Book Review (#3): The Death of the Necromancer

The Death of the Necromancer (by Martha Wells)

This novel is, very simply, a damn lot of fun. Tired of too-generic, way-too-familiar medieval settings in your fantasy? Martha Wells hears you here. To the extent that Ile-Rien, the setting of this book, has a historical analogue, it's something rather more like 18th or perhaps 19th century France - full of the exquisite yet poisonous manners and maneuverings of Society and the cutthroat crime and desperation of the underclasses alike. This book is full of exciting action, the uncovering of mysteries, twisty intrigues, and more besides.

However, by far the finest part of the novel to my mind are simply the characters themselves. Virtually every one of them is finely realized as an individual, and they and the relationships between them are such that you would never be sorry to spend more time with them getting to know them better, even as the plot races forward. Wells has managed that trick (so deceptively difficult) of making the characters she writes seem like real people in their own rights, so that they seem to take on life that goes beyond what is merely written down on paper. You can speculate as to their character, relationships, or motivations by drawing conclusions based on inference, just as one might with actual acquaintances or friends. This is not a small feat.

Probably the most one-dimensional character in the book (though Wells tries her best even here to instill something of depth and a kind of warped sense of a once-relatable - if not necessarily sympathetic - humanity to it) is the titular villain - the Necromancer. This may be owing in large part to the fact that the greater part of the book might more aptly be described as The Hunt for the Necromancer rather than anything directly leading up to his Death, and direct experience with the character is slight compared to what we get with the other major players.

You see, this villain remains shrouded in mystery for more than some little while, as our heroes - a crew of ostensible (well, and often actual) thieves led by a nobleman who in fact conspires to avenge the secret crime of a wicked Lord (you see what I meant about the intrigue?) joined later by others whose identity I won't spoil - first encounter our antagonist when their secret workings collide with his by the simple coincidence that they both happen to be robbing the same place at the same time, albeit of different things.

From there it is a matter of uncovering who or what precisely they stumbled into, as they are drawn at first more by a cycle of reaction and counter-reaction to the initial encounter than by anyone's deliberate plan into ferreting out the entity who is becoming an increasingly dangerous threat to them and, they come to realize, to the whole capital city of Vienne in which they live and operate. This villain, however, is determined to remain elusive though deadly until after its awful plans have come to fruition, and be revealed not a moment before. The journey to the final confrontation (which does not disappoint for any lack of suspense, danger, excitement or cleverness), then, is not a simple or a straightforward one - and much less a safe one.

In the end, though, matters are resolved, and Wells even manages to draw back in and conclude the initial thread of the plot against the wicked Lord in a manner that is not forced, unsatisfactory, or predictable. Again, not a small accomplishment. As I said in the beginning, this book is just a lot of fun to read, and a better adventure you would be hard-pressed to find.

To check it out for yourselves:


--Kulture

P.S.: And hey, look at me - actually reviewing a book that you don't have to have read a whole string of prequels to understand what's going on in it! Don't get too used to it. I don't want to spoil you.

Book Review (#2): I Shall Wear Midnight

I Shall Wear Midnight (by Terry Pratchett - though that's Sir Terry Pratchett to you, commoner!)

So here we are - the fourth and concluding volume of the Tiffany Aching series set in Pratchett's Discworld universe. For those of you sadly benighted enough not to already know, Terry Pratchett is arguably our finest living literary satirist, and despite operating primarily within the typically ghettoized fantasy milieu has earned enough recognition for it to be knighted by the Queen of England. Pratchett being an Englishman, you see. That tends not to happen otherwise.

Though the Tiffany Aching series is nominally YA, you wouldn't particularly know it - it reads pretty much like any other Discworld novel. The YA title seems to have been slapped on it as much because its protagonist (Miss Aching, of course) is young - fifteen-going-on-sixteen in this book. And I swear to God if any of you start so much as humming that thing from the Sound of Music just because the ages are close, I will reach right through your computer and slap you.

Ahem. So, totally-not-completely-empty-threats aside, here's what's going on - as you'd expect if you've read the prior volumes Tiffany Aching, young witch of the Chalk (a rural shepherding region that has never had a witch before), confronts a supernatural threat to herself and her community. And again, she'll do so with the help (whether desired or, indeed, actually helpful) of the Nac Mac Feegle, a clan of little blue pseudo-Scots notable for ferocity and capacity for both destruction and alcohol (which tend to be closely linked) that is wildly out of proportion for their minuscule size.

This time, the threat is (eventually) revealed to be the Cunning Man, an incorporeal spirit of spite and hate that far in the past used to be a human witch-hunter of remarkable brutality. Now it exists only to spread hate against witches as a kind of supernatural memetic plague, and also apparently to try to possess a witch (Miss Aching here, of course) to use her to do as much damage as possible. Not sure where that last part comes from to be honest - the first part makes sense, but the second? Well, whatever - it's in there.

So how is it this time around? Well, Pratchett seldom disappoints - even his lesser volumes tend to be better than the best of most. His ironic tone lends itself to both humor and unexpected insight as well as it ever has (that's well, in case you've still not got the point), and he manages to build the plot to an appropriately exciting conclusion - rather better than in the preceding volume, to be honest. His emphasis on how successful witchery is more a matter of perceptions and simply doing for the community what the community won't for itself than of dramatic magical affairs (except for when suddenly it's not, of course) is as welcome a grounding touch as ever, too.

Pratchett also gives writing a romance a shot here. He's attempted romantic elements before, and it's generally not been his strongest suit. Perhaps it's simply that the arch and ironic tone that serves him so well in other arenas is not necessarily best for something as earnest as romance (particularly of the youthful variety, one might expect). But he manages it here rather better than you might expect from what was just written. The build-up is as much in the background as anywhere, so one might complain that it comes almost out of the blue when it bursts forth so near to full-formed. But any such complaints ought to be silenced by how Pratchett uses it to end the book - with a concluding sentence that's as near to perfect as can reasonably be asked for.

So how good is it? It's damn good.

--Kulture

To check it out for yourself:


Or to get started at the beginning with the first couple books in the series together: