Book Review: The Left Hand of God by Paul Hoffman

by FantasyFictionWarning: Violence

Don’t run away yet, I promise this is a fantasy novel and not something dogmatic!

The left hand of god is about a boy called Thomas Cale, who was raised in an eerie and violent monastery to become a weapon against the unfaithful. Beaten, humiliated and punished often without warning, Cale is a brutal and unforgiving child, an expert in combat who feels no fear and can predict any move an opponent makes. So when he sees a young girl about to be grotesquely murdered by a redeemer priest, no one is more surprised than Cale when he risks his life to save her. He is forced to go on the run with two other acolytes and the girl, escaping the Sanctuary and making their way across the treacherous scablands to the city of Memphis.

Accused of murder and imprisoned, Cale quickly proves his skill as a warrior and tactician, becoming a vital player in the political battles of Memphis. He falls in love with the Marshal’s daughter, Arbell Swan-neck, embarrasses the pride of the Materazzi army and befriends the out of favour half brother of the Lord Chancellor. His devil may care attitude and dour reticence mean Cale (and his rather unwilling friends) are constantly in trouble, but when Arbell is kidnapped by the Redeemer army it is only Cale who can bring her back alive. But maybe it’s not Arbell that the Redeemers are really after.

This book is gritty, bloody and in some parts so witty that it made me laugh out loud. Richard and I have been discussing pain in fantasy and how some authors (cough Ian Irvine cough) dispense punishments and pains to characters that couldn’t possible survive it. We are fragile creatures after all (And no, I will not be reviewing any of Ian Irvine’s books any time soon, I did read them, but they are far too gory for me).The left hand of god is different – yes, the characters suffer excruciating pain, but only the ones who have been conditioned to harshness (those who grew up in the sanctuary and IdrisPukke who has spent years running, hiding and being shot at) actually survive it.

I also liked the scene where Cale battles Solomon Solomon. As a duel, it’s much more realistic than many I’ve seen, where the author wants to give the character a fluffy, merciful side. Cale has no softness. Even his feelings towards Arbell are tempered with violence, confusion and pain. Cale does not know mercy, because he has never seen it. When he does something, there is always more motivation than just doing the right thing – when he saves Simon from the boys in the yard, it’s more because he hates the boys than because he feels pity for Simon. When he pulls Conn from the battlefield, even Cale cannot say why he’s done it. Even when he rescues Arbell from the Redeemers, he is expecting a hero’s welcome and great recognition on his return. Cale is not a nice boy. He is not honourable or merciful or even good. But he is not bad either.

This book has some horrific moments. If you are at all squeamish, I suggest you miss pages 368 – 372. But if you do read it and decide that such a scene is too horrible to be realistic, I’ll remind you that a nearly identical method was used by Turkish troops during the Armenian genocide to wipe out the entire population of villages – human beings can be just as terrible as anything you’ll find in the left hand of god.

Wikipedia tells me the next book in this series is coming out soon. It’s called The Last Four Things. I’ll probably read it and it will probably haunt me for a few days like this book has. But it’s worth the reading – Paul Hoffman‘s style runs on and on, never stopping and never slowing and when he does backtrack, it’s deftly woven into the storyline so you don’t feel like you’ve lost time or track in going backwards. The violence is unforgiving and the politics are… well, political and if you like that kind of thing then you’ll enjoy it and if you don’t then your eyes will glaze over a little bit like mine did. Same with the battle tactics. Both (politics and battle tactics) are well researched, but not my cup of tea. The only other problem I had with this book are the obvious lines leading to a sequel. I like to be surprised by reapperaing characters in sequels – ones that pop up and you go ‘oh! Wow! I’d completely forgotten about that guy!’ In this story, characters like the boy who survives the village massacre are simply turned loose and you are left thinking ‘gee, I wonder how long before he turns up again’. But apart from these small irks (and it’s mostly me being picky), this book is a good read that is a bit like a car crash – horrific, but you can’t turn away from the page!

437 pages. Published in 2010 by Penguin (Michael Joseph).

PS: I found this, which I think is a really clever way of using visual media to advertise a book.

