spocksbro

There’s a dialog about 1/3^rd of the way through The Hermetic Millennia where Menelaus Montrose is talking to a Warlock of the 48^th century AD, one of the human races the Hermeticists have created in their quest to create a suitable slave race for the alien intelligences of the Hyades. They’re discussing the man’s holy scriptures and the “history” they relate:

 

Or, in your case, as wide. Wait. Did you just say Gandalf?

 

He is the founder of our order, and the first of the Five Warlocks. He comes from afar across the WesternOcean, from Easter Island, or perhaps from Japan.

 

No, I think he comes from the mind of a story writer. An old-fashioned Roman Catholic from the days just before [the] First Space Age. Unless I am confusing him with the guy who wrote about TalkingAnimalLand? With the Cowardly Lion who gets killed by a Wicked White Witch? I never read the text, I watched the comic.

I tried to read The Golden Age several years ago and remember that I couldn’t finish it. As I recall, the writing was florid and overblown, and it was a chore to read. While the style here is still florid, it worked for me this time (and I may go back to The Golden Age to see if my opinion of that has changed).

Sue Halpern, "Are We Puppets in a Wired World?" NYRB, vol. LX, No. 17

In hindsight one can see the Chronicles of Thomas Covenant building up to the Götterdämmerung that is The Last Dark.† In the first Chronicle, Thomas Covenant, an outcast leper in our world, is translated to the Land. There one’s physical and mental health are tangible, and all is threatened by Lord Foul the Despiser, who desires to destroy the Arch of Time (and, thus, the Earth) and escape his prison. Covenant learns that he is the wielder of the wild magic of white gold, the paradox that both sustains Time and is the only thing capable of destroying it. Initially, Covenant resists belief in the Land (hence his sobriquet of “Unbeliever”) and refuses to actively help the many people who befriend him. But events in the course of the first three books contrive to force him into a confrontation with Lord Foul, where he laughs Despite into irrelevance. With Foul impotent, Covenant finds himself back in our world. In the second Chronicle, Covenant is again translated to the Land along with Linden Avery and finds that in saving it the first time, he unwittingly laid the seeds for Lord Foul’s corruption of the Council of Lords and the abomination of the Sunbane. In order to defeat Foul this time, Covenant and his friends seek the One Tree in order to recreate the Staff of Law (destroyed in the first Chronicle) and (hopefully) restore the Land to health.†† Ultimately, they succeed. Covenant gives Foul his white gold ring, and the Despiser unleashes the power of wild magic. The results are not what Foul desires, however. While Covenant’s physical body is destroyed, he becomes a part of the Arch (hence his other sobriquet of “Timewarden”) and again Foul’s desires are thwarted. The third Chronicle begins 10 years (in our world) after the events of the second. Linden is a doctor at the institution where Covenant’s first wife is immured, driven insane by Lord Foul. She has also adopted Jeremiah, a boy whom Covenant saved from sacrifice to the Despiser in the second Chronicle but who’s suffered such abuse that he’s retreated into his mind and appears unreachable. We also meet Roger Covenant, Thomas’ son by Joan, who’s also been touched by the Despiser and is under the control of a Raver. Eventually, all find themselves translated to the Land. Thousands of years have passed and the Land is ruled by the Masters, Haruchai who have determined that the only way to save it is to keep its inhabitants ignorant of Earthpower and the Lore of the old Lords. They’ve also developed an unhealthy fetish for Covenant that takes its most extreme form in the Humbled - Haruchai who have voluntarily emulated Covenant’s halfhand. In order to save her son, Linden selfishly breaks the Law and restores Covenant to life. In the process she awakens the Worm of the World’s End and grants Lord Foul’s greatest desire – an escape from the Earth.†††

I came across Ben Stroud’s short-story collection on the New shelf at my library a couple of weeks ago. The title caught my eye - Byzantium. I am a byzantinophile to no small degree, and sad indeed are the years 1071, 1204 and 1453 in my eyes*. The titular title does take place in the Eastern Empire on the eve of the Muslim conquest of Syria and Egypt (7^th century AD); however, the rest of the stories range all over and there’s no especially Roman theme to the book. And the rest of the stories are pretty good. There’s a bloodlessness about them, a dispassion, that prevents me from whole-heartedly endorsing Stroud but there are at least two here that I would give four to five stars.

