finds a mysterious woman weaving the tapestry of his fate. I didn’t really understand what this story contributed to the collection; a lot of short story collections have a story like this, a lightweight one which falls in the middle between the more significant entries. It’s a shame, as I was looking forward to seeing a bit more of Wall, but the setting is completely underutilised.

Mr Simonelli, or the Fairy Widower

This was one of my favourite stories in the collection, told from the diaries of Alessandro Simonelli, a pompous and arrogant cad who’s sent from Cambridge to be the rector of a small village. There he encounters a strange house filled with even stranger inhabitants, and is involuntarily drawn into the mystery of this house, as well as his own lineage. Simonelli is a nasty piece of work, but a lot of fun to read about, with his conceited attitude providing a lot of laughs. There’s an interesting unreliable narrator element here too, and we have to wonder how much Simonelli is twisting events to present himself as a hero.

Tom Brightwind, or How the Fairy Bridge was Built at Thoresby

This was another story I thoroughly enjoyed; at its core it focuses upon the unlikely friendship between the fairy Tom Brightwind and the Jewish doctor David Montefiore. The relationship and banter between these two is delightful, and more than any other story in the collection I felt that there was a lot more I’d like to see from these characters. Tom and David are journeying to Lincoln, and along the way come to the village of Thoresby, which has fallen on hard times due to a series of misfortunes. Tom decides to intervene, in an unsurprisingly convoluted and bizarre fashion. This story was a lot of fun, and certainly stands as one of my favourites.

Antickes and Frets

Like the earlier story about the Duke of Wellington, the protagonist of this story is a real historical figure, in this case Mary, Queen of Scots. This story tells of her detention by the Earl of Shrewsbury, and her attempts to use dark magic to curse Queen Elizabeth and assist her political plotting. This is definitely a better story than ‘The Duke of Wellington Misplaces his Horse’, but it’s still not really a standout. Mary’s palpable vindictive fury is the highlight of this story, but there isn’t otherwise much else to recommend it.

John Uskglass and the Cumbrian Charcoal Burner

The final story of the collection concerns itself with a figure absolutely key to Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell, John Uskglass, the Raven King who ruled Northern England for centuries. This story is presented as a folk tale concerning a time where Uskglass was defeated by a lowly charcoal burner, and an entertaining story it is too. Although written in a much plainer style than the rest o the stories, it has a lot of depth to it, particularly in regard to religion and class. It doesn’t necessarily seem like much at first, but I ended up thinking of this story as one of the most interesting in the collection; more stories about the enigmatic Raven King would be fine with me!

Conclusion

It’s a rare short story collection which is all hits and no misses, and The Ladies of Grace Adieu & Other Stories has its fair share of misses. That said, those misses tend to the shorter stories, so this is definitely a collection worth giving a go, especially if you enjoyed Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell. There’s a lot of fantasy with women in it, but not much about women, so The Ladies of Grace Adieu at least offers something which feels fresh. I’m very much looking forward to seeing where Susanna Clarke goes next!

The Desert Spear by Peter V. Brett

The Desert Spear is the second in Peter Brett’s ‘Demon Cycle’, and the sequel to the enjoyable The Painted Man. I enjoyed the first novel, but it didn’t blow me away, and although The Desert Spear has built my interest in this series, I’m still not quite convinced. It’s certainly a more assured release than the original, and I enjoyed it more, but there are many elements which hold it back from greatness.

The Desert Spear continues the stories of The Painted Man’s main POV characters, Arlen, Leesha and Rojer following the battle of Cutter’s Hollow, now renamed Deliverer’s Hollow with many believing Arlen, the Painted Man, to be the Deliverer of legend. However, Arlen and co. don’t show up until about 250 pages of the novel, with the opening telling the story of Jardir, the Krasian Shar’Dama’Ka who betrayed Arlen in The Painted Man, stealing the Spear of Kaji and naming himself the Deliverer. Jardir has led a Krasian army to the north, seeking to subjugate the northern kingdoms of Thesa to prepare for the final conflict with the Demons. Another minor character from The Painted Man plays an increased role in The Desert Spear; Renna of Tibbett’s Brook, Arlen’s betrothed before he fled his hometown to become a Messanger, finds herself left alone with her bestial rapist father Harl.