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rmeDvY7s2F0&w=560&h=349]

Review: A Wise Man’s Fear by Patrick Rothfuss in 2 parts

by Author LoveFantasyFiction

How do you tell if something you are reading is a good series? What criteria do you put on good? What criteria do you put on completely awesome?

My criteria is something along the lines of

a) I try to read it slowly so it lasts longer, but it still only takes 2 days

b) I curse and weep if I have to wait longer than 2 weeks for the next instalment

c) I try to stalk the author on twitter and wonder if they are secretly reading my reviews and smiling a little. Or wanting to marry me. Either or.

So how often does this happen?

Well, it happened the the Liveship traders series by robin hobb, which luckily I only started after she’d finished all three books.

It happened again with Peter Brett’s Demon Trilogy (apparently the painted Man is going to be turned into a movie soon. I hope they do it justice). And it happened with Pamela Freeman’s Casting’s trilogy, ever book that Jacqueline Carey ever wrote and numerous other books. I didn’t want to read The Name of the Wind. Every fantasy fan I knew (and i was working in a bookshop when it was released, so that was lots of people) said it was the most awesome debut novel ever. Usually ‘awesome debut novel’ translates into “good for a first go, but shit compared to anything an experienced writer has written”. But then i got bored and I had a battered reading copy right there and I thought why not.
Next thing I know, i was ignoring customers and reading it under the counter. And at traffic lights on the way home. And while cooking dinner. I ignored my children. I ignored my friends.

The Name of the Wind is an engrossing book. I never wanted it to end, so imagine my shock when the next six months went by and there was no sign of the sequel.
I left the bookshop and had a baby – still no sequel.
I looked in every bookshop and told everyone that the author was an asshole for making me wait so long – still no sequel.
After 3 years, I gave up all hope – and suddenly, there was book 2!

The Wise Man’s Fear jumps you straight back into the story (which after a 3 year hiatus, is starting to blur slightly). And the story jumps and leaps and bounds and drags you along for the ride. Kvothe is still at university, still battling against the nasty Ambrose, dancing around the lovely Denna and attempting to stay one step ahead of the devious moneylender, Devi (excuse the pun, if you would be so kind). He drinks and plays and gets in strife and learns a new trick of two.

The first half of the book builds on the learning Kvothe is doing, as well as developing his character. In such a lengthy and detailed story, it’s hard to keep track of the fact that the guy is still 16. Telling a biography within a story has allowed Rothfuss to remain with Kvothe for the entire book, but it doesn’t get stale seeing everything from one point of view. And it also limits the jumping around that often happens in novels of this size (think Katherine Kerr, J V jones or Robert Jordan) – Kvothe’s tale is told sequentially and if he misses large segments, he at least glosses over them or admits that there is a hole in the timeline.

The second half of the book is more adventurous and Kvothe leaves the university to seek the patronage of the Maer, a rich ruler of superstitious Vinta. Kvothe saves the Maer from poisoning, helps him woo his lady love and then sets off to kill a group of bandits robbing tax collectors on a lonely stretch of highway.
On the way back, Kvothe and his company stumble upon the beautiful but lonely fae Felurian and that is where I will leave it for tonight – more in Part 2!

Review: Naamah’s Curse by Jaqueline Carey

by Author LoveFantasyFictionSex

I waited for this book for what seemed like years (it was about 3 months) and read it the whole way through in bed last night. And then I was cross with myself because the next book will probably be quite a while in coming. I just love Carey’s books. Kushiel’s Dart caught me and captivated me and her writing has only gotten better since then. Naamah’s Curse is the second in Carey’s latest trilogy (maybe a quad? We can hope), which is set a few generations after Sidonie and Imriel’s reign in Terra d’Ange and features a new main character, Moirin. You can read my review of the first book, Naamah’s Kiss here.