 

• “Byzantium” – A few years before Mohammad’s followers conquer the provinces Heraclius had retaken from the Persians after 30+ years of war, the emperor fears the possible rebellion of a monk with a claim to the throne and sends a young courtier manqué to deal with the problem.

 

• “East Texas Lumber” – This is about a ne’er-do-well slacker drifting through life, working at a lumberyard, bemoaning his lot but doing nothing to break out of his cage. The latter theme – the passivity of people – crops up a lot in these stories.

 

• “The Don’s Cinnamon” – Takes place in pre-Civil War Cuba and concerns a “free gentleman of color” who, not able to find a traditional job, inadvertently becomes a Sherlock Holmes, solving otherwise inexplicable cases.

 

• “Borden’s Meat Biscuit” – Another story set in the pre-Civil War Americas. Central America in this case. The protagonist and narrator is a white entrepreneur trying to make his fortune.

 

• “The Traitor of Zion” – This story is about a dissolute young man who becomes involved with one of the millennial cults that flourished in the U.S. in the first half of the 19^th century.

 

• “Erase” – One of the stories set in the modern era, this one is about an alienated boy.

 

• “At Bequillas” (four stars) – This is one of the two stories that hit me on a visceral level. It recounts a brief episode in the life a failing marriage, and it spoke to my own as I recognized myself in both characters. Particularly in the self-absorption and small hurts we inflict on each other and our refusal to own up to them. Another thing that set this story apart was that Shelly, the wife, acts to change her life.

 

• “Tayopa” – A story about a Mexican official sent to find a legendary Jesuit silver mine.

 

• “Amy” (four stars) – Like “At Bequillas,” this story is about a failing marriage as told from the POV of the husband. This one hit even closer to home than the previous story. Probably – and I say this without pride – because I saw a lot of my (younger) self in the unnamed protagonist.

 

• “The Moor” – An homage to Sherlock Holmes, this story is about an expat African-American who comes to Berlin and quickly makes a name for himself as a solver of unsolvable crimes; he even acquires a Moriarty-like arch-enemy and an “Irene Adler” to spend an all-too-brief time with. (There’s an intimation that the protagonist is the narrator from “The Don’s Cinnamon.”)  It’s also a comment on how “the black man” is viewed by the majority white culture both then and now. And it’s those contrivances that make this story less interesting than it might have been but it’s still well-written and – if you’re a Holmesian – fun.

 

In fact, all of these stories are well-written and interesting but – as I wrote above – most are written without passion. Or without any authorial passion coming through the words. I can recommend this collection with confidence but I don’t think these stories are memorable or that Stroud is a “magician” as the book’s editor notes in his hyperbolic “Introduction.” Stroud might indeed be all that but it’s not evident here.

 

* I refuse to be an enabler. If you want to know why these three years are particularly tragic, LOOK IT UP!

I should begin by saying that I’m going to be grossly unfair and harsh in judging Ian Doescher’s efforts in this book. He comes – at times – to really capturing a Shakespearean flavor and verve but too often appears to believe that he’s channeling the Bard by using “thou” and “prithee” and “anon,” putting verbs at the end of sentences, and stressing past-tense endings (e.g., “banishèd”). That said, this is an enjoyable – if frivolous – diversion, and I would recommend it to the probably-not-quite-as-rare-as-you-might-think Star Wars nerd/Shakespeare geek (or is that “Star Wars geek/Shakespeare nerd”?).

 

Doescher is at his best when he gives the “rude mechanicals” voice like the stormtroopers who are searching Mos Eisley for the droids or – my favorite – an extended conversation between the two soldiers guarding the Millennium Falcon after its captured by the Death Star.

 

In the first place, you’ll remember that Imperial troops are combing Mos Eisley for C-3PO and R2-D2 and one comes to a locked door, saying “It’s locked. Let’s move on.” (or words to that effect) That scene has always bothered me – why are these thugs letting a locked door deter them? It’s not as if Palpatine’s New Order includes a Bill of Rights. Doescher, however, provides some context when the trooper justifies his action with logic worthy of Dogberry in “Much Ado About Nothing”:

 

<blockquote>This door is lock’d. And as my father oft / Hath said, a lockèd door no mischief makes. / So sure am I that, thus, behind this door / Cannot be found the droids for which we search. / And thus may we move on with conscience clear. (III.3, p. 79)</blockquote>

 

In the second place, the tongueless guards from the movie get a chance to voice their thoughts:

 

<blockquote>GUARD 1: Oi! Didst thou hear that sound?

GUARD 2: – Pray, hear a sound?

