Before I get into my review of The Daughters’ War, I have to jump up and down, wave my hands, and scream it loudly - this is a very different book froBefore I get into my review of The Daughters’ War, I have to jump up and down, wave my hands, and scream it loudly - this is a very different book from The Blacktongue Thief. That book was a fun read that pushed back against the gloominess of grimdark and was full of gallows humor, leaving me grinning between grimaces. This . . . well, this is straight-up grimdark, violent and hopeless and sad, but it's not just grimdark. It's also a deeply thoughtful, philosophical read about what makes a soldier, what makes a hero, and what makes a woman.
I said in my review of the first book that, if I were to have one minor complaint, it would be that I’d liked to have gotten to know Galva better. Well, here she is - younger, greener, more innocent, and very much growing into the Galva we'll come to know and admire. You'd think that would make for a rather bland prequel, a story without edge, because we know she has to survive, but as we learn, outliving your sisters is not the same as surviving.
For lack of a better word, this was a grimdark tragedy. We know from the beginning it's not going to end well. Innocenta reminds us again and again that humanity is engaged in a war of attrition against the goblins, with her sister Raven Knights as expendable as they are experimental. It's a brutal story, with grotesque acts of violence that clearly establish the goblins as a terrifying force to be reckoned with. The story shocked me on more than one occasion, but Christopher Buehlman is to be commended for always giving that shock meaning and context. It's not so much about the horrors, but the hopelessness they breed.
On that note, goblins are not the only monsters in the book. As we see, especially in the later chapters, humans can be just as bad, especially since they choose to be horrible to one another, whereas goblins are just naturally that way. As seen through Galva's eyes, the betrayal of men, the acts of rape, theft, and abuse are far worse than the most grotesque examples of goblin feeding.
This is not all doom and gloom, however. The sisterhood and camaraderie of the Raven Knights is a wonderful thing to behold, especially where Innocenta is concerned, and the religion into which she introduces Galva, one that teaches them to love the face of death, is both poignant and beautiful. There's a strength in the bonds between the found family of women, just as there is between families into which we're born, and even the worst of her sisters and better than the worst of her brothers. When it comes to humanity, there is even justice to be found, and I dare you to find fault with vengeance when it's explored here.
The Daughters’ War started off very slowly, feeling dry and detached compared to the first book, but once it gets its hooks in you . . . once you begin to think, feel, and experience the world through Galva's eyes . . . the whole story shifts. It's so much deeper and darker than I expected, and unbelievably powerful for it. I won't say that I enjoyed it better than the first, but I appreciated it more, and for that reason I'm giving it an extra half-star.
I'll be honest, I struggled with the opening chapters of this. They seemed rushed, a little thin, and rather simplistic. It had a very YA feel to it, I'll be honest, I struggled with the opening chapters of this. They seemed rushed, a little thin, and rather simplistic. It had a very YA feel to it, which I wasn't expecting - and that was entirely my own misconception. The book was pitched to me as "a sapphic grimdark fantasy that’s like ACOTAR meets Game of Thrones meets Lovecraft" and the ACOTAR reference slipped right by me. Having never read Sarah J. Maas, I had to look the acronym up after a pause in reading, just to see if I'd missed a flag, and clearly I had.
So, having reset my expectations from George R. R. Martin level depth and complexity to more Young/New Adult level fantasy, I settled back in and largely enjoyed this. it's an imaginative read with some solid world-building, the action is well done, and the characters have just enough facets to keep them interesting. For me, the story really came alive in the second half, which is a lot time to keep reading in hopes of that twist or shift that hooks you, but I'm glad I hung on.
I received an advance review copy for free, and I am leaving this review voluntarily....more
If you're expecting this to be a typical fantasy where the heroine miraculously brings together opposing sides through the love of friends and family,If you're expecting this to be a typical fantasy where the heroine miraculously brings together opposing sides through the love of friends and family, then you're in for a rude awakening. The Unbroken is a brutally honest look at all the ugliness of colonialism, rebellion, racism. It's a story about not even knowing which side you're supposed to be on, much less which side to choose. It's so good, so unexpectedly tragic in every way, that I was left speechless as I turned the final page.
C.L. Clark explores the clash of cultures and empires through Touraine, a soldier taken from her home so long ago she no longer recognizes it as home. She's come to identify with the Balladairan captors who erased her culture and trained and educated her to like them even though she'll never be accepted as one of them. She's loyal to the Empire, but her love is for the Sands, her fellow conscripts from the conquered desert colonies. Coming back to Qazāl reopens old wounds for all of them, testing sympathies and highlighting inequalities as they're forced to take up arms against their own people.
Fittingly, for a book that's all about women, a book in which nearly all of the leadership roles are filled by women, a book in which women-loving-women is the predominant relationship on display, it's only fitting that the overarching conflict is represented by four women - Touraine, Pruett, General Cantic, and Princess Luca (actually, there's a fifth, but to talk of her would be to wade deep into spoilers). Pruett is a soldier of the Sands and a lover to Touraine, a woman whose own loyalties are cleaner and simpler, and whose love tugs hard at Touraine's loyalties. Cantic is the woman who trained the Sands, a mother figure and a mentor, whose loyalties are muddied at best, and whose influence over Touraine further clouds her loyalties. Princess Luca embodies the Balladairan empire, a woman who has come to Qazāl to end the rebellion and take their magic, a woman who raises Touraine above her station, and whose affections strain not just loyalty but identity.
