Review: The Troupe, Robert Jackson Bennett

I haven’t had much time recently for reviewing at length, but as I wrote a very short review of this book for Goodreads, I thought I should also pop it up here, for anyone interested.

The Troupe

Robert Jackson Bennett

Orbit, 2012

ISBN 978-035650-040-9

The Troupe is a fun, vibrant novel with a few flaws. The characters are fabulous and well drawn, and their interactions and relationships are what primarily had me turning the pages. The plot is good, if a bit meandering around the middle, but the aforesaid character interactions make up for that. The concept is fine – it’s nothing tremendously new, but it works for this standalone book and is refreshingly simple compared to lots of fantastical set-ups in the genre. I had a few quibbles with the internal consistency of the worldbuilding, however. The author gave himself scope to use whatever magical beings he liked (the four Shepherds, fairies, ghosts, his own invented ‘wolves’) which was fine – he did use them all with flair – but felt slightly slack as I wasn’t certain of the limitations of the fantastical occurrences. The novel also seemed to be terribly US-centric, seeing as what the characters were up to was supposed to effect the entirety of existence… Perhaps I didn’t understand correctly, but that’s how it came across.

But all in all, The Troupe was a highly enjoyable read with some fabulously magical moments. I’d recommend it to fans of Neil Gaiman’s American Gods – the novels aren’t *that* similar, but if you enjoyed Shadow’s road trip across the US in company with deities, you’ll probably find something to like in George Carole’s adventures in The Troupe too.

Review: Cold Magic by Kate Elliott

Cold Magic(Book 1 of the Spiritwalker trilogy)

Kate Elliott

Orbit, 2011 (first pub. 2010)

ISBN 978-1-84146-882-9

Cold Magic is the first book in Kate Elliott’s latest fantasy series, the Spiritwalker trilogy. In a tale of intrigue, magic, and personal revelation, Cold Magic introduces readers to an alternate version of Europe (or Europa, as the novel has it [NB. map linked from Kate Elliott's website]). The year is 1837. Ice caps creep across the land, the remnants of the Roman empire still persist in Italy. The rest of Europa is governed by feuding princes, and powerful but hated mage Houses also keep watch over the populace, using their feared cold magic to keep their dependents in check. Caught between the princes and the cold mages, the people are restless. Amongst all this, protagonist Catherine Hassi Barahal is an orphan, living with her relatives in Adurnam, a city in the south of Brigantia (Britain). There, she spends her time reading her dead father’s journals, taking lessons at the city academy, and giggling with her beloved cousin Bee. All is peaceful… That is, until a cold mage turns up at the Barahals’ door and demands Cat’s hand in marriage. Suddenly, Cat is caught up in a whirlwind of events: given up by her family, whisked away from her home, and forced to endure the company of the arrogant and icy cold mage, Andevai. But it is only then that she begins to learn the truth about her family, to uncover the histories that will affect her future, and to discover the extent of her own strange powers.

My reaction to this novel was mixed. For a start, I found the beginning quite slow, as it takes a good few chapters for the main narrative to really kick in. Once the action had really begun, however, I warmed to it (haha), enjoying the squabbling and tension between Cat and Andevai, and finding myself genuinely caught by surprise at the twists and disclosures that Elliott weaves into the tale. And yet, I found that I was never fully swept away by the story. This is, I think, because I found the prose style rather distracting. Elliott deliberately opts for a relatively florid style, tailoring her writing to match the novel’s pseudo-Victorian setting. Whilst I respect this decision, I personally found Elliott’s writing a little chaotic. There was – to my mind – some decidedly awkward syntax and more than a few unnecessary adverbs (‘I fumblingly laced on two petticoats’, for example), which made some of the scenes stilted and more confusing than they needed to be. The dialogue, too, was correspondingly more formal and verbose. Sometimes this worked extremely well, but at others it came across a bit clunky and unrealistic. And I don’t think this is merely a question of it being a departure from the ‘transparent’ prose style that is today’s norm – I’ve read a lot of Victorian (and older) fiction, after all. Nevertheless, although I found Elliott’s prose overwrought at times, it certainly wasn’t enough of a distraction to make me stop reading.

