Review of Tchaikovsky’s Dragonfly Falling

Dragonfly Falling

Adrian Tchaikovsky

London: Tor, 2008

ISBN: 9-781529-050288

676 pp.

In the lands of the Apt, the Wasp Empire is on the march. The black and gold armies have a seemingly endless appetite for conquest and they are continuing their campaigns against the lowlands. Inspired by the possibilities of living in a lawless age of aggression, some of the ant city states are willing to expand their own domains and do what they do best, which, as it is stated in the text, is killing other ants. Crucially, ants want Collegium, a city of beetle scientists and artificers where Stenwold Maker, one of our principal heroes, is rallying the defences against what will be a hugely superior army of enormously well-disciplined ants – what one can see, all can see and when one can hear an order then all immediately obey.

Dragonfly Falling is the second in Adrian Tchakiovsky’s Shadows of the Apt series. It has been several years since I read the first one, Empire in Black and Gold but, with the aid of a brief two-page glossary of characters, places and organizations and the skillful prompting of the author, it was as if I had never been away. We are at once immersed in the little band of protagonists who are going to do their best to stop the war or, at least, warn those complacent communities that have become familiar with peace that this time it is all really going to kick off. They include various beetle kinden, fly kinden, moths, mantids and so forth. At some stage in the past, a mysterious and possibly magical event or set of events took place that enabled some of these creepy-crawlies (they are not all insects) to become ascendant, i.e. intelligent, probably human-sized – although this is not clear – and with agency over their own lives. The apt creatures retain some of their previous features: wasps can shoot stinger energy bolts, those with wings can fly to various levels of ability and so forth. However, many others were left behind and are treated as animals, like the draft beetles that appear from time to time. The apt are busy, as might be expected and their technology is coming along apace, with flying machines, rail roads and a rudimentary submarine among their achievements. The result is, in this case, that warfare is entering an industrial age in which it is becoming much more deadly for the participants but has yet to become as devastating for non-combatants as it has become in the real world. It would not surprise me if that changed between now and the end of the ten-book series.

Tchaikovsky is really an excellent writer as well as a somewhat dispiritingly prolific one. In this book, he very deftly expands the action from the first book and hints at what is likely to come in the future. Some characters have started to develop in unexpected ways and display back stories that casts new light on their actions. Some that started out as possible heroes have taken a different path and others who were definitely baddies hint at a possible future form of redemption. This is all managed while a brisk pace is maintained with numerous points of view and locations. I look forward to reading the rest of the series – I had to order this one as it has been a few years since it was published (well, 16) and I imaging I will have to do the same with the rest. Fortunately, Kinokuniya is very efficient in this regard.

If you only plan to read one multi-book series on the lives and times of intelligent insects and assorted other bugs then let this be the one.

John Walsh, Krirk University

Review of Zen Cho’s Spirits Abroad

Spirits Abroad

Zen Cho

London: Tor, 2023

ISBN: 9781035015658

341 pp.

The Malay Chinese world is full of complex but fascinating conjunctions. Many people might be familiar with this phenomenon when it comes to the Nyonya food culture but it is also true of the world of the imagination. There are vampires which feed on human flesh, for example, but they must moderate their appetites so that they can manage their multi-generational family relationships and continue going to school because they understand the importance of education. There are oil-covered doppelgangers preying upon the Malaysian Oxbridge community but they too must navigate the various class and age-based epiphanies with which the other members must contend. There are monsters who, as bad boy communist philosopher Slavoj Zizek observed somewhere, follow us from the old country and latch on to us no matter how we try to escape (in this argument, Zizek equates Dracula with incest but I think we need not explore this too deeply here). The result of this conflation of traditions is a rich seam of magical realism that has been well mined by the author Zen Cho.

I first came across Zen Cho’s work with her delightful novel Sorcerer to the Crown, which I have reviewed elsewhere on this site. In this collection of short stories, all of which have been published previously, although I had not read any of them, she often seems to bring herself into the limelight, often on the cusp of adulthood or else reflecting on that time from a few years thereafter. Generally, there is some dissatisfaction with how the character (who may not be the author after all) has managed the transitions involved and this in itself is a suitable topic for personal horror. When it comes to an association of some kind with the supernatural, it is not surprising that there comes about a combination of the mundane with the fantastic.

