Book Review | Children of Earth and Sky by Guy Gavriel Kay

From the small coastal town of Senjan, notorious for its pirates, a young woman sets out to find vengeance for her lost family. That same spring, from the wealthy city-state of Seressa, famous for its canals and lagoon, come two very different people: a young artist traveling to the dangerous east to paint the grand khalif at his request—and possibly to do more—and a fiercely intelligent, angry woman, posing as a doctor’s wife, but sent by Seressa as a spy.

The trading ship that carries them is commanded by the accomplished younger son of a merchant family, ambivalent about the life he’s been born to live. And farther east a boy trains to become a soldier in the elite infantry of the khalif—to win glory in the war everyone knows is coming.

As these lives entwine, their fates—and those of many others—will hang in the balance, when the khalif sends out his massive army to take the great fortress that is the gateway to the western world...

***

Children of Earth and Sky sees contemporary fiction's finest fantasist return to the site of the Sarantine Mosaic and the subject of The Lions of Al-Rassan in a magnificently modest affair more interested in the myriad men and women caught in the crossfire of the holy war that flickers around its fringes than it is that momentous event.

The most apparent casualty of the the conflict so far is the city of cities itself, for just as Constantinople was toppled by the Ottomans, Sarantium in all its unimaginable majesty has finally fallen to the followers of an indomitable conqueror. It's known, now, as Asharias, "and the man who ruled there amid gardens where silence was apparently the law on pain of strangulation [...] wanted to rule the world." (pp.64-65)

You might imagine his megalomaniacal designs would inspire the several cities in the vicinity to put aside their trivial differences—after all, if Sarantium can be successfully sieged, then nowhere is safe from the Osmanli Empire's plans to expand. You'd be mistaken, I'm afraid. Sadly for the people of Seressa and Dubrava, the governing bodies of Kay's vibrant versions of Venice and Dubrovnik are entirely too dependent on trade to even consider open conflict:

For the Seressinis, the idea of peace, with open, unthreatened commerce, was the most important thing in the god's created world. It mattered more (though this would never actually be said) than diligent attention to the doctrines of Jad as voiced by the sun god's clerics. Seressa traded, extensively, with the unbelieving Osmanlis in the east—and did so whatever High Patriarchs might say or demand. (p.5)

Milestones | 1000 and Counting

Way back when, in January 2010, I launched The Speculative Scotsman. Why? In large part because I wanted to talk to the world about Tigana by Guy Gavriel Kay: a book that moved me hugely.

I wasn't sure what I'd do with a blog about genre fiction in all its multifarious forms afterwards, but I figured I'd cross that bridge when I came to it, and I did, I think. I had a tower of books to be read even then, and The Speculative Scotsman, in the beginning, gave me a great excuse to dig into it a little.

It wasn't long before review copies of new novels started arriving, lending the site some small sense of acceptance, but the icing on the great cake came when, to my surprise and delight, a few of my favourite bloggers blogged about this new blogger they'd noticed.

Me, I realised. Me! :)

It'd be a fib to say I haven't looked back since. I have, from time to time. I've struggled to keep up the pace; I've come close to burning out on books; I've lost my faith in fiction only to find it again, and again, and again. For a blogger, this is par for the course, of course. These questions come with the territory.

And what with the superblogs out there — the Tor.coms and the IO9s — the landscape looks a lot different today than it did then: one of the many ways I've been feeling my age of late. Between that and suddenly turning 30, I just don't have the energy I used to. I can't compete: that's clear.

But this was never about winning; this was about sharing something. Something special. Something I crave as much today as I did in the beginning.

Today, in any case, marks a very special blogaversary for me. One I wasn't sure I'd ever see, because sometimes it has been hard. But never mind my more maudlin moments: the vast majority of the time it's been absolute magic. Blogging is in my blood now. I don't know what I'd do without it. Without you, in truth.

This is the thousandth post I've published on The Speculative Scotsman. I can't imagine I have another thousand in me, but together... together we'll see, won't we?

Now, because it seems so fitting I can't resist, I'm off to celebrate with some Guy Gavriel Kay...

Season's Greetings | The Fun of the Future

Four years to the day my time with Tigana compelled me to launch this blog, 2014 is here, and though I'm still very much in holiday mode, and of course, horribly hungover, I wanted to take a second to say: welcome to the future, folks!