Brett doesn’t expand his setting at all in The Desert Spear, instead giving us more detailed depictions of places already seen. This is actually very well handled as interesting, but poorly developed, locations from the first novel become much better fleshed out in this book. The martial cruelty of Fort Krasia and the parochial small-mindedness of Tibbett’s Brook stand out in particular. I had been concerned as to how much Brett could really achieve in the world building in this series, with the world failing to quite come alive for me in The Painted Man, but this depth rather than breadth approach serves the series well. Still, the world of the ‘Demon Cycle’ is really all about atmosphere, the atmosphere of fear created by the nightly rise of the corelings. We gain a few new hints about the very interesting sounding ancient past of this setting, not much, but tantalising nonetheless, and I certainly hope to learn more in future novels.

The Desert Spear doesn’t really forward the plot a huge amount from the much faster paced The Painted Man, although I don’t know if this is nearly as much a problem as some critics have suggested. It’s true that the focus upon flashbacks might alienate some, but I personally loved learning Jardir’s past, with these sequences standing as some of my favourite in the book. Again, many didn’t like the sudden switch to Renna’s storyline, and at first I could see their point, but as the novel went on and I could begin to see where Brett was going with this it all made sense. Renna’s character arc is probably the best of the series so far, and the one which I’m most looking forward to following up in The Daylight War. Brett’s writings are still somewhat problematic though, with the clumsy parallels to Islam in the Krasians in the original only getting worse in this novel. However, the worst crime of this novel has to lie in its depiction of rape; the rape of Leesha in The Painted Man was a shocking moment, largely because rape is something of a ‘no go area’ for writers of genre fiction. We can handle murder, but rape is just too dark to write about unless you’re going to do so with remarkable sensitivity. Peter V. Brett lacks this sensitivity. There’s nothing wrong with presenting a woman who manages to put her life back together after rape rather than falling apart, but just how easily Leesha recovers is somewhat nauseous.

Still, in terms of basic prose Brett improves from The Painted Man, with The Desert Spear possessing that easy readability which makes writers such as Rothfuss and Sanderson such a pleasure. Brett is seriously good at writing action sequences, but he has a decent skill with dialogue too. Brett may not have any particular literary style which sets him apart from others, such as Martin or Rothfuss have, but then again neither does Brandon Sanderson and he’s one of the best writers in the genre.

The characterisation isn’t perfect, but where it’s good it’s very good. I already mentioned how impressed I was by Renna’s story arc, and this character came alive for me in a way which the other main female character, Leesha, never quite did. Leesha is that most common type of female lead in fantasy, perfect in almost every way yet through this lack of flaws seeming utterly empty next to the better developed male characters. Leesha’s wit is a redeeming aspect of the character, but her bland perfection turns me of her; the selfish, volatile and not too bright Renna Tanner impresses me much more. Jardir goes from the intriguing enigma of The Painted Man to a well developed and complexly motivated anti-hero, with an interesting contrast between his genuine belief in his status as the Deliverer and his guilt over his betrayal of Arlen, the Par’Chin. I liked the character of Abban too, a ‘khaffit’ second class citizen who nonetheless rises to a position of power, and Rojer is every bit as likeable in The Desert Spear as he was in The Painted Man, although he doesn’t end up with a huge amount to do. The central figure of Arlen is very well handled; often, when the naive farmboy becomes a hero of legend, they lose their humanity and charm (just look at Rand al’Thor in the middle Wheel of Time books), but Brett does a great job of making Arlen incredibly badass yet still firmly human. Leesha aside, these are some very well drawn characters, and even Leesha isn’t beyond redemption.