Most of the stories were published from 2010-2, although there are some from 2014-5 and even one from 2020, Odette, which has a melancholy feeling of a much stronger nature than others in the collection. It is more common to find a measure of humour in the conflation of mundane and fantastic, as in “The House of he Aunts” and “First National Forum on the Position of Minorities in Malaysia.” Her work is particularly well-served by her ear for dialogue (from The House of the Aunts, p.92):

“’Nanti kena rotan by the discipline teacher then you know,’ said Ah Lee. ‘You know Puan Aminah doesn’t even let us wear coloured watches. Must be black, plain black strap.’ She showed him the watch she was wearing. ‘Metal watch also cannot. Too gaya kanon.’

‘Weh lau,’ said Ridzual.”  

I find this very amusing but then I have become relatively familiar with the way that Malaysian (and Singaporean) people speak in English and I imagine it might be a bit of a barrier for those who do not have such familiarity. However, an open and enquiring mind will surely welcome the chance to expands its horizons.

That the stories have been written over the course of a decade by someone who is still a young author (she was born in 1986, which is scarcely more than being a teenager as far as I am concerned) rather encourages the desire to try to establish some kind of arc of development in the work but I am not sure how much that would be valid here. Some of the stories, for example The Fish Bowl, seem to rely on well-established themes which might be related to youth but that one appeared in 2013, while the seemingly more sophisticated The First Witch of Damansara was first published in 2012. Of course, stories are not necessarily published in the order in which they were written so maybe such speculation is all pointless anyway.

This is a thoroughly enjoyable collection of stories which I would have no hesitation in recommending to anyone. If readers have not had any opportunity to explore the Malay world before, then this is a splendid opportunity to do so. Those who have had the opportunity will surely welcome the chance to learn more. It will also be of interest to readers who just enjoy the kind of genre writing or who are interested in the tensions between modernity and tradition.

John Walsh, Krirk University

Review of Wesley Chu’s The Art of Prophecy

The Art of Prophecy

Wesley Chu

London: Daphne Press, 2023

ISBN: 978-1-83784-005-2

515 pp.

There is a clear and obvious prophecy: a child has been born who will grow up to be a great champion of the land and who will slay the great Khan, the most egregious enemy of the empire. Not only that but the youth has been identified and is safely ensconced within a castle where he is being prepared by the very finest minds of the land for the challenges that will come his way. There are only two problems: first, the very finest minds of the land are a bumbling mob of corrupt hangers-on and, second, the prophecy itself has been invalidated by events on the ground. As a result, the young man, Tian, is required to follow a different path to reach his destiny. This will require him to accompany a diverse and unlikely group of protagonists (they are not heroes, at least according to the evidence of this book, which is the first in The War Arts saga). All of this may be discovered by looking at the back cover so I am not spoiling the book here. Indeed, this does encapsulate the principal events but that thinking that this is the main event is rather to miss the point – this is an extraordinary and undulating adventure in which many of the tropes of the oriental fantasy genre are pleasingly upended. Not the least of these us that the men are all pretty useless and the women are the ones who get things done, from the mature grandmaster Taishi to the fierce warrior Sali to the vicious assassin Qisami. These are all women to fear but also to enjoy.

It is somewhat unusual for fantasy books to have genuinely interesting characters who demonstrate change and development but that is what we are offered here. Fans (self included) of Wesley Chu’s earlier works, including Time Salvager and Time Siege and the various lives and falls of Tao and Io, will have been suspecting as much since those works also had characters who were both amusing and interesting, albeit in a more limited way than has been shown here. They will be delighted to think that this is the first book in a series and that we can hope to be in the company of the characters as they explore the world and seek to achieve agency over it. This first book seems to have set up a path to the future, with a party of four established (more or less) and a sense of the way that the world works such that the contours of the future are beginning to be possible.

Of course, Chu is a dab hand at the outrageous reversal of fortune and this has been evident already. It is quite possible that the plot will lead off in quite a different and unexpected direction.

The story is set in a Wuxia-like background: that is, it follows itinerant martial arts proficient people as they pursue various goals while using superhuman powers of various sorts. There are a number of cool combat-assisting semi-magical effects to enjoy and, presumably, non-human personages to encounter in due course. East Asian sagas tend to be more unruly and topsy-turvy than Western ones, which have a tendency towards the teleological – we all know, for example, that Frodo is going to the mountain in as straight a line as possible, unlike Hanuman, the beloved monkey, who might have some excursions along the way that drag the plot into completely unexpected locations and then back again in the blink of an eye. I would anticipate there being a number of excursions in this unfolding saga and I look forward to following them to the very end.