Naamah’s Curse explores some new lands and re-visits others. In the beginning, Moirin is still on the trail of Bao, who holds the other half of her soul. After a long, treacherous journey across the Tatar inhabited steppes in winter, Moirin finally catches up with her lost love. But the reunion is not what she’s longed for – Bao is married to the daughter of the leader of the Tartars, the Khan, who captures Moirin and sells her to followers of Jeshua ben Josef. Seeing Moirin torn from Bao, cut off from her magic and force to convert to a harsh religion in a foreign land is gut wrenching. Even when she escapes, the taint of the cruel priest follows her back across the tartar lands and all the way down to the Himalayas. Once again in search of Bao, who is in great danger, Moirin finds her fate has become even more tangled with those she meets along the way. She must defeat the Falconer and his wife, the Spider Queen in order to free Bao and a harem of unwilling consorts, but at what cost to herself? Will her divine gifts be taken from her now, after she fought so long to not surrender them to the Yeshuite god? And will Bao and her ever be free to go home, together?

While Naamah’s Curse still has the greatly detailed and intimate sex scenes that are one of Carey’s trademarks (I suggest a cold shower midway through reading, just to keep you on track), it also examines some of the great issues that have plagued mankind since the beginning. What is belief? Is it a choice? Can faith be thrust upon someone? Can someone change so completely they are unrecognisable? And then, could they change back? While Moirin stays true to her Maghuin Dhonn and loyal to the Bright Lady, Naamah, Carey doesn’t hesitate to delve into Christian dogma and demonstrate that there are good and true and beautiful parts to that religion. What is abhorred, in the book and in real life, is the zealous methods of conversion and the harsh condemnation of those who change differently. This rang very true for me – everyone should be able to believe what they wish to believe, without being forced or threatened or harassed. Each religion has it’s beauty and it’s darkness – the beauty from the divine and the darkness from the fallibility of man who deciphers the divine message. I’ll stick with my ‘An it hurt none, do as you will’ as a creed and I’ll thank you not to even bother printing your religious views and arguments on my blog, but I did want to note that the book gives a fair accounting of a variety of religions, neither condemning nor encouraging one over the other.

Enough religion, lets talk about sex. Carey’s writing is at its best at two points. When she’s asking – through Moirin’s voice – questions about the way people treat each other and why and when she’s making people naked and beautiful. Moirin is definitely not a monogamous character. I can’t actually bring to mind any of Carey’s main characters who are, with the exception of Jocelyn. While some will hum and ha about this, instead it is a thing to be celebrated. A natural act of love, written in beautiful (and never vulgar) prose, is something to be celebrated and cherished and more writers should practise the art of writing believable and gorgeous sex scenes into their fantasy. Hell, into their every day novels! I think this is why Carey’s writing sings to me so – while it’s never boring and there is high fantasy and epic adventure on every second page, what really gets me is the beautiful attitude towards sex and love and worship that Carey gives all her main characters*, often combining all three into a single act. More people should take on this attitude.

I actually think that this series demonstrates Carey’s fulfillment as an author. She really has excelled herself by taking religion, sexuality and travel and weaving it all together into a fantastic high-fantasy adventure which people will enjoy whether or not they stop to think about the bigger issues behind fighting demons and finding your soulmate. Buy the book. Or borrow it from a library/read it on-line and save trees. And while you’re at it, buy me a kindle so I can save trees too. Now I’m off to whinge about the fact that I finished Naamah’s Curse the day I got it and now have to find something else to read this week. Any recommendations? Especially with juicy, well-written sex scenes. Let me know in the comments what you guys have read lately! xx

*Even ones who have been badly treated, like Imriel, are still able to see the divine in the act of sex.

Review: Shadow Prowler by Alexey Pehov

by FantasyFiction

Shadow Prowler was published in Russia in 2002 and only translated this year. I wish they had translated the whole series (from what I can gather, its quite popular in Russia) in one go, because I’m rather hooked and can’t wait to see what happens next. I found this novel on the ‘new books’ shelf at the library and grabbed it – it totally satisfies my cravings for decent, original, fast-paced fantasy and my obsession with anything Russian!