Balladaire was a land of gifts and punishments, honey and whips, devastating mercies. The Unbroken is divided into four parts, and each of them pivots on a twist of love and loyalty for Touraine. I don't know that I've ever read a book with such a conflicted heroine, a story that piles on so many jaw-dropping, stomach-churning twists. It's hard to read at times, and Touraine is often hard to like. She's selfish in many ways, and has something of a savior complex compounded by imposter syndrome. We sympathize with her, we absolutely do, and we feel her pains as if they were our own, but she makes pivotal choices for all sides of the conflict without thinking them through. She's a product of her Balladairan upbringing, tempered by her love for the Sands, and challenged by this newfound sense of home, and Clark captures all the depths of psychological horror and emotional torture that represents.
It would be impossible to fix every betrayal on her shoulders. Too many of them were contradictory. Even though this is fantasy, the simmering tension and spark of rebellion in Qazāl is all too familiar. It's about fighting for one's home, pushing back those who would erase your history, your religion, your culture, and your very identity. The faces of the rebellion are a mixed bunch, some more or less likable than others, but we understand their struggle. What makes it all so difficult to digest is that there's no clear sense of evil to the struggle, no one hero or one villain, just a lot of people from different cultures and backgrounds with what they believe to be good intentions. Color, race, and religion are all a part of the conflict, but they're secondary to the fact of a large empire conquering and colonizing its neighbors. While it becomes easier to choose sides as the story moves on, but I dare say it never becomes more comfortable.
The Unbroken is brilliant in its brutality. It's a book that makes you think and feel, a story you're almost forced to take part in. While I loved the ending and thought Clark did a fabulous job of bringing closure to so much conflict, the epilogue leaves me torn. It almost feels as if it undermines the struggle and the sacrifice, opening a door to a more typical fantasy resolution, but knowing how many times this twisted and pivoted, I'm anxious to see what's next.
Veil of the Deserters is everything I was looking for in the highly anticipated follow-up to Scourge of the Betrayer. What Jeff Salyards has crafted hVeil of the Deserters is everything I was looking for in the highly anticipated follow-up to Scourge of the Betrayer. What Jeff Salyards has crafted here is a rare sequel that actually manages to outdo the first. The stakes here are bigger (and clearer), the world-building is taken to a whole new level, and the characters really come alive. Paced exceptionally well throughout, it also has the kind of killer climax that manages to completely satisfy, while still leaving the reader desperate for more.
In wrapping up my review of Scourge of the Betrayer, the opening book in Bloodsounder's Arc, I said:
"My only complaint is that this feels like less of a complete story and more of a first arc in a longer book, the kind of opening installment that catches your interest but leaves you wanting to reserve judgement until you know more."
Well, you can forget what I said about reserving judgement, and stop waiting to know more. Salyards gives us answers aplenty here, lifts the veil on the larger story, and pulls everything together in a novel that feels complete in every way. With the introduction of his sister, Soffjian, we not only learn more about who Captain Braylar is, but we begin to understand where he comes from, and what it means to be Syldoon. Their shared back-story is revealed throughout the novel, a few pieces at a time, and proves to be as complex as it is tragic. Soffjian is an interesting character in her own right, but it's in her role alongside Skeelana in exposing the reader to the secrets of Memoridon magic where she really excels.
Arki really comes into his own here, stepping up as a man, a fighter, and as a force to be reckoned with in the army. He still has a tendency to stammer and draw out his explanations, but he also has learned to stand up for himself against Braylar and the rest of the Syldoon. He even begins to develop something of a tentative friendship with Vendurro, which adds a whole new angle to the story, particularly in revealing a more human side to the old soldier. Most importantly, though, we learn the Captain's true purpose in recruiting a scribe, and see him play a crucial role in the latter half of the book.
There are some moments of morbid, gallows style humor to the tale that play well against the darkness of Captain Braylar's affliction, with his addiction to Bloodsounder getting worse by the page. It's that addiction which leads to a well-intentioned act of disobedience by Vendurro, Hewspear, and Mulldoos, and that simple decision to heal the Captain that proves to have significant repercussions in the story's final act. There's also some softer moments throughout the story, with friendships and the tease of a relationship rounding out what we already know of the Syldoon.
It's with the revelations of Memoridon magic and overall world-building where Veil of the Deserters takes the biggest steps in escalating this second installment to a new level. We get to see more of the wider world, including Sunwrack - home to the Syldoon - and learn about the deeper politics involved not just between nations, but between Syldoon Towers. It's that world-building that brings about the biggest twists in the story, and which sets up a climax that delivers more than enough 'wow' to make up for the more subtle end to the first book. It's an entirely satisfying conclusion, one that pulls together all the key plot threads in the novel, and which provides a stunning cliffhanger - physically and emotionally - for the next book.
Not that the first book needs to be redeemed or anything of the sort, but Veil of the Deserters puts that story arc into a larger context, and opens up the larger tale that Salyards has set out to tell. Definitely one of the strongest middle installments I've read in a very long time, and just an overall fantastic read. Highly recommended, especially to those who (like myself) came away from the first book wanting something more.