The plot of Cold Magic is satisfying, if not overly complex; for me, the real tension was generated more by the unravelling of past secrets than the actual thrust of the main narrative. This isn’t to say that the narrative itself is dull (though I did feel that it was a bit long-winded, and could have been shorter and sharper): Elliot delivers some great moments and surprises, and I particularly enjoyed Cat’s forays into the spirit world. Andevai was also interesting, with his uptight, aloof manner, and I liked the theatrical and impulsive Bee. I can’t say I was overly fond of Cat, but I think this comes down to personal preference, for her feistiness, determination, and loyalty all serve to make her a fine, sympathetic protagonist. What’s more, the novel certainly ends on a dramatic note, and I’m sure that Elliott has a good many more surprises in store in Cold Fire, the trilogy’s second instalment.

The great strength of Elliott’s novel is, in my opinion, its setting. Populated by haughty mages, curious trolls, distant princes, Roman soldiers, unpredictable radicals, Celtic and Afric peoples, spirit creatures, goblins, and more besides, Elliott’s world is crammed full of wonders, variety, and detail. Built upon a wealth of historical and cultural background, the Europa of Elliott’s imagination gains an impressive depth and richness rare even for fantasy such as this – even if sometimes the information is delivered in a rather clumsy fashion. That is to say, Elliott often has the characters explain things to each other in slightly *too much* depth, and, informative as these sections are for the reader, they’re unconvincing in terms of dialogue and character. I sympathise with Elliott about this, though: to communicate such a detailed world through a first-person narrative is a tricky task, and the pitfalls of over-explanation are difficult to avoid.

Stylistic reservations aside, I found Cold Magic very inventive, with a fantastic setting and a very distinct atmosphere. In fact, I’m having difficulty thinking of anything to compare it to. It has airships – but it’s not what I’d call steampunk. It has characters with important magical powers and a background of war and conflict – but, with its first-person viewpoint and character-orientated narrative, it’s not what I’d call epic fantasy. So if you want to try something a little different, something vivid and well-imagined, something with plenty of magic and splashings of romance, something emotional and character-driven, and, what’s more, something with a great variety of female and PoC characters, then take a chance on Cold Magic. I’d be interested to hear what you think.

Review: Equations of Life, Simon Morden

Equations of Life (Book 1 of the Metrozone series)

Simon Morden

Orbit, 2011

ISBN 978-1-84149-948-2

You are now entering the London Metrozone. The time is 7:35, two decades after Armageddon. MIND THE GAP.

Protagonist Samuil Petrovitch is a young, brilliant, wise-cracking physics student living in the chaos and squalor of the Metrozone – the last city left in England after a nuclear war decimated the planet two decades previously. Refugees have flooded in from all over the world; makeshift flats are built from shipping containers; Hyde Park is filled with the dead and the dying. But among these terrible scenes move a cast of colourful and eccentric characters: laconic policemen, gun-toting nuns, crazed doomsayers, and huge immigrant criminal organisations, chief among them Marchenkho’s Ukranians and the Japanese Oshicoras. Petrovitch himself is a refugee from Russia, having fled the fallout to take up a place at Imperial College. There, he and his colleague Pif work away at the equations that will unlock ‘the theory of everything’, opening up the mysteries of the universe to humankind. That, and Petrovitch tries to keep his head down, stay unnoticed and, most importantly, not die. But the Metrozone won’t let him off that easily, and when Petrovitch accidentally saves the daughter of Hamano Oshicora, he is sucked into its dirty, double-crossing, and downright dangerous underworld. And there are more surprises waiting there than he’d bargained for…

Welcome to Simon Morden’s Metrozone series. If you’re on the lookout for a dystopian thriller with plentiful lashings of humour, Equations of Life could be your thing. It’s fun, fast-paced, and mischievous, crammed with gun battles, car chases, and general chaos. Fans of Neal Stephenson’s Snow Crash will recognise its exuberant OTT-ness – and although Equations of Life does not reach the same level as this eminent forebear, it’s definitely an enjoyable romp.

