_Memories of Ice: A Tale of the Malazan Book of the Fallen_
Steve Erikson, 2001
Two Line Summary: It's still a Glen Cook/Robert Jordan hybrid, but the themes that are uniquely Erikson's shine through.
Quick rating: Very good, but not *quite* as gripping as _Deadhouse Gates_, the previous installment of the series.
This is the third of the ten projected Tales of the Malazan Book of the Fallen, which I have been reviewing at odd intervals over the past few ears. Earlier reviews can be found, in order, here. (I'm also going to ressurect those and transfer them to the blog, since I'm thinking about it, along with this review.)
_Gardens of the Moon_ on Google and this blog.
_Deadhouse Gates_ on Google and this blog
It's generally difficult to write a meaningful review of the third book in a mega-multibook series, but I shall soldier on. In this case, it's made a little easier in that Erikson is continuing to tell stories that reach a natural ending point, even though they are clearly part of a larger overall story arc.
This first book in the series detailed the unfortunate exploits of the celebrated Bridgeburner company of soldiers, in service to the Malazan Empire; the second skipped a continent away to detail events (seemingly) only loosely related. This third volume takes up directly after the events of the first book, with the original characters who had been betrayed by their own empress. These battered Bridgeburners, and the larger legion to which they had been attached, are now outlawed in the Empire, but have joined forces with their previous enemies against a new and growing threat. The footsoldiers are left wondering just how much of this new alliance had been planned in advance, and if so, why.
It is a rather convoluted tale, in the end. After all, this installment alone weighs in at about 900 pages, and is the third volume of roughly that size. The politics of the empire are... Byzantine, to say the least, and the world Erikson has created is lush and densely populated with items and characters of Power, to say the least. However, one of my original laments of the first book is that this density made understanding the action hardgoing, in some places. The second volume reduced that, and by now, all is well. All is not smooth sailling, per se-- the ideas are still dense and the interplay still complex. However, with exposure, we now understand much without needing to have it explained to us.
As an example of the complexity and scope, however, the book starts with two prologues, one which happens one hundred thousand years before the events of the book, and another which starts two hundred thousand years prior to that. Both are directly applicable to the events of the book, and likely to the rest of the books in the series as well.
The central events of this volume, however, focus on the desperate bid of the Bridgeburners and their unlikely allies to put down the spread of a new, inhumanly cruel religious empire to the south, the sort of blood-feasting empire that can only occur in epic fantasy. Institutionalized cannibalization among the army of this empire is, literally, the least of their crimes.
We are treated first to the attempted defense and relief of the Free City of Capustan against these ravening hordes, and then to a counterstrike which attempts to slice the heart out of this burgeoning power. At no point are we spared from the cruelties of war-- characters die in this novel, because war is a bloody business, and it's here that Erikson's central theme comes through:
Perseverance. Determination. The willingness to stand ground and fight even when clearly overmatched if the need is great, the force of will to make your presence felt even if you're taken down in the deal, is what defines morality for Erikson's characters in an otherwise amoral and utterly uncaring world. The greatest of Erikson's characters don't spend their time railing against an amoral world; rather, they resolve then not to trust that cruel world with decisions of importance.
If you're fighting to give meaning to an otherwise meaningless life and world, you're probably a good guy, deep down. If you're fighting to rob others of their meaning, you're a bad guy. It's that simple, but at the same time, that complex.
It's a defiance of fate and circumstance that a modern reader can, I think, find admirable. I do. Thankfully, some of the consequences of obsession and taking this otherwise admirable mindset too far are touched on, and I expect that as the series continues we'll see even more counterpoints.
It's also in this book that, I think, we're given a real look at what the unifying plot arc of the ten book series will be, since the cruel religious empire (the Pannion Domin) appears only to be a puppet of a larger darkness that has been lying in wait for archaeological periods of time. And it is enough, and our understanding of Erikson's world now sufficient, that the title of the next book (_House of Chains_) can't help but elicit an involuntary, "Oh, that can't be good," response.
Worth the shipping price from Amazon.uk.
The next volume is on my shelf, but I can comfortably keep it aside until I have time to concentrate on it later next summer.