_House of Chains: A Tale of the Malazan Book of the Fallen_
Steve Erikson, 2002
Two Line Summary: As always, a Glen Cook/Robert Jordan hybrid, but Erikson has mastered the genre. His main theme continues to progress, as well, not just his storyline.
Quick Rating: Well, God *damn*. But oh, man, this is gong to be a bitch to review positively without giving too much away.
This is the fourth of the ten projected Tales of the Malazan series. I've been reviewing them as I go along. Those who are fairly well along in the series will understand what the phrase "House of Chains" portends, and why it is a grim, grim title. There should be no spoilers here for them.
Those who have not read any of the books may find some spoilers here, but more likely than not they just won't quite know what I'm talking about. On the other hand, the reviews of the earlier books are archived on my blog, and those might make more sense. They're archived in Deja, too, and I'm enough of a completist to have fished the URLs out and poasted them into makeashorterlink.com:
Gardens of the Moon on Google and this blog
Deadhouse Gates on Google and this blog
Memories of Ice on Google and this blog
Now then, long time readers will already know (if they think like I do) that Erikson writes a good yarn, and he plays to his strengths in doing so-- the true sense of wonder in this book, as the rest, is the archaeological scale to the history and the depth of realization. There's really nothing else like it on the market that I can think of.
Long time readers will be pleased to know that this book is no different in its strengths.
_House of Chains_ follows three main threads of story (perhaps two, depending on how you want you tie things off) and a few smaller threads on the side. As is common for Erikson's books, these threads are tightly related each other, and when the volume comes to a close, it closes with a sense of finality: One story, complete in itself, has been told, even though that one story is a part of a much larger epic. It's a knack Erikson has had from the start, and if anything he's getting better at it the series progresses.
The first thread follows the exploits of a young barbarian warrior named Karsa Orlong, and his two companions. Karsa Orlong is not a sympathetic character. For the first hundred pages, he was so annoyingly bloodthirsty and narrowminded that I simply wanted him to die and be out of my misery so that we could get to the good stuff. To his very great credit, though, Erikson works enough of a transformation on Karsa Orlong to keep my attention. More: although he's never a sympathetic character (not even close, really) he becomes more and more compelling as the book continues. The world is larger than Karsa Orlong, and large enough by far to offer him a choice between losing his narrowmindedness, and losing his sanity and his life.
Very skillfully written.
The second and third threads follow directly in the wake of _Deadhouse Gates_ and the vastly moving tale of the Chain of Dogs. One of these threads is that of Tavore Ganoes, eldest of her siblings, and Adjunct of the Empress Laseen, sent to that wake to set right what has been made wrong. She is in one of the worst situations imaginable-- she is relatively young, new to her station, untested and indeed unknown as a battlecommander, and leading a corps of men shattered by events of the recent past.
The other is that of Felisin Ganoes, youngest of her siblings, now called Sha'ik, and a Prophetess of sorts of the Whirlwind Goddess who holds the sands of the holy desert Raraku. Where Tavore has with her the remnants of a former army, Sha'ik has with her a very strong army with a capable and proven leader... as well as a great number of followers, many of the powerful mages in their own right, and with their own hidden agendas. A position of power, but in a viper's nest.
Clearly, they fight.
And a minor thread I feel compelled to mention is that of a T'lann Imass renegade and a Tiste Edur renegade who come to travel together. I'm compelled to mention it because it's terribly important to the ending of the book, though I didn't understand why until the last fifty pages or so, and couldn't begin to express it without spoiling the whole thing.
The second and third plot threads are written... differently than Karsa Orlong's. Differently from the Chain of Dogs sequence in _Deadhouse Gates_, as well. The climax in those threads is less the final battle itself, as it is the revelations about the history of Raraku it brings along with it. It's a strange thing, when the revelation of history, geography and archaeology brings a bigger gut-punch and "Oh, *damn!*" sensation than a pitched, climactic battle.
But there it is.