Unfortunately, whilst I enjoy the occasional romp, my tastes veer more towards the character-driven side of the tracks. And I’m inclined to say that if you, like me, prefer stories that pack emotional punches rather than physical ones, you might want to look elsewhere. Morden’s characters are vivid and fun, but they weren’t fleshed-out enough for my liking. The emotional moments seemed to me stilted and rushed, as though Morden was eager to get them over with and launch us back into another gunfight. Whilst I realise that this maintained the book’s pace, and kept the adrenaline pumping throughout, it left me dissatisfied and unconvinced by the characters’ interactions. This was especially true of Sister Madeleine and Petrovitch; although I did warm to their friendship as the book continued, it was more a case of suspending disbelief rather than accepting their emotional arc.

Petrovitch himself was quite difficult to get a handle on. I definitely liked him and rooted for him, and especially admired the way Morden created him as physically frail, with a failing heart and bad eyesight – certainly not your standard action-hero, no sirree. Still, I wanted a bit more from him emotionally. The setup is promising: Morden hints that Petrovitch has a mysterious past, which is then slowly revealed as the book goes on. This is all well and good – except that I never really got a sense of how this past really affected Petrovitch, apart from in fairly superficial ways. What I found most grating, I think, was his continuous smart-ass manner. In places, Petrovitch’s one-liners were well placed, and very funny, but elsewhere I found myself wishing that he would stop being so goddamned precocious and express more doubt, more fear (especially considering that he’s supposed to be quite young). I would have loved, for example, for Petrovitch’s sarcastic nature to be revealed – at least partly – as a defensive front, a coping mechanism through which he deals with his and the world’s horrific circumstances. That would have been ace. But sadly, even when Petrovitch does open up to the other characters about his past, this doesn’t seem to be the case: he’s as witty as ever.

Perhaps I am being unfair. This is, after all, only the first book in Morden’s series, and it could be that I’m pre-empting him. But if so, I fear that the deeper character insights will come too late for readers such as myself.

Unfortunately, I had similar misgivings about the setting. The Metrozone is certainly a ‘cool’ idea in a morbid sort of way, and I do have a soft spot for the grungy post-apocalyptic aesthetic – but again I’d like for the book to have dug deeper under its surface. I mean, this place is awful, right? People have flocked there to avoid radiation poisoning, or because their home countries have been wiped off the map. People go to Hyde Park to die in hordes. And yet the horrors of the situation don’t really seem to impact on the characters or the storyline very much. OK, so they’ve lived there for a long time and they would be hardened to it to some extent, and sure, sister Madelaine cries when she and Petrovitch have to go through the park, but the feeling I came away with was that the post-Armageddon scenario was convenient. That is to say, it provided a nifty setting in which the characters could run free and bash/shoot/blow things up without real fear of imprisonment or consequences.

Also, there were many things about the setting that didn’t work for me, at least not unless I was given more explanation… For example: there are still cars and computers and all kinds of things being produced in, or shipped into, the Metrozone. Is this feasible? I mean, who’s making them? Where? How are they getting their resources when the world’s gone to sh*t? How do people still have money to buy them? Haven’t the banks collapsed? And how come Petrovitch and Pif are still using paper with apparent abandon – has the environment not been affected by this world-changing nuclear war (which didn’t happen all that long ago, remember)? Or was it, despite being called ‘Armageddon’, not actually ‘that bad’? Is the world already well on the way to recovery? TELL ME MORE I DON’T UNDERSTAND HOW THIS IS ALL WORKING.

Again, I may be pre-empting Morden here; later books will hopefully weave in more detail. But as a fan (and student) of apocalyptic literature, I didn’t get a sense of why it mattered that Equations of Life was set in a post-fallout scenario.