John Walsh, Krirk University

Review of Susanna Clarke’s Piranesi

Piranesi

Susanna Clarke

London: Bloomsbury, 2021

ISBN: 9-781526-622433

245 pp.

A man of indeterminate age lives in a house of very large and possibly infinite size. He spends much of his time mapping the many rooms he can reach and the numerous statues that inhabit them. It is important to understand the disposition of the rooms because there are periodic floods to be navigated and, besides, it would be easy to get lost in the interior. The man, who has been named Piranesi by the Other, to whom he reports on a weekly basis, keeps meticulous records in a series of journals. His work is never-ending because he must also find the time to catch fish and other seafood to eat and also pay respects to the various sets of human remains that are stored here and there. However, change will come to his life and even the apparently boundless kindness and compassion of the house is going to be challenged.

Piranesi is the second novel by Susanna Clarke, following her triumph with Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell. The debut was published in 2004 and, although a book of short stories appeared in 2006, she has been silent subsequently (from my perspective, at least). I am quite pleased to be writing about someone who is not so feverishly (and often tiresomely) prolific as some of the other authors whose books I have read recently. Besides which, she is 63 and it is only right and fitting that published authors should be older than me.

This is a much more focused book than its predecessor but it contains a lot more depth than is immediately apparent. It has certainly garnered an impressive amount of prizes, including the 2021 Women’s Prize for Fiction and nominations for the Nebula and World Fantasy Awards. The front cover is garnished with admiring blurbs from such luminaries as Madeline Miller, Bernardine Evaristo and David Mitchell and there are many more inside. This success has resulted from a combination of story and prose, which is very nicely captured in the voice of the eponymous protagonist. For example:

“I am not accustomed to Absolute Darkness. There are very few Dark Places in the House; perhaps here and there you will find the Shadowy Corner of an Antechamber or an Angle of the Derelict Halls where the Light is blocked by Debris; but generally, the House is not dark. Even at night the Stars blaze down through the windows (pp.56-7).”

I could have spent more time wandering this House and learning about its various features and quirks and I found that, just as for Piranesi himself, the intrusion of the outside world is a bit shocking. The apparent innocence of our narrator is shown to have been compromised from the beginning and the appeal of remaining in the House is easy to understand and clearly powerful. The House obviously has a reality of its own, which is objectively demonstrated, although it is hard to imagine what it could possibly be. There is enough evidence to indicate that it is not the product of solipsism but it is a place which should not really exist either. Whatever the truth of it, the House is likely to live long in the memory.

Clarke is a good writer and I hope we do not have to wait another 15 years before she brings out a third novel. Her books, insofar as there is any point in trying to generalize across a sample size of two, contrast the nature of personal lives and relationships with a shadow world (Faerie, the House) which may be seen as a species of fairy tale but which would also bear other forms of analysis. Yet the story lives in its own right and rewards a naïve reading. It is, in other words, a very enjoyable book to read.

John Walsh, Krirk University

Review of Martin’s A Dance with Dragons, Part 2: After the Feast

A Dance with Dragons, Part 2: After the Feast

George R.R. Martin

London: HarperVoyage, 2016

ISBN: 90780008-12234-8

560 pp.

Well, despite some disappointment with the first half of part 5 of A Song of Ice and Fire, reviewed below, it was not long before I felt the need to read the concluding volume. Almost immediately it became evident that this one was going to be much better. To some extent, this results from the choice of narrators – Martin continues his scheme of having multiple narrators, each one progressing the plot through a first person perspective (this strikes me as irredeemably bourgeois in nature but I am not the millionaire best-selling author) with a chapter apiece and each chapter of approximately the same length. Here we almost straight away get old favourites Jaime, Cersie and Arya. The return of these vivid and interesting characters necessarily means less focus on the tedious Stannis-Theon-Bolton sub-plot which has occupied so many pages to so little purpose. I think we get it – people are nasty, brutish and short – there is no need for more threats of torture to make this apparent. Indeed, the relentless use of violence becomes numbing. It also brings to mind the possibility of misogyny. How many times do we have to see women abused and beaten and then become enablers in the same system before we start asking questions about what the author is trying to say. Women in the Game of Thrones world either have real capital to support their lifestyles or have to trade on whatever form of sexual capital they can mobilise to survive the misery of life. There is precious little solidarity among women to be seen. Although it is true that the narrative structure ensures that the inner lives of the oppressed are distant, the world portrayed still begs the question as to why do they not, as I suggested in the previous review, take up arms against these armoured clowns and establish a more just and equal social order? Yes, there is deference and the social order but real history shows generations of discontent and peasant revolts around the world.