GUARD 1: Aye, truly – I quite clearly heard a sound.

GUARD 2: Think ears, mayhap, play tricks on thee, my friend.

GUARD 1: Nay,nay. Dost thou not think this strange?

GUARD 2: – What strange?

GUARD 1: The droids did flee the ship we have attack’d, / And unto Tatooine have gone by pod. / ‘Tis true, thus far?

GUARD 2: – I cannot claim ‘tis false.

GUARD 1: On Tatooine they have been tracèd first / To Jawas vile and then to humans –

GUARD 2: – Dead.

GUARD 1: Aye, dead they are – our men did see to it. / But follow on: the boy who with them liv’d / Hath fled, we knew not where, till he was seen / At yon Mos Eisley with the pair of droids.

GUARD 2: Aye, aye, ‘twas all in last week’s briefing. Pray, / What more of this? Hast thou aught new to say?

GUARD 1: That boy and droids together disappear’d / The very hour the ship – this ship – did fly. / And now, the ship is here, though empty seems.

GUARD 2: Nay, empty ‘tis! The scanning crew doth work / E’en now.

GUARD 1: – Which bringeth me full circle to / The sound I just have heard. Is’t possible, / My friend, that boy and droids and revels all / Have flown within this ship unto this base / And yet – e’en now – whilst thou and I do speak, / Still hide within the ship?

GUARD 2: – I am amaz’d!

GUARD 1: Aye, verily? Think’st thou I may be right?

GUARD 2: I said thou hast amaz’d me, and ‘tis true. / But never did I say I think thee right – / Thou dost amaze by thy o’eractive thoughts! / A hidden boy! The droids within! A fig! / Avaunt, thou silly guard, be not so thick. / They great imagination hath o’erwrought / They better senses. Thinkest thou thy pow’rs / Of judgment far exceed our Masters true? / May’st thou outwit the great Darth Vader or / The cunning of our Gov’nor Tarkin? Nay! / We are but simple guards, our purpose here / Is plain and to the point: we have been task’d / To watch the ship and follow all commands, / And not to prattle on with airy thoughts.

GUARD 1: Aye, thou hast spoke a well-consider’d word. / Thou are a friend, as I have e’er maintain’d, / And thou hast spoken truth and calm’d me quite. / The rebels hide herein! What vain conceit! / That e’er they should the Death Star enter – ha!

GUARD 2: It warms my heart to see thee so restor’d / And back to thine own merry, native self.

HAN: [within] Pray, my we have thy good assistance here?

GUARD 1: [to Guard 2:] So, let us go together, friend. Good / cheer!

[Guards 1 and 2 enter ship and are killed. Exeunt others.] (IV.1, pp. 102-4)</blockquote>

 

I also like the fact that Doescher gives the story’s characters moments of introspection that are absent from the movie. Another thing that’s always bothered me about A New Hope is Leia’s lack of reaction to Alderaan’s destruction. In William Shakespeare’s Star Wars, Doescher remedies that with an internal monolog the princess has when she and Luke are sitting despondent in the Falcon after their escape from the Death Star:

 

<blockquote>His heart breaks for a person, Obi-Wan – / My heart breaks for a people, Alderaan. / My ship crush’d first, and now my planet too: / Did e’er a person know such grief as ours? ….

 

My Alderaan I’ve known all my life, / And hold it in my heart in high’st esteem. / So had I hop’d to one day make it home, / When this rebellion all is pass’d away. ….

 

But now I must some other course adopt / And write my life’s own story without them. / My dreams shall not be realiz’d as I wish’d, / Yet may I dream to see some other Fate. ….

 

Thus shall I strive to hold my hands outstretch’d / And be a calming presence to this man. / So I’ll in his deep mourning act my role / And show him what a comfort friends may be. (V.1, pp. 136-7)</blockquote>

 

Elsewhere, Doescher is not quite as successful. I’ll give here but one example – a pastiche of Antony’s funeral speech in Julius Caesar and Henry V’s rallying cry in Henry V – that suffers in comparison with the originals:

 