Like any great story, The Wheel of Osheim is a book of lies . . . a story of lies . . . a very mythology of lies. Names, people, places, memories, hisLike any great story, The Wheel of Osheim is a book of lies . . . a story of lies . . . a very mythology of lies. Names, people, places, memories, histories - all damned lies. I'm treading on the edge of spoiler territory here (I can see the gaping chasm to my left) but, as we come to discover late in the tale, the entire story of Jalan Kendeth actually hinges on a single lie that's too painful to even contemplate here.
In wrapping up his third and final chapter of The Red Queen's War, Mark Lawrence has truly outdone himself. I would actually go so far as to say that this is his best book, hands down, and that is no lie.
While he's used a number of different framing devices in spinning his tales of Jorg and Jalan, Lawrence's approach here is perfectly suited to the shaping of lies. The book opens with Jalan's comic escape from the bowels of Hell, seemingly robbing us of a resolution to the cliffhanger that ended The Liar's Key. It's several chapters later before we get the first fragment of Jalan's journey through (and escape from) Hell. As for Snorri's own journey, his is a tale that must wait until the closing chapters of the tale, a story to be shared as a distraction from the living lies that surround the Wheel of Osheim itself.
There's a lot of overlap here with The Broken Empire, with some of Jorg's darkest acts there having a major bearing here - not just on Jalan's journey, but on the world around him. Even more so than in the first two books, we really get to see Jorg's influence on the world from a different perspective, one that's shaped by the lies of those who would interpret his methods and motives for themselves. What we know to be entirely human acts of Builder brutality are reimagined here as divine acts of the gods, who are themselves an entirely different sort of lie . . . but I won't say any more on the score.
A big part of what sets this book (and this series) apart for me is the character arc of Jalan. Here is a character who has grown, evolved, matured, and emerged from his own lies as the story has progressed. We still get the drunken, cowardly fool of the first two books, a young man who repeatedly resorts to liquor-fueled lies to hide from the cruelties of the world. He's just as amusing as he was before, but much less exasperating. At the same time, we also get the hero of Aral Pass, a soldier and a leader who overcomes the lies Jalan used to shield himself from responsibility. He's still largely a reluctant hero, but also a motivated one.
Once again, Builder technology plays a significant role in the story, but it's the lies told about it and the mythologies created to explain its magics that really drive things. Lawrence throws a lot of gadgets and set pieces at the reader, veering closer to the edges of science fiction than ever before, but it's the slow unveiling of the truth that makes this so exciting. It is story that's as clever as it is exciting, with the climax surrounding the Wheel of Osheim entirely worth the three books that it's taken to realize. There are so many little details in the last hundred or so pages, it's worth rereading to see how carefully Lawrence constructed the lies of Loki and his key.
While I won't say much about them (at risk of spoiling things), the Red Queen, the Silent Sister, and Lady Blue finally get their moments to shine here. They've been built up so much over the course of the books that I really wondered what Lawrence could possibly do with them, but it all pays off. As for Snorri, he doesn't get a lot of page time here, but the role he plays in Jalan's quest, and the way his own is finally resolved, will satisfy even the most jaded of readers. Lawrence isn't an author who indulges in needless sentimentality, but there is significant emotional impact to Snorri's last, lonely steps through Hell that will resonate with even the most jaded of readers.
The Wheel of Osheim is an epic book in every sense of the word. In terms of scope, imagination, and significance it actually feels bigger than the trilogy that came before it. It's a book that captures the spectacle that Lawrence does so well, but also the human aspect. Even as we face off against some of the biggest, darkest monsters we've seen yet, those lies are slowly unraveled, allowing us to see the true face of danger . . . and the man destined to end it.
Disclaimer: I received a complimentary ARC of this title from the publisher in exchange for review consideration. This does not in any way affect the honesty or sincerity of my review.
With Grey Sister, the second book in the Book of the Ancestor, Mark Lawrence graduates Nona to Mystic Class, pushes Abbess Glass to the brink, and takWith Grey Sister, the second book in the Book of the Ancestor, Mark Lawrence graduates Nona to Mystic Class, pushes Abbess Glass to the brink, and takes the action outside the Convent of Sweet Mercy, across the ice, and into the halls of the enemy.
The first act of this was fantastic, not so much because of the training – although I do enjoy the Sisters and their personalities – but because of the personal conflicts. Even in a convent perched before the advancing, ice without the shipheart that kept it warm, with the end of the world approaching, divisions of class and Class set Novice against Novice. The bullying, the attacks, the plotting, the scheming, it’s as cold-blooded as the Noi-Guin assassins – maybe even more so. The otherwise insignificant test of disguise, to cross a crowded room unseen, slip into a tree, and open a treasure chest, is one of the most exciting sequences in the entire book.
Ironically, while I’m generally not a fan of coming-of-age stories and extended training montages, and am usually anxious to get out into the wider world, the second act felt somewhat uneven to me. Nona’s scenes seemed to lack the intensity of life in the Convent, even though her life is constantly in danger. There were some interesting surprises, including some welcome ties to the events of Red Sister, but even then . . . well, I don’t know, it just felt like her story was transitioning to the next act. That being said, the scenes in that second act with Abbess Glass are absolutely brilliant. The fact that a seemingly defeated woman, in chains, being dragged to torture the Inquisition, should be such a source of humor and heroism is absurd, but this is not a woman you want to mess with. She’s a leader and a visionary who gives new definition to the term long-game.