The Desert Spear is another good book from Peter V. Brett, but it’s not good enough to call the ‘Demon Cycle’ great. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed it a lot, and I’m definitely going to persevere with this series, but for every moment of brilliance, and there are plenty, there are clumsy elements which drew me out of the story, be it the depiction of rape or Leesha’s poor characterisation. The Desert Spear is a good read, but there’s better fantasy out there. All in all, if you liked The Painted Man, The Desert Spear is a worthy successor.

Stardust by Neil Gaiman

I love Neil Gaiman, but I’d somehow managed to not read Stardust until now. Whilst not my favourite novel of his, Stardust is an excellent little read, very clever but entirely unpretentious and earnest. More so than any other Gaiman novel which I’ve read, this one reads like a labour of love, the kind of novel that could only be written by someone who loves a good story more than anything.

Stardust is a modern fairy tale set in the early 19th century and tells the story of Tristran Thorn, a young man in love with the beautiful Victoria Forester. Tristran and Victoria live in ‘Wall’, a town which stands on the border of our mundane world and ‘Faerie’, the land of magic. Tristran is half fairy himself, but he doesn’t know it. When they witness a shooting star fall into Faerie, Victoria promises her hand if Tristran brings the star back to her. Against expectations, Tristran embarks into Faerie to find the star. He isn’t the only one however, having to compete with witches and sinister Princes to reach his star.

The ‘Fearie’ world which Gaiman conjures is an unabashedly fantastical one. Every whimsical imagining is fair game in this world, and it’s actually a joy to see a writer be so unconstrained. When creating a fantasy world it’s always vital to have a sense of internal logic and coherency. This is where George R. R. Martin and Brandon Sanderson excel, creating worlds which feel real and consistent, understanding that limits are as important as ideas. This is almost always the case. Stardust is a rare exception. The world of Stardust is a work of constant imagination, built upon myths and legend, yet putting a fresh spin on these ideas. Gaiman’s inventiveness doesn’t come from the dragging oddities from nowhere, but from taking elements of our own mythology and our own world and finding the strange within them.

The sheer inventiveness and sense of fun in the creation of this world uplifts everything. It isn’t all fun though, and Gaiman isn’t afraid to shy away from the darker scenes from fairytales, with some downright disturbing and scary scenes mixing well with the sense of wondrous joy. However, the plot isn’t particularly tightly structured, and the conclusion isn’t nearly as explosive as it should have been. The story ends rather neatly, with the most promising major confrontations coming to nothing. I suppose I had no right to expect anything else; this is a fairy tale, so  a fairy tale ending is to be expected. There are plenty of reasons to read, but the most important to me will always be to be told a story. Stardust tells a wonderful, exciting and interesting story.

Gaiman’s style has always been a wonderful mixture of the arch mythological fantasy style with the mundane, with the juxtaposition of these two opposing concepts often being the root of a lot of his comedy. There are some wonderfully plain spoken, blithe moments slotted among the fairy tale style of the rest of the novel. Gaiman is a clever, but unpretentious, writer, with no showoffiness, letting the quality of his writing speak for itself.

Gaiman’s protagonists are often straight men, reacting to the madness around them without  having particularly distinguishing characteristics in themselves, such as Shadow from American God, Richard from Neverwhere and Fat Charlie from Anansi Boys. Tristran is another of these; I’m not criticising, this is an archetype that works for Gaiman. The characters which intrigued me most were the competitive and sinister princes of Stormhold, named Primus through to Septimus. This element of the story was probably my favourite part, and I would have loved to have seen more from these seven. A spin off prequel telling of the exploits of these seven brothers would be very welcome in my mind.

Stardust is a lovely little novel. It’s not a long book, so it’s not difficult to fit into your reading schedule. It may not be my favourite Neil Gaiman novel, but it’s a lot of fun and well worth a look.