I can only hope it's as bright as Orange promised.

So what's to come in 2014? Well, one wonders. For me at least, not knowing is perhaps half the fun of the future — and I don't, in any great detail — but plenty, I expect, including a few fairly major changes. 

Before all that, though, stay tuned for Top of the Scots. I already have my lists locked. All that remains is for me to explain, because I imagine my choices might surprise some of you. Expect more on that momentarily. And in the meantime?

Sincerely, readers dear: I hope you all have a happy New Year. :)

Book Review | River of Stars by Guy Gavriel Kay

Buy this book from
Amazon.co.uk / Amazon.com
IndieBound / The Book Depository

Or get the Kindle edition

Ren Daiyan was still just a boy when he took the lives of seven men while guarding an imperial magistrate of Kitai. That moment on a lonely road changed his life—in entirely unexpected ways, sending him into the forests of Kitai among the outlaws. From there he emerges years later—and his life changes again, dramatically, as he circles towards the court and emperor, while war approaches Kitai from the north.

Lin Shan is the daughter of a scholar, his beloved only child. Educated by him in ways young women never are, gifted as a songwriter and calligrapher, she finds herself living a life suspended between two worlds. Her intelligence captivates an emperor—and alienates women at the court. But when her father’s life is endangered by the savage politics of the day, Shan must act in ways no woman ever has.

In an empire divided by bitter factions circling an exquisitely cultured emperor who loves his gardens and his art far more than the burdens of governing, dramatic events on the northern steppe alter the balance of power in the world, leading to events no one could have foretold, under the river of stars.

***

Legends are not born, but made. Not fated, but carefully—or carelessly—shaped.

A lesson for the ages, there, but not one that every scholar takes to heart.

"Is it possible... can a man be born into the world to be something, for something?" 

"Yes," said the old man. "But even if he is, it doesn't always happen. Too much can intervene. The world does what it does, under heaven. Our dreams, our certainties, crash into each other." 

"Like swords?" Daiyan said. 

The old man shrugged. "Like swords, like ambitions at court." 

A silence. (pp.359-360)

Despite this oft-voiced thought, Ren Daiyan has felt possessed by something resembling destiny from an early age. As a boy of fifteen scant summers at the outset of Guy Gavriel Kay's sublime new novel, he is asked to help protect the sub-prefect on an investigative mission through treacherous territory. Thrilled by the prospect of "keeping order for the emperor" (p.16) in some small way, he accepts the request.

Bandits fall upon the caravan in short order. Surprising everyone except himself, Daiyan single-handedly slaughters them all. "What followed on that lonely path between forest and cliffs felt destined, necessary, not truly a matter of choosing. It was more as if the choice had been made for him, he was only the agency of its working." (p.23) Soon, he is revered as a local hero—and the legend of his life which River of Stars examines has begun.

It is a dark time for the empire under heaven, however, regardless of Daiyan's grand designs:

The Silk Roads through the deserts were lost, cut off by barbarians. 

No western treasures flowed to Kitai now, to the trading cities or the court in Hanjin. No legendary green-eyed, yellow-haired dancing girls bringing seductive music. No jade and ivory or exotic fruits, no wealth of silver coins brought by merchants to buy longed-for Kitan silk and carry it back west on camels through the sands. 

This Twelfth Dynasty of Kitai under their radiant and glorious emperor did not rule and define the known world. Not any more. (p.8)

Indeed, this is an empire diminished in every which way, which is to say from within its more modest borders as well as outwith. Unrest is on the rise: peasant rebellions and political protests are now par for the course. The great walls which once encompassed Kitai have crumbled. In turn, the glittering court has been humbled. And all the while, barbarians beat at the gates.

Though Daiyan is "serenely convinced" (p.246) that he will one day regain the fabled Fourteen—namely the outermost prefectures lost to the empire long ago—if Kitai is to survive, never mind thrive, its future will be fashioned by other hands than his.

Other hands... such as Lin Shan's. The only daughter of the court gentleman Lin Kuo, she has been educated, against all the guidance of the time, much as a male child might be:

She wasn't, of course, going to write any examinations, or wear robes with the belt of any rank at all, but her father had given her the learning to do so. And he had made her perfect her writing skills and the brush strokes of her calligraphy. 