The final arc here is, of course, where Lawrence shines brightest, and he does so by making characters suffer. This is as dark and brutal and grim as it gets, with overlapping stories of revenge, punishment, and just outright cruelty fighting one another for space on the page. There’s heroism, justice, and even forgiveness to be found here as well, but none of it comes easy, and it doesn’t always come from where you expect. Oh, and you want twists? The Inquisition alone is like a tennis match, with the balance of power shifting with each volley of accusations and secrets. By the time it’s all over, the picture that emerges of just how carefully all of this has been constructed is utterly brilliant.
There were a few characters here I would have like to see more of, but even when they’re off the page, they’re doing things that advance the plot. At this point, I can’t even begin to imagine where the story may end up in Holy Sister, but it’s going to be one hell of a read finding out.
For all you Jorg haters out there, that one line, that simple declaration, sums up The Broken Empire bet‘Dark times call for dark choices. Choose me.’
For all you Jorg haters out there, that one line, that simple declaration, sums up The Broken Empire better than anything I might be able to coax from my tired brain. Yes, for the second night in a row, a book has gotten its hooks into me and demanded I stay up far too late reading the final 200 pages. Fortunately, Emperor of Thorns delivered in almost every respect, defiantly answering my every conflicting emotion resulting from its predecessor, King of Thorns.
Mark Lawrence has taken the successful formula of the first two books, tweaked it, twisted it, and triumphed over the most problematic - and predictable - portions. Once again we find ourselves on a journey, but it's rediscovered some of the novelty and macabre sense of wonder that made the first book so fun. As was the case with the first two books, we have two interwoven stories, but whereas I found the flashback portion of the second book a bit weak, here it's strong enough to carry a tale all on its own. As for my concerns about the artifacts of Builder technology playing such a crucial role in the climax of the first two books, I am very pleased to say that they've proven to be completely unfounded. In fact, what Lawrence does to bring that aspect of the tale to the forefront here is one of the novel's most pleasant surprises.
Another pleasant surprise is the continuing growth of Jorg. Yes, he's a right royal bastard, and about as far from a knight in shining armor as you can get, but he's human. We saw some growth in the second book as he matured and grew into his role as king, but here we see him grow into the role of expectant father as well. Of course, that brings about a whole slew of issues, given his dark relationship with his own father, but Lawrence develops it well, making it a key focus of the story, without overdoing it. In fact, there are some very nice parallels with the first book, including a surprise appearance of the very carriage that carried Jorg's mother and brother to their doom. Sadly, Miana feels a bit wasted here, given her developed in the last book, but I thought Katherine's role in things was very nicely played out, with more than a few surprises.
An even darker book than the first two, with the Dead King's armies sweeping across the land, Emperor of Thorns still manages to provide a little dark humor, and even some genuine emotion along the way. I could have done without the interludes of Chella's story, but that's a minor quibble on my part. As for the climax . . . well, there are really two endings to the tale, both of which are extraordinarily well played. Without getting into spoiler territory, the first is largely inevitable, but still a hell of a lot of fun to watch come to fruition, while the second is a complete and utter surprise, an entirely bold choice on Lawrence's part to provide a note of finality to things.
I said in my review of King of Thorns that it was a bigger book than the Prince of Thorns in every respect, and a tale that leaves even bigger expectations. Well, even if this is a somewhat smaller and more intimate tale, it more than manages to deliver on those expectations. An entirely satisfying conclusion to an original and exciting saga. Highly recommended.
While I enjoyed Scourge of the Betrayer, the first book of Bloodsounder's Arc, it was Veil of the Deserters that really opened my eyes to what Jeff SaWhile I enjoyed Scourge of the Betrayer, the first book of Bloodsounder's Arc, it was Veil of the Deserters that really opened my eyes to what Jeff Salyards was capable of. Not only did it overcome the dreaded middle-book curse, it actually proved to be one of those rare sequels that completely surpass the first. I came away from it thoroughly satisfied, but also hungry for more.
That brings us to Chains of the Heretic, the third and final book of Bloodsounder's Arc. Where that second volume expanded upon the world and the story of the first, this one rips that world wide open and shoves us headlong into a whole new heap of betrayals. More importantly, where that second book was a textbook example of how you build to a climax, Chains of the Heretic schools the genre on how you successfully deliver it.
Seriously, it is that good.
As much as I'd love to gush about what Salyards did with the larger storyline and the overall mythology, just about anything I could say here would constitute a spoiler. What I will say is that a lot happens in this book, and it all has significant consequences for our band of Jackals. Everything that was set up in the first two books comes to a head here, with all the dangling plot threads getting tied off - even if some of those knots are deliberately ragged and loose. This is not one of those perfectly tidy, happily-ever-after finales, and anybody who was expecting different clearly hasn't been paying attention. Bloodsounder's Arc was never about completing a quest, saving the world, or succeeding on some epic scale. It was always the story of one man, Captain Braylar Killcoin, as seen through the eyes of his company scribe, Arki (Arkamandos).