<blockquote>Friends, rebels, starfighters, lend me your ears. / Wish not we had a single fighter more, / If we are mark’d to die, we are enough / To make our planets proud. But should we win, / We fewer rebels share the greater fame. / We have all sacrific’d unto this cause. / Ye know well the fam’ly I have lost – / My uncle dear and aunt belov’d, aye both, / And then a mentor great, a pow’rful friend. / As massive is the grief I feel for them, / I know full well they’d not have me back down. / The princess hath a planet lost, with friends / And family alike – how great her pain! / And yet as grave as that emotion is, / She knoweth they would have her lead us still. / And ye, ye goodly men and women too, / Ye have all liv’d and lov’d and lost as well, / Your stories are with mine one and the same. / For all of us have known of grief and joy, / And every one has come unto this day / Not so that we may turn our backs and flee, / But that we may a greater courage show, / Both for ourselves and those we left behind. / So let us not wish further ships were here, / And let us not of tiny holes be fear’d – / Why, I have with a T-16 back home / Gone hunting womp rats scarcely larger than / The target we are call’d upon to strike. / And ye, ye brave souls, have your memories / Of your great exploits in your own homelands, / So think on them and let your valor rise, / For with the Force and bravery we win. / O! Great shall be the triumph of that hour / When Empire haughty, vast and powerful / Is fell’d by simple hands of rebels base, / Is shown the might of our good company! / And citizens in Bespin now abed, / Shall think themselves accurs’d they were not here. / For never shall rebellion see a time / More glori’us then our strong attack today! (V.4, pp. 144-5)</blockquote>

 

Alas and alack, if only I had had this 30 years ago when I was in drama club – I would have loved to have performed some of the scenes found herein!

 

In the end, I enjoyed reading this book more than I disenjoyed reading it, and come down from the fence on the side of recommending it.

<i>The Woman Who Died A Lot</i> is the seventh book in the <i>Thursday Next</i> series and proves to be another enjoyable visit to the book-obsessed alternate Earth of Swindon, where the enforcement arm of the Library Service agitates for permission to conduct dawn raids to retrieve overdue books, and all of the Service’s members would die to protect any book in the library (except for “those bloody awful Emperor Zhark novels and anything written by Daphne Farquitt”). There are a number of stories going on in the novel: The Literary Detective division of Special Operations is being reactivated; the demise of the ChronoGuard has left Friday – Thursday’s son – without a purpose in life; Tuesday – Thursday’s brilliant daughter – is trying to perfect her Anti-Smite Shield in time to deflect God’s Wrath from downtown Swindon; Aornis Hades continues to exact revenge for the death of her brother Acheron; and the odious Goliath Corporation continues to plot to control everything. Above all, however, Thursday struggles with middle age and the terrifying idea that her best days are behind her.

 

You need to read the previous novels before tackling this one but if you’ve enjoyed the earlier books, you’ll like this one, so it’s a strong thumb’s up for series fans; and I would recommend the entire run for someone looking for reasonably intelligent, literature-themed brain candy with just enough <i>gravitas</i> to make you care about the characters.

 

Though they’re horribly dated (esp. in terms of the female characters), I guardedly recommend L. Sprague de Camp’s and Fletcher Pratt’s The Complete Compleat Enchanter, a collection of the authors’ <i>Harold Shea</i> stories, which also play with the idea of real-world characters reading themselves into fictional worlds.

This is a combined review of the three books in the Mistborn trilogy.

 

I read the first book in the series, The Final Empire, in 2008 – a little over five years ago – and remember liking it enough (I gave it 3 stars) to put the next two on my To-Read shelf. But it should be obvious that I wasn’t overly impressed with it. Of the many Sanderson titles available at the time, I was drawn to this one from the premise – What would follow if the Chosen One failed and the bad guy won?

 

In the case of Mistborn it’s the thousand-year reign of the Lord Ruler.

 

Book one is the story of the rebellion that brings down the Lord Ruler’s regime, and introduces us to the series’ main characters – Vin, a cruelly abused street urchin who can burn all the metals of Allomancy, and Elend, son of an abusive noble father and an idealist who dreams of building a better, more egalitarian society. Book two, The Well of Ascension, recounts the quest to discover the location of the titular Well so that Vin can assume its power and bring an end to the Ashfall and the Mists that continue to plague the land. It’s also about Elend’s struggle to create a viable society and government in the wake of the empire’s collapse. The Hero of Ages has Vin and Elend dealing with the unexpectedly dire consequences of finding the Well in book two.