The songs, the ci, she had discovered on her own. (p.45)

Shan comes to consider her unique upbringing a boon, however I fear few others do. As she puts it, "men tend to be made uneasy, or sometimes amused, by [her intelligence]," (ibid) while women outright dislike her. Yet she is a self-sufficient girl at the outset, and her determination develops with each subsequent summer. She comes of age quickly, and is promptly married off. But she does not simply submit to her husband. Instead, they become friends... equals, even—at least until the emperor himself takes an interest in Shan and her songs.

These events certainly factor in to who she is, but their impact is underpinned by her unwavering sense of self. To wit, though she does not know what to make of the emperor's fascination in the first, she is certain not to become some pretty pet or accessory. In her way, if I may, Shan proves as pivotal to Kitai as Daiyan dreams of being—albeit in a roundabout manner returning readers are likely to find familiar.

No real poet would claim originality for an image of streams becoming rivers over distance and time: how even those that can destroy farmlands with their flooding, or thunder through gorges and over falls, begin as rivulets in the rocks of mountains, or underground waters that find the surface and being to flow across the land to find the sea. 

Nor could the idea that rivers come together to make a single force be asserted as distinctive. The test is always in the words—and the brush strokes shaping them. There are only so many ideas, so many patterns in the world. (p.147)

That Guy Gavriel Kay has the confidence to acknowledge this is testament to his inimitable vision and ability, I think. After all, River of Stars does describe a rather archetypal pattern, especially as regards the author's own body of work. Themes and thoughts he has explored before reappear with some frequency. His protagonists occasionally behave in unsurprising ways, recalling heroes and stories of yore.

But don't dare be dismayed, because these things are only as similar, in this iteration, as they are different. The quarter turn the author often talks about also returns, and in River of Stars it applies to narrative and character as well as questions of setting. Here, you see, some rivulets become rivers, but others simply trickle, or dry up entirely. Great tales in the making are regularly interrupted, whilst a number of dreams come to nothing. As Kay contends:

Small events can be important in the unfolding, like a pleated sail, of the world. The survival of an emissary, say, or his drowning on a ship in a sudden summer thunderstorm. 

But sometimes such moments do not signify in the sweep and flow of events, though obviously they will matter greatly to those who might have thought their lives were ending in rain and wins, and for those who love them dearly and would have grieved for their loss. (p.313)

This, too, is an idea the award-winning author has put in the past—in The Last Light of the Sun, for one—but here he voices it so often, and so powerfully, that it is more than an incidental omen. It is a warning that the reader cannot but take to heart; a statement instead of a suggestion. Therefore a sense of terrible dread demarcates the redoubtable delights we have come to expect from Kay's fantastic fiction, gathering in force and scope as it goes.

In short, certain elements must be expected in order for the unexpected to be effective, and in River of Stars, it is.

Or is it?

I'm sorry. Sometimes I can't help myself. River of Stars really does pack a punch, in large part because of the way Kay plays with our expectations, engineering difference and originality out of our expectations of his characters and narratives—and the same can be asserted of the text's refreshed setting.

If the truth be told, few things in life get me quite as excited as the prospect of a new novel from this master craftsman. Nevertheless, I know I was not alone in wishing—when we first heard that River of Stars would return to the empire investigated in Under Heaven—that the author had channelled his inimitable imagination into a wonderful new world rather than returning to Kitai.

To all those who worried with me: rest easy. Centuries have passed since the Tagurans gifted Shen Tai with two hundred and fifty gorgeous horses, cursing him with kindness in the process, and time has absolutely ravaged Kitai. What once shimmered like a jewel in moonlight has not utterly dulled, but must of its lustre is, alas, lost—its glory is gone, sacrificed alongside a large expanse of land. Here's how Daiyan's embittered instructor phrases this change:

The spring tea harvest had been dismal, desperate, and the fields for rice and vegetables were far too dry. This autumn's crops had been frighteningly sparse. There hadn't been any tax relief, either. The emperor needed money, there was a war. Teacher Tuan had things to say about that, too, sometimes reckless things. 

[...] 