I'm not sure I've encountered any character in the last decade or so who grows and evolves as much as Arki. As character arcs go, his is so steady, so consistent, and so entirely grounded that you don't really appreciate how far he's come until you look back on the saga as a whole. Arki is the epitome of the average man. There are no hidden secrets or revelations behind him, and no cumbersome prophecies or destinies hanging over him. He's just a lowly scribe, trying to fit in, and working hard to be accepted by a band of rugged Syldoon warriors. Don't get me wrong, he has some significant moments in this final chapter - some worth cheering about, and others cringe worthy - but Salyards never tries to break him or to make him more than he was ever meant to be.
As for Braylar, his character arc was always set up to be that of the tragic hero, and he never shies away from what needs to be done. At the end of the day, even if he has some uncomfortable family issues, and even if he does wield a cursed flail, he is just another soldier. He's not out for gold or glory, and he's not looking to claim a throne or save a world. Braylar is there to do his job, and help return his deposed emperor to power. As we discover here, he doesn't necessarily have to like the man or agree with his methods to do the job. His is not a story about ideals, but one of duty. There's a lot in this final chapter than challenges our sense of wrong and right, and much that makes us question whether the end can ever justify the means, but Braylar remains the heroic figure around which the story turns.
Chains of the Heretic takes us beyond the shimmering Godveil (and back); reveals the origins of the cursed Bloodsounder; damages some characters horrifically; delves deep into the treacheries of the Syldoon Empire; exposes the roots of Sofjian's loathing for her brother; kills other characters (some of them surprising); and makes us question every motive. It has its moments of black humor, and even a few fleeting moments of happiness, but by and large it is a dark and tragic tale. The action reaches a crescendo here, with some of the biggest battles (and biggest foes) we've seen yet. Salyards takes us across the world, and even if he leaves us cold and weary amid the carnage, we're still anxious for the next campaign . . . should we be so lucky to return to his world.
Disclaimer: I received a complimentary ARC of this title from the publisher in exchange for review consideration.This does not in any way affect the honesty or sincerity of my honest review.
A solid fantasy with engaging characters, hints of magic, and violent twists, We Ride the Storm had a frustrating lack of answers, but it’s still a daA solid fantasy with engaging characters, hints of magic, and violent twists, We Ride the Storm had a frustrating lack of answers, but it’s still a damned fine read.
Devin Madson tells her story through three POV characters, alternating between them in the early going, but then largely leaving one behind in the second half. Part of the reason why I liked this rather than loved it is the fact that it was my favorite character she neglected.
Princess Miko Ts’ai, a young woman trapped between a father’s tainted legacy and a stepfather’s ugly rule, is the first character we meet. She is a frustrating character, single-minded and courageous to the point of foolishness, but also incredibly naive for one who has grown up in such a tenuous situation. I liked her, and I loved the way her story arc developed, but I found her a hard character to pin down. The ways in which she’s learned the art of war while being ignored is perhaps the most interesting way in which the story explores the refreshing twist of a Princess, not a Prince, striving to seize power in a time of war.
The next POV character we meet is Captain Rah e’Torin of the Levanti horse tribes, a young man just as single-minded as naive as Miko. The world is changing around him, but he refuses to change with it. He’s one of those characters who would rather see his people die honoring their culture than live changed by the world. He is an admirable young man, one who remains true to his ideals no matter what the cost, and while there were more than a few moments where I had to applaud that passion, he was also somewhat tiresome. If he’d had more personality, some humor or potential for joy within his perpetually dour bearing, he might have been more interesting.
The last POV character we meet is Cassandra Marius, who was by far the most interesting of the lot. She’s a dangerous woman, using her role as a whore to get close to the men she’s hired to assassinate, but what makes her so intriguing is her connection to death. The dead call to her (in what way we’re never quite told), and she has a voice inside her head that constantly argues against her dark passions. She captivated me from her first chapter. I would have gladly read a novel all about her, or one where she is the only POV, but she’s sadly neglected in the second half, and we’re never given the answers we crave as to how/why the dead call to her, who that voice is, or just what she expects the mysterious Witchdoctor to do for her.
While he’s not a POV character, Dom Leo Villius is another character I wanted to see more of and know more about. Like Cassandra, this book left me with far too many questions about him for my liking. He has so much personality for a secondary character (his verbal sparring with Cassandra is fantastic), and the twists in his story are some of the most genuine in the book. He’s not comic relief, not by any stretch, but his every scene does breathe a little light and life into the story.
As for the plot, it was a solid story of cultures at war, empires at risk, and challenges for succession. I thoroughly enjoyed it, especially the ways in which schemes and plots threatened to topple empires from within, but I also struggled with the world building. We don’t see enough of Kisia to really understand it as an empire, and the potential of an Emperor past his prime and an Empress playing Lady Macbeth from the shadows is largely squandered. Similarly, the Chiltae seem more a race of people than a political force, and I struggled to understand where they stood and how they compared to Kisia. The bulk of the world building seems to go to the Levanti horse tribes, but I found them the least interesting and became bored with them.
Despite my frustrations, We Ride the Storm did end exceptionally strong, bringing together all of the plots and machinations to topple one empire while establishing a long-hinted new power. There are no great surprises there, no killer twists to leave the reader reeling, but it’s a satisfactory climax.
If you're a fan of The Broken Empire saga, then you know that it was very much Jorg's tale. While every reader has a favorite from his band road brothIf you're a fan of The Broken Empire saga, then you know that it was very much Jorg's tale. While every reader has a favorite from his band road brothers, we really only got to know them through their interactions with their Prince/King. Any background that we were able to glean came largely from conversations on the road.