Presumably most readers (and those who followed the televised version) are happy enough to follow the pageant of princes, great men and dragons and want wo know who’s up and who’s down. Cersei is down but, like the famous prognosis of capitalism, contains within herself the seeds of her own destruction. She is to be humiliated and punished for disobeying the iron laws that bind the lives of women (see above) and it is fairly clear that this will not end well. Tyrion continues to survive, despite the odds. Jaime has absented himself from the action. Arya has taken some steps and continues to offer a welcome sense of the subversion of society. Best of all, Daenerys is blasted out of her rather wearying Hamlet-like procrastination through the intervention of dragons. Perhaps she will now finally get on with bringing the series to a close (although preferably not in the nihilistic and unlikely way the television series ended).

Martin needs his action to remain fast-moving and compelling so as to overshadow his problems with dialogue and characterization and the various holes in logic in his imagined world. Of course, not everyone wants to read about the institutional development and administrative reforms that would be necessary to support all of these knights and sellswords, but there really should be a sense of these things existing somewhere, doing the necessary work of keeping the roads open, markets established, production and distribution systems in order and so forth. That was more evident in the previous volume than this one which, as I have noted above, moves ahead with more purpose and intensity. Unfortunately, of course, that is it. More than a decade has passed without the next episode appearing, let alone the promised concluding seventh book. Will these ever appear? Is Martin really working on these in earnest?

John Walsh, Krirk University, December 2021

Review of Martin’s A Dance with Dragons, Part 1: Dreams and Dust

A Dance with Dragons: Book V, Part 1: Dreams and Dust

George R.R. Martin

London: HarperVoyager, 2012

ISBN: 978-0-00-746606-1

690 pp.

It has been a few years since I started reading the series A Song of Ice and Fire books, which has become better known as The Game of Thrones. It was when I heard that the television series was going to be screened that I started at the beginning (which is still the best one I have come across) and I stopped when it did actually arrive. Now that the programme is over, for good or ill, I have started reading again – actually, it is not quite as simple as that, since when I was living in Hanoi one of the few bookshops with English books was opened in the Lotte Department Store and, since I wanted to support them (yes, it is part of a successful multinational corporation but that is not the point) I looked for something to buy every so often. One of the few things that I could find was the second part of part five. Since I had not then read part one (I checked – my book reviews used to be published at Bookideas.com and although that has since disappeared it is still possible to find out what used to be there), I waited until I came back to Thailand to pick up the first part and, so, here I am.

I am not going to worry too much about spoilers, since anyone who is still reading the books must surely have watched it on the telly already and the plot was quite carefully followed, at least until the final scenes which had to put on something which is either not yet written or which is being kept secret by the author. It is not clear when the concluding one or two books will appear, if ever, so when I complete part 2 that will bring me up to date. At this stage of the series, then, one might have imagined that the most expansive part of the plot will have been reached and the focus would start narrowing on the most crucial interactions and episodes. It is not clear that this is true, although it is possible that a sudden change could abruptly arrive. The principal strand in this part of the epic follows Tyrion, scarred and much-maligned father-killer, as he travels with more or less volition towards a meeting with Daenerys Targaryen, she of the dragons and the army of freed slaves, who is hanging around the decadent cities of the hot lands and delaying her inevitable return to Westeros where she can pursue her claim to the throne in earnest. Meanwhile, Stannis is still messing about at the Wall up north trying to persuade people he is a genuine claimant himself and generally giving the feeling The Red Witch who accompanies him is a more interesting character but we have not been admitted into her internal world and the nature of both magic and gods has been withheld – both seem to exist but how and where they exist is a mystery. Other characters wander about seeking to further their own ambitions, oblivious to the fact they are acting like flies while wanton immortals are going to come and get them sooner or later.