He'd told them that Xinan, the capital of glorious dynasties, had held two million people once, and that only a hundred thousand or so lived there now, scattered among rubble. He'd said that Tagur, to the west of them here, across the passes, had been a rival empire long ago, fierce and dangerous, with magnificent horses, and that it was now only a cluster of scrabbling provinces and fortified religious retreats. (p.4)

Ultimaltey, Twelfth Dynasty Kitai is so very different from the empire Under Heaven's readers will remember that it proves almost as satisfying as an entirely new milieu—and what little we do lose in lieu of another culture in place of Kay's impeccable portrayal of ancient China, we gain elsewhere, given how resonant River of Stars is with affectionate connections to its predecessor.

To be completely clear: you most certainly don't have to have read Under Heaven to appreciate Kay's latest—in fact, I can't imagine anyone coming away from this dazzling display feeling less than elated—but poignant nods to the characters, concerns and consequences of his masterful last fantasy make the return trip to Kitai that much more fulfilling.

It may be that you think you know what River of Stars is. You don't, though. As samey as I can see it seeming in some ways, rest assured that its every dimension is distinct in some sense. I suppose it hones closer to the author's other novels than Under Heaven—an outright exception to the pattern he has established over the years, and a revelation in its quiet way—but River of Stars is no less enthralling for its passing familiarity... which Kay plays into marvellously in any event.

I got just what I wanted out of River of Stars, and I wanted an awful lot. I wanted fundamentally memorable and delicately developed characters, a massively ambitious narrative, an exquisitely rendered setting, and prose so finely honed that it has all the impact of fine art. These are just a few of the things I've come to expect from Guy Gavriel Kay over the years, and he does not disappoint here.

Far from it. Kay on a bad day remains many times more absorbing than the vast majority of other genre authors, and I dare say River of Stars chronicles him on a great day. This is stunning stuff from one of fantasy fiction's finest. From one of fiction's finest, frankly.

***

River of Stars

by Guy Gavriel Kay

UK Publication: July 2013, HarperFiction
US Publication: April 2013, Roc

Buy this book from
Amazon.co.uk / Amazon.com
IndieBound / The Book Depository

Or get the Kindle edition

Recommended and Related Reading

Kickstart My Heart | A Year of Daydreams & A River of Stars

I've been sceptical of this Kickstarter lark since the beginning, but for the right reasons, I'll gladly set aside my cynicism.

For instance, photographer Lauren Zurchin has announced a particularly interesting project. She's going to be "photographing fourteen of the world's most famous fantasy authors in custom hand-crafted costumes, and putting the photos together into a fantasy calendar for charity. The authors involved are Brandon Sanderson, Brandon Mull, Christopher Paolini, Gregory Maguire, Tad Williams, Patrick Rothfuss, Cassandra Clare, Holly Black, Lauren Kate, Lauren Oliver, Maggie Stiefvater, Gail Carriger, Tessa Gratton, and Brenna Yovanoff."

"This project is huge, and with the support of these authors I've taken to Kickstarter to raise the bare-minimum funds needed to make this project a reality. Every author involved in the project has offered limited edition exclusive items up for grabs—prizes that are only offered this one time and never again. Kickstarter contributors can find limited edition prints of their fantasy calendar photo (signed), wall posters (signed), "personalized packs" (containing prints, autographed calendar, and more—personalized and signed by the author), and calendars signed by all fourteen of the project's participants. There are several high-end prizes up for grabs, including Skype chats with a few of the participating authors."

Sounds super—not least because I could do with a nice new calendar myself. Honestly, anything would be preferable to another eleven months of dogs on holiday, but Lauren's Year of Daydreams looks independently lovely. Plus, she won't simply be pocketing the proceeds: the profits will be shared between First Book and Patrick Rothfuss' wonderful Worldbuilders project.

Hang on.

Here's a video explaining the whole thing:

Go on and pledge, then!

Meanwhile, if you've been anticipating River of Stars half as much as I have, this auction of a signed ARC must be music to your ears. Guy Gavriel Kay has blogged about what he'll be doing with the funds raised by the sale here.

If I didn't already have a review copy of Kay's huge new book, I'd put in a bid myself.

Given the beneficiary, perhaps I still will...

The Scotsman Abroad | Smugglivus Some More!

With winter officially here, and Christmas equally near, Smugglivus has begun again over at The Book Smugglers, and however hard we mere mortals might try, nobody does December better than Ana and Thea.