With Road Brothers: Tales from the Broken Empire, Mark Lawrence allows many of those brothers to step off the road and tell their own tales. These are stories that strip away the rough layers of bravado and expose the truth about who they were, and how they came to be the men that Jorg allowed us to know.
Sleeping Beauty are Select Mode are the two Jorg-centric stories here, and either one could be a missing chapter from the original trilogy. Both make interesting use of Builder technology, with the former an entirely chilling tale, and the latter a more humorous one. Hakin and the Nuban get a chance to shine here.
As for the other stories, they allow Makin, Red Kent, Brother Sim, Rike, the mutant Gorgoth, and Father Gomst all to have their moment in the spotlight. As an added bonus for fans of The Red Queen's War, we even get to meet Snorri ver Snagason’s father in one of the tales. Rather than feeling like missing chapters, these are clearly side stories that would have interrupted the flow of Jorg's tale. Having said that, they're all fascinating character studies and really do serve to shed some additional light on the series.
If you haven't already read The Broken Empire, then step back . . . put the book down . . . and do yourself a favor by picking up the first three books. Not only do spoilers abound here, but you really do need the background to appreciate the significance of what's been revealed here. If you are already a fan, then this is a perfect chance to reconnect with the characters, and a perfect way to pass the time while we wait for The Wheel of Osheim this summer.
Disclaimer: I received a complimentary copy of this title from the author in exchange for review consideration. This does not in any way affect the honesty or sincerity of my review.
Immediately fascinating with its unorthodox boarding of Joron Twiner and Lucky Meas, only to flounder for a while in seemingly directionless seas, TheImmediately fascinating with its unorthodox boarding of Joron Twiner and Lucky Meas, only to flounder for a while in seemingly directionless seas, The Bone Ships does find its sea-legs in the second half, sailing into a satisfying conclusion.
The first half of this book is, for the most part, character introductions and world-building. RJ Barker throws the reader right into the deepest seas of information and then douses us with words, terms, names, and details that often lack any clear meaning until context comes along later. It’s a fascinating word, both from a cultural and geological perspective, and the the approach to dragons is excitingly original, but there is a lot to take in. It’s an ugly world, dangerous and full of dirty people with dirty ideas, and the crew of the Tide Child are its unwanted, unloved, forgotten outcasts. It’s the kind of crew where a strange woman can walk in, claim a hat, yell at a few people, knock a few heads, and simply assume command because, with one exception, nobody else wants it.
The narrative here is a bit odd, reminiscent of a few grimdark sagas I’ve enjoyed, in that the hero, the protagonist, the main character is not the narrative point-of-view. Instead, it’s the deposed shipwife, Joron, who tells the tale, and its through his eyes that we witness the bold, brash, ballsy actions of Lucky Meas. He’s a decent character with some reasonable growth, who becomes less annoying as he becomes more familiar, but it was Lucky Meas who captained my imagination. She is so much fun to watch, a force of nature stronger than any sea-borne tempest, and as unrelenting as the storm-tossed waves. She’s a leader, through and through, and you can either accept it or get the hell out of her way.
The other characters who intrigued me here were the monstrous, once-feathered, gullaime windtalker, the only member of the crew to give Lucky Meas serious pause; and the courser, Aelerin, neither woman nor man, and regarded with superstitious dread, although their role in the story comes largely in the second half.
As for the story, what we have is a black ship of doomed souls in search of a legendary dragon – once commonplace enough to form the hulls of the bone ships, but hunted to near-extinction – hoping to redeem themselves with an act of heroic bravery. Of course, they are not the only ship in search of the legendary arakeesian, which makes for some suitably epic scenes of naval warfare between bone ships, especially since the Tide Child is the only ship looking to save the dragon. It’s exhilarating stuff, like the best scenes of a pirate tale, only with a little more magic and mayhem . . . and some terrifying beasts of the deep, just to keep everyone on their toes.
For my first literary voyage with RJ Barker, The Bone Ships was a great one, and I’ll definitely be booking berth on the next tale to set sail.
I opened my review of Prince of Thorns, book 1 of The Broken Empire saga, by saying:
"Damn, but this was one hell of a book!"
I would like to begin thisI opened my review of Prince of Thorns, book 1 of The Broken Empire saga, by saying:
"Damn, but this was one hell of a book!"
I would like to begin this review in a similar spirit, by saying:
"Damn, but this was one hell of a book to review."
I've let it settle and digest for a few days, but I'm still very conflicted in my thoughts regarding King of Thorns. Mark Lawrence has improved upon many aspects of that first book, particularly in the areas of character development and world-building, but the converging paths of the narrative structure didn't work so well for me this time around.
Generally, I'm not a big fan of stories that jump back and forth in time, balancing flashbacks with the 'current' or 'present day' narrative. It's just not a device that works for me. Having said that, it did work for me in the first book, largely because Jorg was such a unique sort of protagonist that I was truly interested in just what happened to place his feet upon such a path. Here, the 'present day' narrative jumps ahead four years, forcing a gap that allows for the same device to be used again. The problem is, with my curiosity about Jorg's origins already sated, the flashbacks here lacked the same drawing power. As much as I appreciate what Lawrence attempted to do with the copper box - I thoroughly enjoyed the way in which his banked memories altered the course of battle - I didn't find the 'big' memory a compelling enough mystery to justify taking us away from the events of his wedding day.