The story is about Harold, a master thief, who is commissioned by the king to sneak into an ancient tomb which has been overrun by an unnamed evil in order to recast the binding spells keeping a vengeful wizard and his rampaging army out of the kingdom. In the meantime, there seems to be a new threat arising in the mysterious Master, who has spies and minions everywhere. Harold sets out with an unlikely bunch of companions – a group of soldiers, magical elves, the kings jester and a long-dead archwizard who only exists inside Harold’s head. When the elves cast a spell in order to help Harold enter the tomb, Harold finds himself reliving memories that don’t belong to him. In order to survive the journey and the task which lays at the end of the road, Harold will have to piece together the puzzles of the past and gather every skill he has ever learned and even perhaps listen to a nonsensical prophecy sung by a tiny green man wearing a jesters bell cap.

It takes a few chapters to get used to how this book is written. It’s in first person but also completely in present tense. While this makes somethings a little hard to follow, it has the advantage of drawing you right into the story. The little flashbacks are put in chapters of their own, in italics, so it’s easy to see how they are separate from the main story, but get interwoven in. the characters are well drawn and the development of Harold and Kli-Kli and the relationship between them is just so rich and intricate, you feel like you have known them for a lot longer than one book. the mythology is fantastic, drawn partially from Russian mythology and partially from Pehov’s brilliant mind. I really can’t wait for the next installment to be translated. Andrew Bromfield has done a fantastic job and the prose is flowing and melodic throughout – I couldn’t even tell it was a translation. Some beautiful little pieces of prose make your heart sing and your mind forget that you’re reading fantasy, not high literature. Even people who don’t appreciate the fantasy genre (get OFF my blog!) will enjoy this tale – while it does have elves and orcs and shamanism, it also has brilliant renderings of tactical battles and gorgeous descriptions of landscapes and a heavy dose of breathtaking adventure.

Review: The Reapers are the Angels by Alden Bell

by FantasyFiction

When I told Richard that I finished this book, he asked if it was any good and the only word I could find to describe it was devastating. And then I sat at the computer for 20 minutes trying to write a review that didn’t include a spoiler. It’s still not coming easy.

This book is set in a post-apocalyptic America where zombies (the shuffling, moaning kind, not the super fast ones) attempt to feast upon the scattered living population while hillbilly mutants distill the zombies into chitin-inducing stimulants. And in the middle, a fifteen year old girl is trying to get redemption for her sins, but that redemption is following too close on her heels for her liking. And if you are not already racing off to beg, borrow or steal your own copy from that brief endorsement, then you are dead to me (with a pencil shoved into your brain via your nostril to make sure you stay that way).

The book has some quirks. Dialogue isn’t contained within quotation marks and at times it’s a little hard to tell if the main character, Temple, is talking to herself, someone else or just inside her own head. The technique adds to the ambiance of the novel however, and is worth taking the time to puzzle through. The speech patterns and dialect of the characters is also peculiar. It is how I imagine people would talk in post apocalyptic America where only the strong and ruthless survived and then spent a little too much time alone with only themselves to talk to. The only inconsistency I found was that Temple is illiterate and was raised in an orphanage and in foster care before setting out on the road, but her speech is peppered with words and ideas far above what you’d expect for her position.

The book is full of lofty ideals slightly twisted by the fact that there are zombies staggering around trying to eat people. Temple believes in God, a god “too big to need the supplication of the puny wanderers of the earth”. She believes in fate and beauty and revenge. And she tries, in her own way to live up to these beliefs, taking the mute Maury across country to find his family despite the fact that it leaves her open to danger. It’s a novel about the hope of humanity in a country fallen to ruin. And at the same time, the book is a judgment on mankind’s ability to fall back onto base instinct. The ‘slugs’ retain enough memory to hold hands, to climb aboard a still-moving carousel, to endlessly repeat actions they made while alive. They are still human, and yet not. They are driven by a hunger which pushing them forward constantly, despite threat or futility. The want to feed. The need for flesh. Mindless and craving.

The book describes my ideal apocalypse, if ever an apocalypse could be considered ideal. Slow moving zombies are only dangerous if you stay still long enough to have them mob you or if they take you by surprise. Temple has her gurkha knife, but there is no shortage of guns and ammunition left by evacuees. And she picks up 6 packs of coke in abandoned corner shops all across the country. If we must suffer a government-released zombie virus that heralds the end of the world, sign me up to be a reaper.