August
26,
2003
Back in junior high, I not only arranged my books by publisher, I
bought them by publisher -- at first, I'd only buy Del Rey
books, I eventually branched into Avon, Ace, and Bantam, and I held
out on Tor and Baen for a long time. So when Del Rey introduced their
"Discovery" line, a sub-imprint selling books by new authors for a
low-ish price, I was unsure if it was legit to buy. I mean, it had
the good ol' Del Rey logo, but it had added a bit of a starburst to
it, and it didn't look quite the same. Quite a dilemma.
After a bit of waffling, I decided that it was close enough -- and
that, beside, I'd like to read books by new authors. So I picked up
the Discovery books as they came out. And then I read a few and
realized that if Del Rey really thought these particular authors were
all that, they'd have introduced their books in full-price hardcovers,
not cheap paperbacks. So, not up for reading a bunch of
not-all-that-great first novels, I let the rest of them languish
unread on my shelves.
When I got to college and discovered the Internet, I heard some
praise for Rosemary Kirstein. Well, hey, one of my Discovery books
was her The Outskirter's Secret, so I could read that. Except for
one thing: It was a sequel. Yes, that's right. Del Rey set up
a line devoted to finding and promoting new authors, and then
published a sequel in it. And of course, it was many years
after the book had been published, so the first book was well and
truly out of print.
Well, all good books come back to print in time, and Rosemary Kirstein's The Steerswoman
was republished last month, in an omnibus with The Outskirter's Secret, so I've finally got a chance to read it.
The verdict: It's pretty good. It's one of those
SF-dressed-as-fantasy stories, where the "magic" is pretty
transparently technology; those can be irritating if done badly, but
when they're done well, they're one of the subgenres for which I have
a soft spot.
And Kirstein does it well. Her world is mostly pretty generic, but
has a few interesting twists to it, most notably the steerswomen.
They're an order dedicated to preserving and diffusing knowledge; a
steerswoman must answer truthfully any question placed to her -- but
can also expect a truthful answer to any question she asks (anyone who
refuses to answer a steerswoman's question can never get an answer
from any steerswoman again). This, of course, places them into
conflict with the secretive, knowledge-hoarding wizards. And when the
titular steerswoman stumbles onto a mysterious find... well, you can
see where this is going.
The plot is complex enough to be intriguing, the protagonists (the
steerswoman is joined by a barbarian warrior) are enjoyable, and the
writing is far more assured than you'd expect from a first novel.
There is a bit of a "been there, done that" feel, because of how
faithfully this follows the subgenre conventions; but the ending sets
up changes that should make the sequels more unique.
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August
20,
2003
If you've never been in a used bookstore with Kate
Nepveu, you're missing out on an experience. A few years back, I
got to witness her methodical and relentless targeted search methods
-- and got a copy of Caroline Stevermer's A College of
Magics
thrust into my hands in the process. I promptly placed
it on my shelf to begin the delicate and subtle aging process
necessary to bring out the full aroma and flavor of a book.
Time passed, and Stevermer wrote a sequel, When the King Comes
Home. I picked it up, and (for no obvious reason) read it
more-or-less immediately. I didn't care for it much, as it was
another of those irritating Mythic King stories, like Kushner and
Sherman's The Fall of the Kings; so I mentally pushed A
College of Magics further down my to-read list.
But after reading the Flewelling books, I was in the mood for real
Fantasy of Manners, and Stevermer's novel appeared to be the best fit
for the genre. So, I gave it a whirl -- and I'm glad I did, because
it's a very enjoyable book.
It's also a book with a lying title. You'd think it was set in
college, sort of a cross between Tam Lin and Harry
Potter, but the college only even appears in the first part of the
book, before the plot really picks up its pace. This part is also the
weakest part of the book, suffering from Tam Lin-itis -- the
characters are all insufferable and speak entirely in quotation.
When the protagonist gets out of college, though, things get very
interesting. The setting is superb, Europe in 1908 with magic and a
few fake countries to sit alongside familiar standbys like France and
England. The plot, which involves both aristocratic intrigue (our
heroine is the duchess heir to Galazon, currently under the
heavy-handed rule of her regent uncle) and big magic, advances pacily.