But perhaps I’m taking this all too seriously. Equations of Life isn’t The Road, after all – and it’s not meant to be. It’s energetic, it’s amusing, and it will keep you reading. (It’s also got a really funky cover. I mean, look at that! So awesome.) If those qualities tick your boxes, then hop on for the ride – just ignore the gaps.

Review: A Betrayal in Winter, Daniel Abraham

A Betrayal in Winter  (incl. in Shadow and Betrayal: Book 1 of The Long Price)

Daniel Abraham

Orbit, 2009

ISBN 978-1-84149-612-2

The second book of Daniel Abraham’s The Long Price quartet – A Betrayal in Winter – continues the high quality of the first (A Shadow in Summer – my review here). Set fourteen years after the first novel, the quartet’s second instalment not only offers readers a new tale of court intrigue, romance, and treachery, but also shows how the consequences of the first novel’s events continue to reverberate through the lives of the two main protagonists – Maati and Otah – and to change the fates of those whose paths intersect with theirs. In contrast to the steamy setting of Sarakeyht, the summer city of the first novel, A Betrayal in Winter whisks readers to the winter city of Machi, Otah’s original home. There, tradition dictates that the sons of the Khaiem should kill one another in order to secure succession to their father’s throne. Otah wants to stay out of it… but events conspire to draw him into the struggle. It is left to Maati, his old friend and rival, to ferret out the truth.

It is safe to say that I enjoyed this book as much as I did the last episode of The Long Price. Abraham crafts his plots with a delicacy and intelligence which, whilst making them slow-burners, means that they are emotionally rich and satisfying, gathering tension and effect as they build to their climax. I actually thought A Betrayal in Winter was even more successful than A Shadow in Summer in this regard, the anticipation mounting more palpably than in the previous book.

A Betrayal in Winter introduces us to some great new characters too. The new poet-andat duo, Cehmai and Stone-made-Soft, form a nice contrast to Heshai and Seedless of A Shadow in Summer. In my review of book 1, I said that I’d liked to learn more about the poet-andat bindings, and in A Betrayal in Winter Abraham granted my wish. The binding of Stone-made-Soft, centring around a chess game that Cehmai plays with the andat each morning, sheds more light on how their magical relationship operates, and makes for a truly fantastic scene near the end of the book, where the tension really screams at you from the page.

Abraham also has a knack for creating strong and intriguing female characters. Idaan in A Betrayal in Winter is as different from Amat in A Shadow in Summer as it is possible to be, and yet she is another example of Abraham’s ability to produce complex women with ambitious and uncompromising goals. Like a certain character in A Betrayal in Winter, it is hard to know where you stand with the elusive Idaan. Does she incite hatred or compassion – or perhaps a bit of both? Abraham does a stunning job revealing the conflicting drives within this character, whilst keeping the reader wondering as to what, at heart, her true affiliations are.

What’s more, my affection for Maati as a character really blossomed during the course of this second novel. Abraham takes a risk by making his protagonist a quiet, un-athletic, scholarly figure, unsuccessful in life and in love – but he pulls it off with panache. Maati’s unassuming competence and his helpless quest for approval and forgiveness from Otah make him a truly sympathetic character. I look forward to discovering what he and Otah’s lives will bring them next…

To summarise: like the first book of The Long Price, A Betrayal in Winter is not one for those who require fast-paced storylines with sword-wielding heroes, but if you are searching for a well-written, thoughtful narrative that packs plenty of emotional punch, then you can’t go far wrong with the bittersweet novels Abraham has crafted here.

Review: A Shadow in Summer, Daniel Abraham

A Shadow in Summer (incl. in Shadow and Betrayal: Book 1 of The Long Price)

Daniel Abraham

Orbit, 2009

ISBN 978-1-84149-612-2

I’m more a fan of intricate, character-driven fantasy than sensational sword-and-sorcery quests; I’d choose Robin Hobb over David Gemmell in a trice. So when I was told that – despite the moody warrior on the front cover – Daniel Abraham’s The Long Price belonged more to the former camp than the latter, I was intrigued.