Of course, it doesn't help that the story of Jorg's wedding day is such a strong story on its own. Taking place over the course of a single day, it develops his character, advances the plot, and resolves several key conflicts in exemplary fashion. Here we have a few moments of courtship, a rushed marriage, a siege, a quest, and a battle - more than enough to carry a tale. Once again, Jorg and his band of brother face impossible odds, but find novel and exciting ways of stealing the upper hand. This is fighting dirty, as we'd expect, but it works.
Speaking of fighting dirty, the climax is another aspect of the tale about which I'm conflicted. It's completely in keeping with Jorg's character, and brilliantly resolves some of the larger challenges facing his march to the ultimate throne, but once again it relies upon artifacts of Builder technology. I'm honestly not sure whether I like that pattern. It intrigues me and excites me, and I love the Dark Tower way in which the ghosts of the past have both a significance and an enduring sense of peril, but it just felt a little to convenient here, a little too much of a stretch. Ultimately, whether it's a clever device or a bit of a cheat is something I really can't say until I see how Emperor of Thorns is resolved. I would actually be disappointed not to see it attempted again, but the 'how' and the 'why' of it will mean everything.
I would, of course, be remiss not to say a few words about the women of the world. While her diary entries didn't necessarily add anything to the narrative for me, it's clear that Katherine is being pressed into a pivotal role. Not only is she quickly becoming a key piece in the overall game of thrones, but the significance of her thorn in Jorg's side continues to grow. As for his child-bride Miana, she was a pleasant surprise, worthy of not just her place in the story, but also of a place as Jorg's side. I expected very little of her going in, but began to like her early on, and definitely respected her contributions by the end. Chella, as we might expect, continues to play a role in events, haunting Jorg's thoughts and driving him into confrontation with the dead. The scene in which she forces a confrontation with the ghosts of his genocide amid the marsh and the mud is just awesome, and almost enough to redeem my conflict about the dueling narratives.
Overall, King of Thorns is a strong read, and a worthy sequel to Prince of Thorns. Despite my conflicts with the telling of it, I enjoyed it immensely, and actually stayed up late to read the final 200+ pages. The cast of characters has grown, Jorg has grown, the world has grown, and the stakes have grown. A bigger book than the first in every respect, this is a tale that leaves even bigger expectations for Emperor of Thorns.
Opinions of the entire Broken Empire series seem to be strongly divided, with most readers falling into either tDamn, but this was one hell of a book!
Opinions of the entire Broken Empire series seem to be strongly divided, with most readers falling into either the love it or loathe it camp, and very few counting themselves indifferent. I've seen reviews that bemoan the character of Jorg, asking how we can be expected to follow such a damaged protagonist, and others celebrating the daring chances Mark Lawrence has taken with the series.
Well, you can definitely count me in the love it camp, at least as far as Prince of Thorns is concerned. This is a book that struck me in much the same way as Steven Erikson's Gardens of the Moon or Michael Moorcock's Elric of Melniboné once did, just completely playing against all expectations of the genre, and surprising me with something original. Lawrence doesn't necessarily do anything new with the core motivations of vengeance and conquest, but he makes some interesting choices in terms of his protagonist/narrator, along with the supporting characters, that are really exciting.
This is fantasy that's dark and epic, following the bloody march towards destiny of a young man and the ragged band of mercenaries with whom he's surrounded himself. Jorg is a ruthless killer who has no problem playing dirty, and who doesn't give a damn how anybody else feels about him. He's not out to make friends or win followers, and certainly isn't worried about charming his way through the byzantine world of royal politics. Many readers have complained he isn't a likable hero, but you have to admire his tenacity, and you have to feel a bit of sympathy for his origins. Cheering him on is a guilty pleasure, but a pleasure nonetheless.
Getting back to that Erikson comparison, this is a book where nobody is safe. Lawrence kills off characters I was sure would be with us for a while, including one who I fully expected to remain at Jorg's side until the very end, and does so with unimaginable cruelty. Hearkening back to the Moorcock comparison, this is also a book where absolutely power is allowed to corrupt - and destroy - absolutely. To say that the climax of this first volume is explosive is a ridiculous understatement, but it's refreshing to come across an author who isn't afraid to make the big sacrifices.
Of course, I would be woefully remiss if I didn't mention one last comparison, and that is to Stephen King's Dark Tower opus. Lawrence has done a masterful job here of subtly setting his fantasy saga in a post-apocalyptic future that defines the story in some areas, but never overwhelms it. Early on, it's not even clear whether we're post-apocalyptic or alternate history, but once you start reading about the Builders, plasteek sheets, and the Day of a Thousand Suns, you begin piecing it all together. The climax beneath Castle Red is very evocative of King's confrontation of past demons, and strong enough to be worth mentioning in the same breath.
Bring on King of Thorns, because I need to know where Jorg goes from here.
I actually finished Scourge of the Betrayer last week, but it's taken me a few days to decide precisely how to approach a review. It's such an oddly sI actually finished Scourge of the Betrayer last week, but it's taken me a few days to decide precisely how to approach a review. It's such an oddly structured novel, and one that forgoes so many genre cliches, I wanted to give myself time to separate the novelty of the reading experience from the story itself.