It's not a perfect book, of course. Even past the awkward college
bits, there are some jarring moments. The relationship between the
heroine and her uncle is very unevenly written. At times, it seems
like they're trying to have each other assassinated, and then five
minutes later, they're sitting down for tea as if it's all a jolly bit
of sport. The same thing is true of the other conflicts in the book
-- Stevermer veers between writing them seriously and lightly, and the
effect is frustrating. "Look, she tried to kill you!" you want to
scream. "Quit sniping over scones, and snap her fucking neck
already!"
Warts notwithstanding, this is a fine addition to the Fantasy of
Manners canon, and recommended to fans of that subgenre. But I'm glad
I read the sequel first, because if I were to read it after this, I'd
be extremely disappointed.
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August
13,
2003
Lynn Flewelling's Stalking Darkness
is the second
book of her Nightrunner series -- which is, apparently, not a
trilogy.
As I was reading this book, I was thinking to myself, "My, this
plot is progressing amazingly quickly. What's possibly going to be
left to happen in the third book?" And then I got to the end, and it
looked like the answer was "Nothing much, really," so I went
downstairs and grabbed the third book in the series off the shelf.
Much confusion was resolved, as the author's foreword made it clear
that the Nightrunner series is meant to consist of an initial duology
(of which Stalking Darkness is the second half) and then an
indeterminate number of standalone stories. The sentence "This is not
a trilogy," appeared three times in succession, and everyone knows
that something repeated three times is true.
I'm quite pleased by this. Flewelling probably could have padded
the plot out to a trilogy without much difficulty, but as a duology,
it's got some snap-snap pacing going on, and was a fun read.
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August
10,
2003
Inspired by its inclusion on Kate Nepveu's "Fantasy of Manners" list, I decided to give Lynn Flewelling's Luck in the Shadows
a whirl.
This is one of those books that I've owned for years and years, on
the basis of positive reviews and general good comments; but never got
around to reading, on the basis of not-wildly-positive reviews
and not insanely good comments. When there's a bunch of
allegedly-excellent fiction that I still haven't read, it's hard to
get too excited about stuff that's merely allegedly good. But hey, if
it's in one of my favorite subgenres, mere goodness is enough to push
it further up on my reading list. And besides, I keep seeing new
paperbacks from Flewelling, and I'd like to know whether I should buy
them.
After reading Luck in the Shadows, I've concluded that a) I
should buy her new books, as she's a skilled storyteller writing some
enjoyable stuff, but b) Kate should take her off the "Fantasy of
Manners" list, because she doesn't quite belong. Sure, most of the
action of this novel (which is the first of a trilogy, but stands
alone moderately well) takes place in a cosmopolitan city among
smooth-tongued, intriguing nobles -- but that's just scenery. The
fundamental issues of the story aren't with the noble intrigues, but
with more familiar Dark Gods and Ancient Prophecies. This is epic
fantasy in civilized fantasy clothing.
Viewed as an epic fantasy, Flewelling's novel is quite good. It's
peopled with interesting characters, including one of those
smooth-tongued, hyper-competent rogues that are so fun to read about;
it's got a pleasantly distinctive setting; and the plot moves along
with the requisite paciness. Still and all, I'm not going to praise
it too wildly: While the first-novelness is mostly invisible, there
are a few patches where the plot's forced along a bit obviously; more
importantly, there's very little here that feels truly new. This is a
competent addition to the epic fantasy corpus, but it ultimately reads
as little more than Eddings done properly. It's fun, not too
painfully derivative, but doesn't add much to the genre. There's none
of Duncan's wild inventiveness, of Kay's masterly stylings, of
Martin's realism.
But those are high standards to live up to, and I don't want to
sound as though I'm more negative about this book than I am. Compared
to the other generic fantasy I've reviewed on this booklog, Luck in
the Shadows gets high marks. It's far less derivative than Moon's
Paksenarrion trilogy, much more solidly written than Wrede's Lyra
books, and a lot less lazy than the Eddings' The Redemption of
Althalus. If you like epic fantasy, Luck in the Shadows is
worth reading.
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