Is _House of Chains_ better than _Deadhouse Gates_? No, not in my opinion. A little more polished, significantly better plotted, because of the way all the threads come together at the end. No characteristically bad Eriksonian love themes. But the fate of Coltaine in _Deadhouse Gates_ is just plain more gripping than the fate of Felisin and Tavore in _House of Chains_. You'd have to work very very hard to do otherwise, though.
The very good thing about this book, especially as part of the overall series, is the continuing and now evolving theme. The first three books (the second and third, especially) have been fairly strident in a message that I think is worth sending-- the nature of duty, of honor, of doing what you need to do when you're neck deep in shit and you're sure it's only going to get deeper. You do what you need to do, and keep on keepin' on.
Better, though, _House of Chains_ doesn't just send that message again. Much as I think it's a good message, I think I'd get bored after ten rounds at seven hundred pages each. This one deepens the message to what happens when you fail. What does it *mean* to fail? What does it mean to fail so badly you're broken, in mind, body or spirit? Like the earlier message, this one runs through the entire world. It's not important just for the little guys, or even the mortals as a whole. The Malazan world is so constructed that the answers to those questions affects the gods, and the world itself, as well.
They're dark, dark books.
But somehow, I can't walk away from them without feeling a little hopeful.
_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.
_Deadhouse Gates: A Tale of the Malazan Book of the Fallen_
Steve Erikson, 2000
Two Line Summary: This continues to be a cross between Jordan's Wheel of Time and Glen Cook's Black Company series. It's in my opinion, stronger than the last and a bit more polished.
Quick Rating: Good doorstop fantasy. Very good.
This is the second of the ten projected tales of the Malazan Book of the Fallen. In 2001, I wrote a review of the first, _Gardens of the Moon_, which yet resides on Deja's servers on Google, and on this blog.
_Deadhouse Gates_ is the second in the series, and in a very refreshing change of pace from the current trend in doorstop fantasy, this volume also reaches a natural conclusion to its narrative. I wouldn't go so far as to say that _Deadhouse Gates_ could be read without having read _Gardens of the Moon_ first. However, one can read the first without having the second, and not reach a cliffhanger ending. Likewise, one can read the second without immediately needing to go out and find the third.
This is nice because, while the third volume arrived by mail today, I've had enough of the Malazan Empire for a while and I'm going to read other stuff for a while.
That said, _Deadhouse Gates_ obviously takes place against the same backdrop of chaos and confusion at the fringes of the Malazn Empire as does the first volume. But it does so some 1500 leagues awaye, on an entirely different continent, with a mostly new cast of characters. And at almost 700 pages in trade paperback with a good four or five stories running through it, that's a big cast of new characters.
The political background event of the book is an uprising of the Seven Cities against the Malazan Empire; the metaphysical background event is a seemingly instinctive gathering of powerful sorcerous shapeshifters in the same general area for something called the Path of Hands. The moral background events are... betrayal, desperation, futility, and perseverence in the face thereof, I guess.
It's a grim book.
From there, the storylines multiply. There are at least four major storylines maintained through the narrative, and though the capsule, largely spoilerless summaries below don't make it clear, they are all inter-related. Just how would in some cases constitute spoilers.. in other cases, one simply knows they're connected, but isn't sure how... yet.
To my mind, the best and most compelling of the storylines is that of Fist (ie, "General") Coltaine leading a growing band of thousands, then tens of thousands of refugees from this uprising on a desperate trek of hundreds of miles towards the nearest city that they *hope* might still house friendly forces... as chronicled by an old soldier turned historian. That the band of refugees becomes known as Coltaine's Chain of Dogs should indicate the general tone of the book.
There is also the tale of Felisin Paran, a young noble girl and little sister of the Paran we knew in the first book, and Heboric, an old priest turned historian, as they are sold into slavery as part of a political purge in the Empire and subsequently escape in events connected to the Seven Cities uprising. Felisin, I should note, becomes one of the most repulsive focus characters of my recent memory, always skirting that delicate edge where she might become to repellent to read about... but never quite.