Last year, for my first Smugglivus, I contributed a post entitled Twelve for 2012. This year, it was with immense pleasure that I received a second invite to the site, so I embarked upon a similar but different endeavour, casting my net slightly wider to include forthcoming films and TV series alongside the usual selection of exciting new books. 

Lucky 2013 went live yesterday, and I'd urge you to pop across to The Book Smugglers' blog to read my epic guest post in its entirety. Here's a bit from my first pick:

"There are a couple of authors whose work I practically worship: foremost amongst them, K. J. Parker and China Mieville, both of whom have had new novels released every year for at least the last three. In all probability, there will be books bearing their names in 2013 – for once in my life, I'm hoping each begins a series after so many standalone narratives – but as yet no-one knows what or when or even if these will be. 

"So forgive me, but for my first pick, I’m going to plump for something that actually exists. Guy Gavriel Kay is another firm favourite of mine, right up there alongside the previous pair in the great fantasy food chain, plus he publishes rather more rarely than they. Thus, though there’s been no word on a date for the UK, the release of River of Stars in North America in early April is especially exciting."

I go from the great Guy Gavriel Kay to Stephen King's sequel to The Shining, by way of the new Superman movie and the final season of Starz' Spartacus — and that's hardly the half of it.

You know where to go!

Coming Attractions | River of Stars by Guy Gavriel Kay

I'm not often one to jump on the cover art bandwagon, and most of the usual suspects have covered this particular image to death already... but for Guy Gavriel Kay? I'll make an exception.

After the news that Kay's next novel will be a kinda sorta sequel to his last - at least insofar as it marks a return to Under Heaven's invented setting, four centuries on - we have an early look at the front cover and flap copy of the US edition of River of Stars, which is due out, as I understand it, in early 2013.

Firstly, here's the new shiny looking all lovely alongside its pretty predecessor:

A perfect fit, aren't they?

And we have a blurb to boot:

"In his critically acclaimed novel Under Heaven, Guy Gavriel Kay told a vivid and powerful story inspired by China’s Tang Dynasty. Now, the international bestselling and multiple award-winning author revisits that invented setting four centuries later with an epic of prideful emperors, battling courtiers, bandits and soldiers, nomadic invasions, and a woman battling in her own way, to find a new place for women in the world – a world inspired this time by the glittering, decadent Song Dynasty.

"Ren Daiyan was still just a boy when he took the lives of seven men while guarding an imperial magistrate of Kitai. That moment on a lonely road changed his life—in entirely unexpected ways, sending him into the forests of Kitai among the outlaws. From there he emerges years later—and his life changes again, dramatically, as he circles towards the court and emperor, while war approaches Kitai from the north.

"Lin Shan is the daughter of a scholar, his beloved only child. Educated by him in ways young women never are, gifted as a songwriter and calligrapher, she finds herself living a life suspended between two worlds. Her intelligence captivates an emperor—and alienates women at the court. But when her father’s life is endangered by the savage politics of the day, Shan must act in ways no woman ever has.

"In an empire divided by bitter factions circling an exquisitely cultured emperor who loves his gardens and his art far more than the burdens of governing, dramatic events on the northern steppe alter the balance of power in the world, leading to events no one could have foretold, under the river of stars."

So. Sounds good. Sounds very good. But then... what Guy Gavriel Kay novel has not?

 

In all honesty, I'm unsure how to feel about River of Stars. I mean, I enjoyed Under Heaven a great deal, but of all the Kay I've read - five novels and counting, now - it's probably the least meaningful to me. I can't help but wonder, why revisit this world, instead of any of the others I'd be over the moon at the prospect of returning to?

 

But who am I to question to wisdom of such a master craftsman? At the very least, I'm sure River of Stars will be a shoe-in for contention amongst the best books of next year, and I'll be excited to see it. I just... I wish Kay was innovating - creating wonderful new worlds for us to lose ourselves in - rather than retreading familiar territory.

That's my two cents, anyway. But how do you fine folks feel about the recent announcement of River of Stars? Who amongst you, I wonder, has been clamouring for a return to the shimmering milieu of Under Heaven?

