Saturday, 26 August 2017 10:49 pm
Book Review: The Way of Shadows
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
deckardcanineAs I said before, the first novel in the Night Angel Trilogy doesn't show many signs of fantasy up front, apart from a mix of common and unfamiliar names and some made-up geography. I think it was around page 80 that I became certain that magic even exists in its pseudo-medieval world, and no blatantly fictitious species rate a mention. Magic does play an important part, but subtly enough that author Brent Weeks clearly wants to impress us in ways other than sheer imagination.
Indeed, it begins with a reflection of an ugly piece of reality we'd all rather escape: the lives of criminal children, complete with horrific abuse of all kinds by a leader who exhibits no virtue whatsoever. (Weeks says in the included interview that he actually toned it down from what he's heard.) The protagonist, 11-year-old Azoth, seeks to leave the thieves' guild by way of apprenticeship. While he apparently has options, only one appeals to him: Having seen the city's #1 assassin, Durzo Blint, at work, he figures it's his best bet for conquering fear.
OK, Blint would hate to be called an assassin, as he reserves that word for the mundane variety. Instead, he's called a wetboy, and the magic that helps him with stealth and athletics is called his Talent. I had assumed that "wetboy" was pure juvenile slang, but there doesn't seem to be another word for it. And Blint is well past his teens.
Blint gives Azoth the prerequisite of killing his gang leader. Many of the following chapters make significant jumps in time, collectively about a decade. During this time, Azoth has his death faked, adopts the default name "Kylar" and a bunch of other pseudonyms, assumes the identity of a minor count, befriends some nobles, gets a thorough education, kills however many presumed-guilty targets and the occasional hapless witness, tries in vain to exercise his perceived Talent, and secretly watches a former guild mate grow into a lovely if scarred young woman with his anonymous sponsorship. His life is decidedly better than before, but he never exactly enjoys murder or the rigorous training for it, nor is it easy to keep that secret from people he cares about.
If only his problems remained on such a small scale. The corruption-filled kingdom has some jockeying for power, including from a foreign nation. Even the powerful underworld network can't stave off pandemonium forever, and when it comes, the wetboys will have to weigh their loyalties.
Azoth/Kylar is one of several focal characters in the course of the story. I never found the switches to bog me down, but then, I did use to read Tad Williams epics, so it might be different for you. And not all focal characters survive.
I'm not surprised to learn that Weeks lists George R.R. Martin among his inspirations. Not only is there something of a game of thrones going on, but at several points I thought, "Wow. He really went there." Let's just say that when an oracle brings bad news, you'd better believe it -- tho unlike most, he leaves it a bit open-ended: "If you do X...." And while we don't get any sexual details, the MPAA equivalent rating is definitely R, for violence and on-and-off heavy swearing.
I'm also not surprised that Weeks' favorite character is Blint. He's mine too. I do kinda have a thing for hitmen with hearts. Blint may repeat a dictum that life is worthless, but he clearly doesn't believe it, for himself and quite a few others. When called on that, he simply says without elaborating, "Every man worth a damn is a hypocrite." My best way to make sense of it is to think of Walt Whitman's "Song of Myself," claiming that there's no shame in containing "multitudes." Blint does have a few principles, but I could picture him doing just about anything in terms of ethics. Kylar has to keep revising his opinion of his master, who repeatedly threatens his life but might never be serious about it.
I never quite caught the differences among the different terms for non-wetboy magic users -- "mage," "wytch," "meister" -- but it is clear that the Vürdmeisters are the most powerful. No wetboy will tangle with them if he can help it. Nice to know the limits of our antiheroes.
This volume ends with more victory for the decided villains than for the people we can conceivably call good guys, but a glimmer of hope emerges. Weeks (who shows more humor in the interview and bio than in the entire rest of the book) assures us that the series gets brighter as it goes along. He just had to put the audience in doubt about who would live -- as well as who might be redeemed. It does challenge our hearts as well as our minds. I feel a little guilty for enjoying the badassery of some ill-justified actions, especially the wetboys', but it doesn't make me want to take a shower.
For all its superficially similar grit, I place TWoS far ahead of Terry Goodkind's Temple of the Winds. The 645 pages moved quickly and continually made me want more. I have now put the sequel, Shadow's Edge, on my wish list. I might not even wait long to start it. (I skipped the preview at the end so as not to spoil it for myself.)