The basis of the ongoing, ruinous wars is of course economic as the characters may appear to be motivated by revenge or justice but they do seem to imagine themselves as feudal lords and ladies, taking the opportunity to take the throne and distribute gifts and largesse to faithful retainers. Fortunately for these aspirations, Martin has created a Ricardian world in which every community, even small islands, has valuable and desirable goods to trade if only some brave entrepreneur were to lead the way with an initial investment and venture. It is possible to wonder why the poor peasants don’t band together and rise up against the mostly worthless aristocrats whose reckless wastefulness ruins everybody’s lives. What have they got to lose apart from, quite literally in some cases, their chains?

As ever, Martin’s dialogue is mostly terrible and his characters seem to have lost what little intellectual hinterland they might once have had. Cultural differences have been pared down to the bone in the form of the two old standbys of food and women’s clothes. There is very little sense of anything more profound going on rather than history becoming just one damned thing after another. The book reveals the secret at the heart of the Song of Ice and Fire – it’s just not very good.

John Walsh, Krirk University, December 2021

Review of Sapkowski’s Baptism of Fire

Baptism of Fire

Andrzej Sapkowski

London: Gollancz, 2015

ISBN: 978 0 575 09097 2

343 pp.

Translated by David French

A curious thing happens about two thirds of the way into this novel, which is the fifth in The Witcher series (including two volumes of short stories). It may be coincidence but this was just about the time when I was starting to wonder what I was doing reading it, as the characters continue with difficult journeys back and forth across a war-ravaged continent seemingly never to meet up and resolve the plot – then it is revealed that the action is not actually taking place but is being recreated by a story-teller who is attempting to entertain a group of less than enthralled young people. The action rather picks up after this revelation or, perhaps, it suddenly re-engaged me with new vigor. In any case, I enjoyed the concluding chapters rather more than I has expected to do so.

The Witcher is, of course, Geralt of Rivia, a genetically- and magically-enhanced person who is mandated with ridding the world of monsters and dangerous wild animals while navigating a multi-species civilization that has more hostility than empathy. Some kind of grand sorcerous conjunction has taken place in the past which has brought elves, dwarves, humans and others into close contact with each other. The contact is problematic because of the innate ability of humans to go forth and multiply and, as a result, establish new forms of settler colonialism on lands that had previously belonged to the elves and elder species like the dryads. This has sparked a rebellious response and guerillas make journeys from one place to another even more fraught than ever. On top of this, there is an ongoing war and a coven of wizards which is meeting in secret with a view to establishing a new world order in which their influence as the real rulers of kingdoms will be ushered into existence. As a result of all this, Geralt’s personal quests are in danger of being repeatedly delayed and may even be permanently ended. He has at least the companionship of the bard Dandelion to enliven dreary treks among the woods and he collects an unusual group of other waifs and strays along the way who are also able to upset progress towards plot resolution. The result is entertaining enough although, as I said, it did look like it was going to drag on for a bit longer than it really did.

One of the issues related to having a world-weary character at the heart of a series of novels such as this is that he, as Geralt is a he, can act as something of a black hole, sucking the joy and life out of the adventures, while his reader would rather he would get on with being magical and mysterious and fighting villains with the elan of Conan. As a result, it needs other characters like the gadfly Dandelion to keep the action going and, increasingly, an ensemble cast of characters take over, which may be seen either as enriching or diluting the progress of the main story. Geralt is still chasing after Ciri, more or less, although he ends up further away from her than ever, given her increasing enjoyment of living a murderous life on the lam. Yennefer, meanwhile, at least can consign to the past her existence as a statue but things look troublesome for her too as she is beset by unfriendly colleagues on all sides. It is hoped that the trajectory of at least some of these strands of the plot will begin to converge in the next episode. I expect I will read it sooner or later anyway.

John Walsh, Krirk University, September 2021

Review of Ann Leckie’s The Raven Tower

The Raven Tower

Ann Leckie

New York, NY: Orbit Books, 2019

ISBN: 9-780316-388702

451 pp.

In a world full of gods, potent but not omnipotent, present but not omnipresent, it makes little sense to be an atheist. Instead, the resourceful individual should understand that all gods have some value as well as some defects and it is prudent to make use of them as opportunity and circumstances dictate. Avoid, if at all possible, direct confrontations because there is only ever going to be one winner in such a case. These are some of the lessons learned by the people of Iraden, whose trials and tribulations we follow, as described in Ann Leckie’s most recent novel, The Raven Tower. This is Leckie’s first venture into a fantasy world, so far as I am aware. She is most well-known for her award-winning Ancillary trilogy of books, set in space and characterized by a contemporary approach to gender identity (and attached pronouns) and the concomitant confusion over where, exactly, power lies in complex social relationships. This book may be seen as another version of this central issue – we would expect the gods to have all the agency but find that this is hedged in by a variety of reasons.