Most fantasy novels begin with a very clear explanation of who the characters are, what the story is about, and where the story is going; the author immediately defines a goal, a destination, or an objective against which to measure progress; and then leads us to the discovery of a monster, a villain, an empire, or a philosophy to be defeated as the ultimate measure of success.
With Scourge of the Betrayer we get none of that. We're introduced to the characters by name, given a few vague hints and clues as to their roles within the world, and then we're off. Much like Arki, the scribe who provides our focal point into the world, we're kept in the dark as to where we're going, why we're going there, and what it is we hope to accomplish. More than that, we're denied any insight into the significance of events, and robbed of the opportunity to play along and estimate where we are on the journey.
It's a dangerously ambitious way to tell a story, and one with as much potential to alienate readers as to engage them. Fortunately, Salyards know just how to pace his clues, creating a sense of drama and anticipation that wouldn't otherwise be found in what is ultimately revealed to be a rather straightforward tale. Instead of driving towards a goal or a destination we, as readers, are driving instead towards an understanding of who Captain Braylar is and what, exactly, his Slydoon are up to.
The fact that Salyards tells such a stark, brutal, realistic tale certainly helps - had this been a lighter or brighter fantasy, the storytelling likely wouldn't have worked so well. Instead, the edginess of the storytelling plays well against the edginess of the characters and their world, actually serving to draw the reader in. Make no mistake, it's a literary tease, and one that's often frustrating, but it somehow all comes together.
Of course, every story must have its end, and every mystery must have it's big reveal. The big reveal here is less of a "WOW!" and more of an "hmm . . . okay" moment, but it's in keeping with the rest of the story. While I was looking for something a bit more grand, something with a bit more significance, I can't really say I was disappointed. The reveal, and the casual way in which it takes place, just seem to fit. Besides, in a story that is so character-driven, it's only fitting that the most significant moments be saved for the characters themselves, not their purpose.
My only complaint is that this feels like less of a complete story and more of a first arc in a longer book, the kind of opening instalment that catches your interest but leaves you wanting to reserve judgement until you know more. Having said that, it's an intriguing enough first arc to make me want to read more, and there's no better recommendation I can offer than that.
I seem to have a middle-book (and movie) fetish, often preferring those dark, penultimate story arcs over the eventual climax. As much as I did enjoy I seem to have a middle-book (and movie) fetish, often preferring those dark, penultimate story arcs over the eventual climax. As much as I did enjoy Holy Sister, and thought it had some amazing scenes, the Book of the Ancestor is another saga that peaked, for me, with Grey Sister.
Part of what bothered me in this final book is the dual-narrative format Mark Lawrence employs, flipping back-and-forth between Present Day and Three Years Earlier. That’s a device that rarely works for me, serving more as a distraction that tempers any narrative tension, rather than as one that keeps the reader dually engaged. I understand why he did it, and the format does allow for the clever reveal of a few half-truth assumptions in the latter chapters, but it kept me at a distance from the overall story.
Another part of what bothered me – perhaps even more than the dual narrative – is the shift to a single POV. Yes, Nona was always our primary POV, but the first two books had key scenes and that we saw through other character’s eyes, and their perspective gave events meaning. Losing those other POVs mean far too much happens off-the-page, with both triumphs deaths reduced to factual statements devoid of all emotion. Compounding that issue, Nona becomes something of an unreliable narrator here, holding things back for dramatic purposes that it doesn’t seem natural for her to omit, further straining the narrative.
Make no mistake, there is a lot to love about Holy Sister. The resolution of the whole Chosen One trope with Nona & Zole was well done, with a few red herrings and a linguistic twist that I quite appreciated. I thoroughly enjoyed the caper aspect of the story, with the way Lawrence graduated the novices through their forbidden actions, having one play into the other. As far as pleasant surprises go, Sister Pan seemingly coming out of nowhere to kick some serious ass may have been the highlight of the climax. In terms of payoff, all the talk of shiphearts, Arks, and the moon actually comes to something, and even if it didn’t pay off as I hoped/expected, there was a significant payoff. Oh, and in the made-me-smile category, Kettle & Apple stop being alluded to as a naughty secret and get actual on-the-page acknowledgement as a passionate, loving couple!
Having said all that, I need to bitch about some things, and they’re 100% spoilers:
(view spoiler)[ * Abbess Glass dies off the page, and we never get an answer as to how/why? Seriously? * After all her betrayals, we’re just going to quietly leave Joeli to her schemes, and then act surprised when things fall apart because of her? Really? * With her role in the last book and her establishment as a key antagonist, that’s all we get with Sherzal? And that’s how she ends? Come on! * Her love for Kettle having just been validated, Sister Apple dies off-the-page? That’s just too much. They deserved better. * After all the suggestions about Nona & Ara, where the hell does the Regal romance come in? And are we supposed to then cheer for Ara as a consolation prize . . . one lamely hinted at with a handclasp rather than validated with a kiss? Nope. Sorry. (hide spoiler)]
I realize I’m sounding very critical of a book I mostly enjoyed, but Grey Sister was so good, and Holy Sister had so much potential, it’s a shame a few bad choices and some poor execution dragged it down. A good book, a solid book, but not the book I was waiting for.
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