 

I have to admit that getting through Well was a chore, and I only made it 250 or so pages into Hero before I gave up. Complaint number one with Sanderson is that there were far too many stretches in these books that were downright boring. When he’s advancing the plot or choreographing a fight scene, Sanderson is an engaging and good writer but he gets carried away with unnecessary exposition. Ben’s review of The Final Empire mentions Vin’s development as a character and it’s probably that that gives that book my three stars but the sequels feel “obese,” they both could afford to lose several hundred pounds pages. A second complaint is that – outside of Final – none of the characters engaged me. I didn’t care what happened to them. My third dissatisfaction with the series is that there’s no “magic” in the writing. Certainly Allomancy, Feruchemy and Hemalurgy are interesting magic systems but their functioning is dissected and laid out like a lab specimen, killing the animal and depriving us of the mystery of fantasy. And the prose, while plain and direct, is flat. I remember thinking about the Ashfall and the Mist in The Final Empire. I never quite felt the experience of living in a world where ash fell from the sky as often as rain, the sun was a bloated red giant, and the Mists had blocked the night sky for so long people had forgotten what stars were. I’ll give the last words to Ursula Le Guin, to whose essay “From Elfland to Poughkeepsie” I often return to remind me of what I look for in fantasy and why I read it:

 

Now the kind of writing I am attacking, the Poughkeepsie style of fantasy, is also written in a plain and apparently direct prose. Does that make it equal to Tolkien’s? Alas, no. It is a fake plainness. It is not really simple, but flat. It is not really clear, but inexact. Its directness is specious. Its sensory cues – extremely important in imaginative writing – are vague and generalized; the rocks, the wind, the trees are not there, are not felt; the scenery is cardboard, or plastic. The tone as a whole is profoundly inappropriate to the subject….

 

A fantasy is a journey. It is a journey into the subconscious mind, just as psychoanalysis is. Like psychoanalysis, it can be dangerous; and it will change you [emphasis UKL’s]

Daniells’ Besieged is the first book in a trilogy about the fate of the T’En (known to humans as the Wyrd), a race of near-humans blessed (cursed) with “gifts.” For three centuries there’s been an uneasy truce between them and humans. The T’En and the half-human/half-T’En Malaunje are confined to an island city, isolated estates and ghettos in select cities; T’En and Malaunje babies born to human women (which happens even if both parents are human) are given over to the T’En. That custom (and truce stipulation) is broken when King Charald’s queen bears a half-Malaunje child, and Oskane, the high priest of the Father, sees an opportunity to raise an assassin who can infiltrate T’En society and help bring about a “final solution” to the Wyrd problem. I use the term “final solution” fully aware of the connotation it should bring up with Nazis and Jews. I don’t know if Daniells wants to draw a parallel between Christian Europe and the Jews and Father-worshiping Chalcedonia and the T’En but it’s certainly there; and I can’t believe Daniells is unaware of it. For example, the event that sets Charald off on a final crusade against the T’En is when a delegation approaches him about repaying the loans the Wyrd had given him in the early days of his kingdom when he needed money to consolidate the throne. Compare this to similar situations medieval kings faced when they borrowed heavily from Jewish bankers. Or there’s the character of Charald, who becomes more and more Hitler-like as the story progresses.

 

T’En society is little better. For centuries they’ve lived in an increasingly dysfunctional society where men and women have been segregated into brother- and sisterhoods, ostensibly to protect the women from the uncontrolled gifts and aggression of the men. But the system has simply reinforced that aggression and has led to a dangerous imbalance between the two. The unexpected, and concealable, birth of a full T’En baby girl – Imoshen – to Rohaayel provides him with an opportunity to blow apart the centuries-old covenant and reassert what he considers a more proper relationship with the women.

 

Both his and Oskane’s plans fall apart when their two protégés grow up, and begin to think and act for themselves.

 

I’m giving this book a weak three-stars; it’s a 2.75/2.8 rounded up. The writing is usually good but there are sections that read awkwardly. They needed another draft to tighten up the writing. (The clearest example is the transition from part one to part two. I almost thought I was reading another, less competent author for the first few chapters.) Daniells joins those authors who write well enough that I can enjoy reading them but in this case I’m not captured by the story or characters sufficiently to care to seek out the next chapter in the saga.

Another enjoyable entry in the author's Ruso series.

Ruso is back with the XX Legion in Britain and has decided to make an inspection tour of the legion's medical facilities so as to avoid crossing paths with the Emperor's retinue. In the wake of the recent troubles, Hadrian has come to the island to supervise the building of the Wall and settle the VI Legion there as reinforcements. While in Eboracum (York), he stumbles across several mysterious deaths and injuries amongst the British recruits and soon finds himself and Tilla embroiled in a messy situation involving a bigoted, sadistic centurion; his nephew, the ambitious tribune; and the Imperial household (because, inevitably, Ruso does cross paths with the Emperor).