The Painted Man by Peter V. Brett

The Painted Man is the debut novel of Peter V. Brett, the first in the ‘Demon Cycle.’ It’s always fun starting a new series, and structurally this novel reminds me a lot of The Eye of the World, the debut novel in the ‘Wheel of Time’ series. It’s a lot darker though, going places that many other authors are fearful to tread. Sometimes Brett handles this well, but sometimes it’s rather clumsily handled. This is a debut novel however, and is still enjoyable despite being fairly rough around the edges.

The Painted Man takes place in world on the decline, known as Thesa. Once a place of great magic and science, for the past three hundred years almost all of this creation has been undone by the ‘Core.’ Every night, elemental demons known as ‘Corelings’ rise from the ground to wreak havoc on the surface. The only thing that can hold them back are magical ‘wards’, which can be etched into any surface. This isn’t a perfect art however, and sometimes these fail. This novel follows three protagonists, Arlen, Leesha and Rojer from childhood through to adulthood. Arlen flees his village following a coreling attack to become a ‘Messenger’, those intrepid souls who roam between towns and villages. Leesha is a young woman who becomes a ‘Herb Gatherer’, a healer, as well as getting caught up in the small town politics of her home village. Rojer is a young man who, after his parents are killed by demons, is trained as a ‘Jongleur’, essentially a jester. Although initially separate, these three characters are drawn together towards a common destiny.

The world of The Painted Man has some truly tantalising elements to it, particularly regarding their scientifically advanced ancient past. A society which faces nightly demon attacks will naturally develop some idiosyncrasies, and Brett does a good job of presenting varied and interesting responses to their nightly war. The ‘Krasian’ people of the south, who fight the demons rather than hide from them, are interesting, but let down by an all too obvious comparison to Islam in their custom. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with basing fantasy people of real peoples, if anything it’s sometimes the only way to create a compelling fictional society, but there must be a clear distinction, and these patriarchal warrior priests who force their women to cover themselves in veils and robes seems uncomfortably close to a Fox News vision of Islam. Although there is obviously a kernel of truth to this depiction, there is always more nuance in reality than the media necessarily depict, and The Painted Man fails to convey this nuance. It’s perfectly possible that future novels will improve this; Brett’s worldbuilding shows promise, but it’s rough.

The three part plot structure works well, with all three characters feeling distinct and interesting. I never felt annoyed to be dragged away from Arlen, the main lead, probably because the plot was still balanced mostly towards him. I disliked the way that the ‘Wheel of Time’ novels abandoned its main character Rand al’Thor, and I really hope that it doesn’t go this way with Arlen in future novels in the series. The novel keeps up a good pace, with nothing that felt like padding.

Brett is an extremely competent writer, with the odd irritation likely coming down to poor editing. He writes in a plain style familiar to fans of fantasy, fairly characterless but he has plenty of time to develop a signature narrative voice. Like Brandon Sanderson, he particularly sparkles in dialogue, as well as having a clear knack for fight scenes. In a series about fighting demons, an ability to create good fight scenes is a must, and Brett manages admirably.

The characterisation is generally good, although a few of the characters fall too easily into fantasy archetypes. I enjoyed the character of Leesha, particularly her wry wit, but her penchant for bursting into tears at every moment of difficulty made me somewhat weary. The supporting cast are interesting, some undermining the clichés that we’ve gotten used to and others reinforcing them. One of the most interesting characters is Jardir, a Krasian warrior, who only appears briefly but apparently plays a bigger role in the sequel.

All in all, The Painted Man is an enjoyable read, if not a particularly revolutionary one. Some authors immediately hooked me, such as Patrick Rothfuss and Stephen Erikson, but it’s not uncommon for the debut release to have little effect on me to then become hooked on later novels. Elantris didn’t do much for me, but Brandon Sanderson ended up being one of my favourite authors. There’s much better fantasy out there, but if you just fancy a light, fun action packed read, you could do a lot worse than The Painted Man.