There is the continuing tale of Kalam and Fiddler of the first books, on a long, convoluted plot to carry out an impossible but to their minds infinitely deserving assassination.
Finally, there is the tale of Icarium the Jaghut and Mappo the Trell, drawn directly into the confluence of the Path of Hands, though Icarium struggles with an incomplete set of memories and does not know why.
In my review of the first volume, I listed the complexity of the background-- especially the number of non-human races wandering around, and the metaphysical background of gods, ascendants, demons and what-not else-- as something I couldn't pin down as a weakness or a strength.
I'll now revise my opinion and split the difference-- it's both. On the plus side, coming in with *some* basic understanding of, say, the Jaghut and T'lan Imass (two near mythical races, both of the Four Founding Races) some things made a lot more sense in this novel. And there are some revelations that got me to sit back with a real sense of wonder at the archaeological depth of the Malazan world. This is good.
On the other hand, one might have read my above summary and asked, "What's a Trell?" Well, I can't really give an adequate answer to that. It's at least two hundred pages in before I saw the first even vague physical description of Mappo, unless I missed one, and I couldn't decide if he was supposed to be four feet tall, or nine feet tall. And I don't think it would detract much at all for a simple expository chunk on the critters, either. This is bad.
On balance, though, that tendency to obfuscate things has improved from the first volume. It helps that some things really are cleared up in the narrative-- the natures of the Ascendants is made more clear (both in general, and in a few specifics) and some of the racial relations are clarified as well.
There *are* still mysteries to the background, and a few actions and events that left me wondering why they happened, but I am much more confident now that by the time the series is over, they will make sense. I can accept this.
The general pace and style of the writing has improved, as well. The first book took at least three or four hundred pages to really start making sense, much less rolling with any speed. By contrast, _Deadhouse Gates_ didn't quite hook me instantly, but by fifty pages in I knew I wasn't going to have to struggle to finish it.
There are a number of very good, very poignant scenes in the book, too, especially toward the end of the book. The one I'm most comfortable mentioning as not being a spoiler anyone will understand until they get there is the revelation of the nature of Hood, the Lord of Death.
Recommended, if you like doorstop fantasy, or Glen Cook, or if long, grim, interweaving narratives in a complex background world sound interesting. While reading this, I ordered the third volume (which ironically arrived today) and noted the estimated release date of the fourth later this year.
_Gardens of the Moon: A Tale of the Malazan Book of the Fallen_
Steven Erikson, 1999
Two line summary: Jordan's _Wheel of Time_ meets Cook's _Black Company_. If you lied either, or both, it's worth at least checking the back of the cover, on this one.
Quick rating: Good enough to get me to read 700 pages in paperback.
There are no spoilers here:
This is one of those books I seem to have been reading forever. It is a big horse-choker of a paperback. Including the glossary at the end (which I found myself flipping to quite often along the way) this is 712 pages of solid text, and it is not one of the easiest books I've read lately. Add to that that I've been incredibly busy over the last few months and took the occasional side trip into Brust or Zelazny, and.... well, I don't remember when I bought this, but it feels like I've been reading it for months.
A synopsis is pretty hard to write, but I'll give it a try anyway. There is a big ol' empire called the Malazan Empire. It is ruled by one Empress Laseen whom, as far as one can tell from this book, is most of the Roman Emperor and the occasional Mongol Khan rolled up into one quivering mass. She would basically like to own everything.
She is not a major character, but it is in this backdrop of conquest (apparently for its own sake) that the story is set. We follow, roughly, the exploits of the Empire near two cities (Pale and Darujhistan) in lands far removed from the Imperial center. From there it gets... complicated, as we're told a story through a cast of a bunch of characters-- loyal imperial agents, disloyal imperial agents, and foes of the empire (some of whom think they are neutral parties.)
Everyone has an opinion about the Malazan Empire, from the thieves of Darujhistan right up to the gods themselves, and everyone takes part.