As with the first four novels in the series, Semper Fidelis is a quick enjoyable read with just enough gravitas to make it memorable.

The only caveat is the new character of Virana, whose dimwittedness is almost too dim to be believable. Hopefully, she won't descend too far into slapstick in future books (as she's become a member of the Ruso household).

The good things about this book: I like the idea behind the Order of Deacons – an areligious order of monkish types (the only traditional vow I think you could argue they take is the one of obedience; definitely not chastity) – sworn to keep the barrier between the living and the dead whole. I like the ontological underpinnings of the Otherside, though they’re only hinted at in this first novel of the series. I like the character of Sorcha Faris – mostly.

Why only two stars?: One of the novel’s blurbs says “[o]ne of the most vividly original books I’ve read this year.” But it isn’t (or, if it is, then the blurber must have had a sorely disappointing year). There’s no story or character here that I haven’t encountered before: The oddball pair up of experienced partner and novice; the inevitable, passionate love affair between male and female protagonists; the family curse; the corrupted institution; the evil demon lord who wants to manifest in our world; the deus ex machina (or dea in this case); even the faithful gruff retainer.

Alas.

Familiarity does not necessarily breed contempt, though. There’s nothing wrong with following the traditional fantasy formula if the storytelling works but – for me – it didn’t. Ballantine’s writing is annoying and intrusive and sometimes, simply bad, constantly throwing me out of the reading experience. For example, the setting is a world reminiscent of late 18th/early 19th century Europe (particularly Russia as there’s a definite Slavic flavor to many names – Kolya, Rossin, the Murashev – but not overly so) yet the characters speak in 21st century idioms. The writing itself is awkward and clumsy; she actually writes “incredibly seriously” at one point. And can we please ban the use of “wryly” to describe any action, at least more than once per novel?

Beyond that there’s no effort to establish character. We’re told that Sorcha’s marriage to Kolya is mostly dead but there’s no attempt to create the context that would give it emotional depth. Thus, when Sorcha – our heroine – falls for Raed Rossin – our hero – so passionately (as we’re told) it’s not believable that she’s starving for a lover. We’re faced with the same flatness in the relationship between Sorcha – the experienced Deacon – and Merrick – the novice. Almost immediately, they are working together like a well coordinated team and bantering like an old, married couple. (This despite the fact that Merrick’s father was brutally slain when Merrick was a child because of a mistake the young, inexperienced Deacon Sorcha Faris made.)

The story – the “mystery” – is a mystery only for about two chapters. If you can’t see who the bad guys are or who the abovementioned dea ex machina is then you’re a novice reader or you’re not paying attention.

Recommended?: No. I can’t recommend this book. It’s not such a horrible read that you want to gouge your eyes out but if you’re going to test the waters, check it out of the library or borrow it from a friend. If the writing weren’t so annoying and the story so mediocre or there’d been stronger character building, I would be more enthusiastic but the book didn’t quite measure up to what I had been hoping for.

Last Christmas (2012), I purchased seven of the first eight Witch World novels (at my local, still-in-business-as-of-August-2013 used book store) and have endeavored to read them in the subsequent months. I finished the final four in the last month and have been offering brief reviews anent what I enjoyed about them (with the mild criticism lodged here and there). Zarsthor’s Bane was the last book in the pile and – for my money – the weakest, which is why I only gave it two stars. In comparison to [b:Year of the Unicorn|7695111|Year of the Unicorn (Witch World Series 2, High Hallack Cycle, #1)|Andre Norton|http://d202m5krfqbpi5.cloudfront.net/books/1265346188s/7695111.jpg|2561230] and its companion volumes it was colorless – Norton-by-the-numbers.

Perhaps, though, I was burned out on the author by this point. Were I to come to Bane fresh, after a hiatus, I could be more positive.

So, in light of that, I’m going to recommend the novel to Norton fans, if not to the general public. For the Norton tyro, this is not the book to start with. That would remain – in my opinion – the original [b:Witch World|15840375|Witch World (Book 1)|Andre Norton|http://d202m5krfqbpi5.cloudfront.net/books/1345591698s/15840375.jpg|1171819] (still the best of the series) or, if you prefer SF, one of the Solar Queen books. (And here’s a nostalgic shout out to older D&D’ers for [b:Quag Keep|2327288|Quag Keep |Andre Norton|http://d202m5krfqbpi5.cloudfront.net/books/1204860904s/2327288.jpg|648356]. Its sequel, by Jean Rabe, is awful but Norton’s original vision is still interesting and still cries out for a well-written continuation – if I had the guts, the willpower and the patience, maybe I’d try my hand at it. But I don’t so this is a plea for someone, anyone to bring closure to Milo’s, Naile's, Yevele's and the others' story.)