The plot is driven by the progress of Mawan, who has expected to replace his father as the eponymous raven’s designated instrument in human society but who has been replaced by his uncle, in a Hamlet-like reversal of fortune. He is reduced to verklempt immobility and it is left to his personal assistant, Eolo, to try to work out what has happened and put things right. Around this human story, the various gods of the world pursue their own goals, insofar as they have sufficient sentience to do so. It is not clear where the gods have come from, although presumably they have come from some far-off place, perhaps in the form of ancient astronauts (or their trinkets and pets). They vary in their abilities and power; a powerful god is able to say something and it will become so, with word becoming reality. However, over the many years of their existence, both potency and mental acuity of many have waned and they have become servants of the functions they have become accustomed to fulfilling. Those of potency that still remain rather remind me of Milton’s fallen angels, mired in existential struggles for which they are only partly responsible and from which they cannot escape. It’s a fascinating combination.

As in the Ancillary books, there is an absence of detail about some of the everyday technologies that people use to navigate the world but a focus on some specific items, which highlights their central role in defining power and agency in the political economy of the world. Leckie strips away the accretions of the mundane world to enable the reader to focus more closely on what is really happening while, at the same time, still portraying a compelling narrative to keep the attention of readers who might want to concentrate entirely on a good story and on what is going to happen next. As a bonus, the book is pretty much self-contained, when so many writers of fantasy fiction find it necessary to write extensive series of complex, interrelated novels that require the consumption of many thousands of pages before resolution hoves into view. Having said which, I can see various ways in which new entries in the same universe might be attempted. Ursula K Le Guin leads the way, in my experience, of intensive world-building which is contained in a single book before she moved on to something quite different. Well, I would be happy to read more Leckie books whatever they are about and wherever they are set.

John Walsh, Krirk University, August 2021

Review of Grossman’s The Magician’s Land

The Magician’s Land

Lev Grossman

London: Arrow Books, 2015

ISBN: 9781784750954

401 pp.

In the final part of Lev Grossman’s Magicians trilogy, the author has his protagonist exiled from all he once held most dear, although there was not very much he did hold dear. He has been shut out from the magical land of Fillory, his magic is not as potent as it once was and his beloved girlfriend has been transformed into a hateful Niffin (readers might note that they might be better advised starting with the first book in the series). Perhaps most trying of all, he has become alienated from himself, which he discovers when he returns to the hidden magic academy Brakebills to find that time has not waited for him. Taking a job as a junior faculty member, he learns that the students treat him as just another of the faceless, ancient ones who have taken it upon themselves to insert themselves between the young people and their manifest destiny. Quentin Coldwater, protagonist and adept at mending small, broken things sets off to spend the rest of the book re-establishing his authenticity in whatever way presents itself.

Fortunately, Quentin’s is not the only story that we get to follow – he never appeared to me to be a very interesting character in himself but instead acted as a vehicle through which the other characters could express themselves. Instead, many of those who enlivened the first two books reappear here, notably Janet and Eliot, the mournful Russian sociopath Mayakovsky and the Niffin Alice herself. They too are dealing with the consequences of their earlier actions and this is one of the themes of the entire work: we can, as individuals, do things, either simply or with extensive preparation and calculation but in due course we can go through with them and then what? This goes to the heart of the nature of magic overall, of course. We can gather up the required resources (well, we muggles cannot, of course, cause this type of magic but we could in a Lovecraft world) and speak the ancient language and wiggle our fingers just so and then voila. However, there are both immediate consequences to the act and then longer-term and probably more important ones. In The Magician’s Land, at least some of the characters have learned enough about themselves and the world around them to be able to ameliorate negative consequences and even become able to impose their will upon the world and create a sense of agency – it is reminiscent of the argument of moving from the pre-modern to the modern world or, more prosaically, from youth to maturity.

As ever in the case of magic, a certain degree of suspension of disbelief is required, not just in accepting the basic premise but, also, in not questioning why characters with the ability to use magic do not use it in some quite obvious ways to enrich themselves and their loved ones, increasing security while establishing a network of cat’s paws to do what work they might wish to have done without being exposed to risk. Of course, in fiction, such attempts inevitably end in defeat but it is certainly worth a try. However, that would perhaps not make for so interesting a story and would not suit Grossman’s intent, in this case. In Fillory, of course, something more heroic and individual is required in any case.