It takes a good long while for Erikson to really hit his stride with all these characters, and begin to show how the various threads that he sets up all fall together in the end.
But, in the end, we do see the immediate success/failure of those campaigns, and so the book is fairly self-contained, even if there are multiple further volumes planned.
What's good: If you like big, sprawling, epic stories with worlds that seem to be realized at some level other than the raw plot device, the macguffin, or the "This needs to happen, so it happens," level, then _Gardens of the Moon_ has that.
If Tolkien had a depth of mythic history, and Jordan has a depth of political history, then Erikson has a depth of archaeological history to his world. Other reviews point out that his history stretches back some three hundred thousand years. This is true, but it is an archaeological history more than a political history.
Erikson has you covered on the literal "big sprawling" aspect, as this is book one of a total of ten.
If you like dirty politics and political wrangling, _Gardens of the Moon_ has you covered there, too. There are political plots hatching and counter-hatching both on the Empire side of the things, and among their enemies. Both of these are integral to the overall plot of the book, as well.
And it's in the political wrangling that the similarities to the _Black Company_ books show through as well, since one major group of characters are the members of the Bridgeburners, an elite squad of Malazan soldiers who have fallen on hard times, and whom the Empire would seemingly like to see destroyed.
Similarities to the _Black Company_ show through in the overall tone of the book, too-- make no mistake, these books are grim. We see several carnages along the way, and we aren't shielded from them. Likewise, the political scheming from above and below. There are a few more similarities, but I'd consider them spoilers, so I won't reveal them.
Overall, it's a very dark shade of grey all through the novel.
What's bad: It's meant to be a strength, and Erikson clearly considers it a strength, but the story really does start out in the middle of a figurative dead run; it doesn't slow down from there; and it rarely takes the time (in the first half, anyway) for a nice chunk of expository explanation.
Worse, He has a tendency to introduce one group of characters, stay with them just long enough to make you feel like your feet are grounded with them and you can start to understand where they came from and why they're doing what they're doing... and then, wham, you've got a new group to deal with.
Even more, I swear that for every narrative character who _is_ what he first seems to be, there are two more who aren't what they seem to be, or at the very least have pretty damn unusual backgrounds, not to be revealed until later.
This makes the book damn tough to get a handle on for several hundred pages, and if this ain't your bag, then you won't like it. It probably contributed to the "I've been reading this since 1997" feeling that I've still got.
It does all start to pull together in the second half, and the last three hundred pages went all in the last two days.
What I'm not sure about: Good grief, but there's a metric boatload of magical power sources, powerful critters and gods walking around, and sources of arcane information. One hopes that Erikson has a better handle on it all than I do.
Magic is handled through "warrens" which are apparently naturally forming sources of power on some other plane, into which mortals and gods can tap, to varying degrees. There's a boatload of them out there (on the order of a dozen) and the human ones are themed (life, death, shadow, etc.) They're not static, either. At least, not in historical terms.
There are gods (or 'ascendants'.) Several of them take an active hand, for reasons of their own. There are critters of power equivalent or greater than the gods, and several of them take part on stage, too. There are Demons, again on the same level of power.
There's a surplus of non-human races, too, but part of that is the price of an archaeological scale of history. And many fo them walk on stage and wave at us, too.
I think for this partiular book, the sheer diversity of magic and non-humans almost counts as a negative, because often the reader is left gasping and trying to figure out who is likely to win a given fight, or what the likely effects are going to be. By the end, I was starting to get it, and I can only hope that in subsequent novels, the learning curve won't be too steep.
All in all, not the easiest book I've read all year.
(This review was originally written in August of 2001, and can also be found here)
Okay, a while ago I mentioned that, despite my workload, (which has decreased, but only slightly, and is due to ramp way up within the next week) courseload, and hobbyload, I still wanted to start playing around with a gameworld design.
Perhaps something in a fantasy geopolitical bent, which is something that's never been done right in my opinion.
Well, this just makes it worse.
Bugger all, where the hell do these people find the time to put together something that large as a hobby?