In Defense of Anarchism is an extended essay that is not so much the titular defense of anarchism as it is an offensive against the moral authority of the state, i.e., that there is a case where the state can command an individual even against that person’s moral beliefs. Since Wolff insists on the total autonomy of the individual, it’s not surprising that he can’t find any polity that can claim the de iure right to compel obedience, with one exception. That exception is the case of a unanimous universal democracy. A condition found only in small groups, and – even there – one that breaks down in a short time.

I’m catching up on a depressingly large backlog of reviews and I don’t want to devote a lot of time to this so I offer up the notes I took while reading, which may interest readers sufficiently that they will read the book themselves:

• holds out possibility of such a state because social and political conventions are manmade, not natural, and some genius could someday create the conditions where individual and state were reconciled

• I think the issue is unresolvable. We can aim for an ideal – the least amount of coercive authority and the greatest amount of individual autonomy* – but we must recognize that we’ll only achieve an approximation. We should strive for a society that can best handle that constantly moving target.

• Whatever legitimacy a state possesses comes from its ability to promote the welfare of all its citizens and provide opportunity for them to influence its policies. If power is concentrated in the few or the one, then a state has little or no legitimate authority.

* And this point is not universally accepted. A Neo-Confucian, for example, would be appalled at the idea of individual autonomy (at least as conceived by myself or Wolff). And even in the Western democracies there are far too many (IMO) who would grant the state enormous coercive and intrusive powers.

Trey of Swords returns to the original setting of the series: Estcarp and Escore. Prior to the events in this novel, the children of Jaelithe and Simon Tregarth broke the geas which had blinded the Old Race to the existence of their homeland Escore to the East. With the geas broken, however, the Old Race has begun to return. Yonan and Crytha are members of one of these households. The first two sections of this book (“Sword of Ice” and “Sword of Lost Battles”) deal with Yonan’s struggle to control the Sword of Ice and alter the past so that an ancient battle would end in victory for the Light. The third section, “Sword of Shadow” recounts Crytha’s battle against Laidan, a witch who attempts to thwart Yonan.

This is another decent entry in the Witch World saga (see my reviews of Year of the Unicorn and Spell of the Witch World), though it still doesn’t recapture the “coolness” of the first book. The first two sections are standard Norton, which – for those who haven’t read my other reviews – feature alienated youths, life quests, and both physical and mental struggles against the Dark. Yonan is a perfectly adequate hero but hardly distinguishable from many of Norton’s other protagonists (especially if you’ve been reading a string of the author’s novels, as I have). What set this particular entry in the series apart from the rest is the resolution of Crytha’s story. Avoiding spoilers, I’ll say that it’s a twist on the traditional Norton ending that I found refreshing.

Recommended for Witch World fans.

The cover blurb of my copy of Spell of the Witch World is deceptive. After three paragraphs of effusive – but general – praise and comparison to Tolkien, the final one explains “[h]ere you will meet the twins, Elys, the witch-sister, and Elyn, the warrior-brother – and the pact that drew both into perils beyond the laws of our everyday stars.” Leaving aside the over-the-top rhetoric, the deception lies in the fact that Spell comprises three novellas – “Dragon Scale Silver” (where we meet the twins), “Dream Smith” and “Amber out of Quayth” – connected only by their Witch World setting.

Elys and Elyn of “Dragon Scale Silver” are the children of Estcarp refugees who washed up on the shores of High Hallack and found refuge in a fishing village. When Alizon invades some years later (after the twins’ parents have died), Elyn goes off to fight them, and Elys flees with the other villagers to hoped-for havens inland. Through her witching abilities and aided by the village’s wise-woman and Jervon, a wounded soldier who’s sought succor with the refugees, Elys learns that her brother has been ensnared by an ancient curse and she’s the only one who can rescue him. It’s a well told if formulaic entry in the Witch World oeuvre. What puts it a bit above average is the ending, where Elys learns what her brother really thinks of her.