I was right to be. Having just finished A Shadow in Summer (book 1 of The Long Price quartet, and the first of the two novels included in Orbit’s Shadow and Betrayal edition), I can say that Daniel Abraham’s series gets off to a promising start. As I had been told, it was more of a slow-burner than many modern fantasies; you won’t find epic action sequences here, but instead you’ll be rewarded with a carefully crafted tale that focuses closely on a handful of characters, and in which the tensions shimmer beneath the surface rather than charging into the open. The bull has not yet entered the china shop.

A Shadow in Summer introduces us to Maati, a young ‘poet’ newly placed under tutelage of his master, Heshai. In Abraham’s pseudo-Nipponese setting, ‘poets’ are men trained to capture and control the powers of spirits called andat – abstract ideas given material form. Heshai and his andat Seedless (slave, companion, ghost…) are posted in the city of Saraykeht, where Heshai wields Seedless’s magic to aid the cotton trade. But trouble creeps into the city when a plot starts brewing, and Maati’s is only one of the many lives affected by the consequences. Overseer Amat, her apprentice Liat, and Liat’s lover Itani all become embroiled, and as their stories intertwine with Maati’s and Heshai’s their choices only become harder.

Abraham tells his tale with a refreshing delicacy, his prose detailed and evocative without lapsing into heavy descriptive passages; he conjures up the atmosphere of the ‘summer cities’ without choking the reader with it. A very nice touch is the way his characters communicate using formal poses as well a speech – a seemingly simple addition, but which gives us a much better insight into the culture, its adherence to tradition and etiquette etc. Although it would have been good to get more insight into the practical workings of the poet-andat binding, which was left perhaps a little too vague. I’m all for leaving magic systems mysterious and loosely defined, but I felt that A Shadow in Summer would have benefitted from revealing a bit more on this score, seeing as it was such a central concern, and that the particular relationship between Heshai and Seedless played a crucial role in the plot.

The characters in A Shadow in Summer are skilfully drawn, each sympathetic in his or her own way, and with distinct desires, passions, and flaws. Seedless’s scathing wit made me chuckle, Maati’s youthful sincerity tugged my heart-strings, determined Itani roused my admiration, and jaded Heshai my pity. My favourite character, though, was definitely Amat. With her, Abraham succeeds in creating an unusual fantasy protagonist – a canny elderly woman with a bad hip – who nonetheless drives an exciting plotline – the most exciting in the novel, in my opinion. I didn’t get on so well with Liat, unfortunately. Compared to the other characters, I didn’t feel very in touch with her. I felt as though the author’s hand was more evident in her storyline, and at times it seemed as though she was merely playing a convenient part in other characters’ arcs. However, this sort of thing is very difficult to avoid entirely, and this was only a very slight lapse.

There are no true ‘villains’ in the book, only characters with conflicting motivations who make mistakes – some larger than others. While Abraham should be praised for his mature characterisation, this does mean that the sense of threat throughout the novel is rather lighter than it would otherwise be with a palpable, menacing bad-guy in the mix. Even though we are told the enormity and horrific nature of the consequences should certain events come to pass, I didn’t feel any deep dread for the protagonists. Because of this, some of the characters’ reactions were not entirely convincing; the novel didn’t quite muster the level of peril needed to justify their distress. This is, though, an ‘occupational hazard’ that accompanies the type of plot Abraham chose to narrate, and I do not mean to imply that Abraham’s characterisation is weak – indeed, as I have said, I thought it was extremely good. Besides, it is early days in The Long Price; I expect that the danger will truly being to mount over the course of the next book.

A Shadow in Summer was certainly a good read, though not one for those who require a thrill a minute in their fiction. It could have been more exciting, but it was definitely enticing and I will be continuing on to find out what happens next. What’s more, Abraham’s writing is a cut above the average – a graceful, flowing narrative.