At the advice of both parents, I have borrowed The Rosie Project by Graeme Simsion. My reactions to Aspergian characters have been hit and miss; we'll see how this goes.
Indeed, it begins with a reflection of an ugly piece of reality we'd all rather escape: the lives of criminal children, complete with horrific abuse of all kinds by a leader who exhibits no virtue whatsoever. (Weeks says in the included interview that he actually toned it down from what he's heard.) The protagonist, 11-year-old Azoth, seeks to leave the thieves' guild by way of apprenticeship. While he apparently has options, only one appeals to him: Having seen the city's #1 assassin, Durzo Blint, at work, he figures it's his best bet for conquering fear.
OK, Blint would hate to be called an assassin, as he reserves that word for the mundane variety. Instead, he's called a wetboy, and the magic that helps him with stealth and athletics is called his Talent. I had assumed that "wetboy" was pure juvenile slang, but there doesn't seem to be another word for it. And Blint is well past his teens.
Blint gives Azoth the prerequisite of killing his gang leader. Many of the following chapters make significant jumps in time, collectively about a decade. During this time, Azoth has his death faked, adopts the default name "Kylar" and a bunch of other pseudonyms, assumes the identity of a minor count, befriends some nobles, gets a thorough education, kills however many presumed-guilty targets and the occasional hapless witness, tries in vain to exercise his perceived Talent, and secretly watches a former guild mate grow into a lovely if scarred young woman with his anonymous sponsorship. His life is decidedly better than before, but he never exactly enjoys murder or the rigorous training for it, nor is it easy to keep that secret from people he cares about.
If only his problems remained on such a small scale. The corruption-filled kingdom has some jockeying for power, including from a foreign nation. Even the powerful underworld network can't stave off pandemonium forever, and when it comes, the wetboys will have to weigh their loyalties.
Azoth/Kylar is one of several focal characters in the course of the story. I never found the switches to bog me down, but then, I did use to read Tad Williams epics, so it might be different for you. And not all focal characters survive.
I'm not surprised to learn that Weeks lists George R.R. Martin among his inspirations. Not only is there something of a game of thrones going on, but at several points I thought, "Wow. He really went there." Let's just say that when an oracle brings bad news, you'd better believe it -- tho unlike most, he leaves it a bit open-ended: "If you do X...." And while we don't get any sexual details, the MPAA equivalent rating is definitely R, for violence and on-and-off heavy swearing.
I'm also not surprised that Weeks' favorite character is Blint. He's mine too. I do kinda have a thing for hitmen with hearts. Blint may repeat a dictum that life is worthless, but he clearly doesn't believe it, for himself and quite a few others. When called on that, he simply says without elaborating, "Every man worth a damn is a hypocrite." My best way to make sense of it is to think of Walt Whitman's "Song of Myself," claiming that there's no shame in containing "multitudes." Blint does have a few principles, but I could picture him doing just about anything in terms of ethics. Kylar has to keep revising his opinion of his master, who repeatedly threatens his life but might never be serious about it.
I never quite caught the differences among the different terms for non-wetboy magic users -- "mage," "wytch," "meister" -- but it is clear that the Vürdmeisters are the most powerful. No wetboy will tangle with them if he can help it. Nice to know the limits of our antiheroes.
This volume ends with more victory for the decided villains than for the people we can conceivably call good guys, but a glimmer of hope emerges. Weeks (who shows more humor in the interview and bio than in the entire rest of the book) assures us that the series gets brighter as it goes along. He just had to put the audience in doubt about who would live -- as well as who might be redeemed. It does challenge our hearts as well as our minds. I feel a little guilty for enjoying the badassery of some ill-justified actions, especially the wetboys', but it doesn't make me want to take a shower.
For all its superficially similar grit, I place TWoS far ahead of Terry Goodkind's Temple of the Winds. The 645 pages moved quickly and continually made me want more. I have now put the sequel, Shadow's Edge, on my wish list. I might not even wait long to start it. (I skipped the preview at the end so as not to spoil it for myself.)
At the advice of both parents, I have borrowed The Rosie Project by Graeme Simsion. My reactions to Aspergian characters have been hit and miss; we'll see how this goes.