“Dream Smith” is a departure from other works of the author that I’ve read. I would describe Norton’s typical prose as “concrete” but here it reads closer to a traditional fairy tale. It’s the tale of Collard, a young smith horribly disfigured in an accident, and Jacinda, a young girl equally marred. They find the usual happy ending in a dream world he creates. Again, well told but not overly memorable.

“Amber out of Quayth” is the best story of the three. Ysmay is the sister of Gyrerd, who returns from the Alizon wars with a new wife, who displaces Ysmay as lady of the hold. Faced with a lifetime of drudgery under her brother’s wife or retiring to an abbey, Ysmay fair leaps at the chance to marry Hylle, a stranger from the North. I could draw a parallel with “Bluebeard,” though the specific danger to Ysmay was not the same. Regardless, Ysmay soon learns that it’s not a “good thing” to be Hylle’s wife when she finds herself in a battle for body and soul. I enjoyed this one the most because of Ysmay’s character. She was more fully developed than Elys in “Dragon Scale Silver,” who is one of Norton’s stock characters, hardly distinguishable from a large cast of alienated youths searching for their lives’ meanings. Granted, Ysmay too is part of that company but her personality and trials stood out for me. I had a greater affinity with her particular plight than Elys’.

Recommendation? As with my review of Year of the Unicorn, this is a “read” for Norton fans, a credible addition to Witch World lore. For the general SF audience – if you’re in the library or at a bargain-book table and you’re looking for something comfortable and untaxing to distract you from global climate change, you could do worse.

Year of the Unicorn is a typical Norton set up: An outsider is forced to make a journey where she discovers hidden abilities, overcomes threats to life and personal integrity, and ends up with the promise of a new life.

Unicorn takes us from the Witch World’s original setting in Estcarp/Escore across the seas to High Hallack, inhabited by a fair-haired race of humans who deeply mistrust witchcraft and studiously avoid the sites of magic scattered across their dales. Our hero is Gillan, a young woman who survived shipwreck as an infant and now endures a life immured in Abbey Norstead (it’s not a bad life, but it’s a very limited one). From her physical description – dark haired, fair skinned and thin – readers of Norton’s other Witch World novels will immediately recognize her as one of the Old Race. This means, of course, that she has some measure of Talent and sensitivity to uses of Power.

High Hallack has just thrown back an invasion from Alizon, the kingdom that lies north of Estcarp. But the country suffered greatly and the only way the Dalesmen could defeat their enemies was by allying with the Were Riders of the Wastes. The price was 13 maidens who would become the Riders’ brides. The bridal party passes through Abbey Norstead on its way to the Riders, and though Gillan is not one of the maidens she contrives to take one’s place (with the tacit approval of the nuns, who do not trust her foreignness) and sets out with the party to meet their new husbands.

The Riders have set up a glamor where the girls are attracted to the cloaks of the men best suited to them. Gillian’s senses let her see through the illusion but she’s nevertheless drawn to one particular mantle and so meets Herrel. Like her, Herrel is an outsider amongst the Riders as his mother was a fully human woman and Hyron, his father and leader of the pack, barely acknowledges him. Worse, if anyone else realizes who and what Gillan is, she may very well be killed; the Riders what brides and mothers of future sons, not woman who might rival them in Power.

Gillan’s identity is uncovered eventually; and Halse, the novel’s chief villain and a thoroughly unlikable and vindictive one, puts her soul at risk in an effort to eliminate her threat. (With the willing connivance of the other Riders. While the Riders aren’t corrupted by the Shadow, they are not exemplars of virtue. A fact that makes them one of the more interesting antagonists from a Norton story.)

This is one of the better Witch World novels. For one thing, Gillan is an interesting protagonist and engages the reader’s sympathy. She’s intelligent, resourceful and strong willed. This latter trait is important in Norton’s work. The author always challenges her heroes with threats to their personal integrity – their souls. And the worst thing that anyone in Norton’s moral universe can do is invade someone’s mind and force her to do things against her will. Another plus is that the author manages to create real tension. You know Gillan and Herrel will prevail in the end but you don’t know how far Norton will let Halse go before they do. She can be pretty brutal to her heroes. A third thing I liked about the novel were the Were Riders. As I mentioned above, they’re not evil men but their goals are so far removed from Gillan’s that the two can’t help but clash. Their deceptions anent the brides is inexcusable but they don’t intend to harm the women; they want to keep them pacified and unthreatening.

I’ll wrap up with a recommendation to “read” if Andre Norton is your cup of tea.