The book is at its best when it is barrelling through the plot, bringing suspense and excitement to the narrative. The characterisation is not very detailed or startling but it is functional and the prose is mostly unobtrusive, so that although it is not very memorable or even very good at least it does not get in the way of the process of reading. Those who have read the previous two episodes will certainly want to find out how the story ends and those who have yet to discover the trilogy might well appreciate it that they have something else to enjoy.

John Walsh, RMIT Vietnam, December, 2002

Review of Sapkowski’s Sword of Destiny

Sword of Destiny

Andrzej Sapkowski

New York, NY: Orbit Books, 2015

ISBN: 978-0-316-38970-9

393 pp.

Translated by David French

This is the second collection of short stories about the Witcher, Geralt of Rivera, who became launched as a result as a star of video games and television, as well as a series of subsequent novels. Witchers are genetically modified fighters whose role it is to seek out and kill the monsters of the world in return for money and a modicum of respect. The world is a violent one and as a result of a kind of conjunction of the planets, which led to a migration of creatures from one to another. The world we follow is one in which fecund humanity is expanding across the planet and, as a result of the Faustian expansionism, the habitats of other sentinel beings are constricted with the obvious outcome of the need for the Witcher. Presumably, one of the later novels will reveal more of how all of this has come to pass and who has been responsible for the system which will necessitates Geralt and those of his kind. However, this will all be, so to speak, in the future and, for the time being, we are still exploring the world and its ways.

The most noticeable aspect of the world is, perhaps, its air of casual venality. Society is ruled by bullies and dogs are obeyed in office. The possession of weapons, even improvised ones, gives power to the wielder and, owing to the uneven distribution of resources, that wielder soon looks for the opportunity to take whatever a neighbour might happen to have. Even in the absence if violence, the bonds keeping society together are easily frayed and broken, which is evident from the person who is Geralt’s most common companion, the bard Dandelion. Dandelion is a womaniser in a world in which familial bonds mean little in the face of the boredom of everyday life and the inevitability of a miserable and, worse, a tedious ending to come. As a bard, he brings the possibility of a higher calling or purpose to daily existence but this is ultimately as fraudulent as the promises he abundantly issues: at one stage, Dandelion threatens to withdraw from a dangerous path to rescue because it would entail him losing his collection of self-penned lyrics. However, a few words from Geralt are enough to persuade him to throw them all away because he can easily enough create others, perhaps even the same ones again and no one would be any the wiser.

By contrast, the monsters against which Geralt is required to pitch himself tend to be altogether more admirable in one way or another. True, there are some which have lifestyles that encourage them to kill and then eat any humans they come across and these Geralt will kill and claim the bounty for them. However, there are many others that just mind their own business and happen to find themselves in the way of a new development. These, Geralt will leave alone if at all possible or, at least, persuade them to go and live somewhere else where they might find a few extra years of peace. In a central story in this collection, the eponymous ‘Sword of Destiny,’ Geralt deals with a community of dryads. As creatures with intimate relationships with the trees they nurture and which support them, dryads are symbolic of immovable forces of the earth which are confronted by the unstoppable forces of progress. The mind is drawn to Saruman’s feeding of the ancient trees to the machines tended by his orcs to amass his power and consequence. In this case, Geralt tries to broker some kind of compromise which might allow the dryads to live a little longer but it is not possible. The relentless spread of humanity is not to be stopped by the quondam equivalent of ‘newt-counting.’

This all rather suggests a kind of nihilism with which we might be familiar with the world of Stormbringer and which did indeed lead to the end of the world. The development of Geralt’s personal philosophy is a slender enough weapon to put up against this destiny and his long-term on-off relationship with the wizard Yennefer is doomed by their mutual sterility and her relentless search for a cure, no matter what the cost may be. Instead, a child – a princess and also a future wizard but a child nevertheless – reappears in Geralt’s life and she is the Sword of Destiny, which provides the reason why Geralt is content to go on living and fighting the unequal struggle. This new relationship will help drive the narrative forwards in the forthcoming novels (or, at least, certainly the next one, which I read before the two earlier short story collections by mistake).

John Walsh, RMIT Vietnam, July 2020