Letters From America | Week Two: Lost Souls and Liquor in New Orleans and Florida

Last time we talked properly – that is excepting the intros and outros appended to each of the guest posts you’ll have seen on the site since – I had just arrived in New Orleans, having been knocked for six by the sheer size of everything here in the States. I should perhaps amend that observation now that I’ve seen a smidge more of this massive landmass; after all NOLA was dramatically different from Houston, and Panama City Beach – where I’ve been recovering since – is a whole other kettle of fish again.

But look at me and my seafood-based wordplay! If you didn’t know different, you’d be forgiven for thinking I was having a whale of a time here in America. :D

I am, at that... though New Orleans, as I intimated in the inaugural edition of Letters From America, was rather a shock to the system after the incredibly warm welcome we were treated to in Texas. Long story short: me and mine got off to a bad start on our first night in New Orleans, and though things were looking up by the time we left, I still hadn’t quite come around.

So I didn’t love NOLA, no. But by the end I didn’t despise it either, and after that first night – no gory details today, I’m afraid – to be able to say even that speaks to how much more pleasant the city was once we found our skinny Scottish feet in it.

Wait, I didn’t say the city, did I? You must excuse me – that’s not entirely true. I suppose we were in the city, which is to say surrounded on all sides by endless urban sprawl, but honestly, it hardly felt like it: we didn’t leave the French Quarter once during the entire time we propped up the Best Western on Rampart. Perhaps we should have, quite against all the advice we’d been given... not least because by the end of our stay, I for one was feeling a bit boxed-in.

In fairness to the place, I think the trips I’ve taken to beautiful little European cities like Krakov and Bruges and Bratislava somewhat spoiled me on New Orleans, without me even realising it. All quaint places, I guess, with beer and wine and good food and music in abundance, but none of the nastiness that kept cropping up here, nor the ripe aroma of piss and shit and sick in the air everywhere, and definitely lots less leering. Also: if you’re planning on spending more than a few days in the French Quarter of New Orleans, have your paperwork in order to declare bankruptcy in the midst of your trip.

My nostalgia for the New Orleans Poppy Z. Brite painted so perfectly in the books I swore by as a moderately freaky teenager probably didn’t help matters either. Lost Souls and such; especially the Liquor trilogy Brite ended up capping off her writing career with.

I did wonder how different the French Quarter would have been if I’d only experienced it before the horrors of Hurricane Katrina. I didn’t ask any such thing, obviously. It seemed impolite... not that decency seemed to be any sort of obstacle to the innumerable booths and shops and street-walkers looking to make a quick buck on glorious guided tours of the devastated areas.

But I should digress. At the end of my time in New Orleans, I was certainly keen to get on with the rest of this crazy-with-a-capital-crazy road trip, but we’ll be taking a few happy memories home with us, and it wouldn’t do to overlook them: one born hot and throbbing in Maison on Frenchmen Street – on open mic night and everything – and another, oddly, from a ghost tour with a guy from Haunted History who told some of the best spoken word stories I’ve ever heard. Ever.

So what happened next?

Truth be told, it’s a bit of a blur already. We drove for six hours in a rented Nissan, delighting in all the classic rock radio stations we kept picking up along the way, only to lose mere moments later. We stuck, cleverly, to the right side of the road, which felt wrong on so many levels. Eventually, we arrived at our beautiful apartment in Panama City Beach, and slowly settled in.

And then? Then: beer. On the balcony, and on the beach. A stone’s throw away from the sea and the sand, while the sun split the skies... oh my. I don’t mind saying it’s been kinda sorta stunning here. With Spring Break and March Madness mostly over, there was time and space to let everything we’ve seen and done here in the States to date sink in, and I’m glad of that. It was beginning to feel a bit surreal.

A few hours from the time of this writing, alas, we’ll be leaving Panama City Beach behind, and one of our party as well – though we’ll catch up with her on the back end of this trip. In the interim, the other half and I are heading to a lovely log cabin in the woods of upper Alabama, where by hook or by crook, there will be books!

Sadly there’s only been the one since last week’s Stephen King, but it was – how to describe it? – a bona fide beauty. A masterfully wrought political parable for the larger part, A Song For Arbonne by Guy Gavriel Kay also took in tragedy, romance, fate, friendship, and occasionally even farce. It couldn’t quite eclipse Tigana in my heart - I wonder sometimes if anything ever will - yet it’s certainly the best book I’ve read in a long time.

Do stay tuned for more thoughts of that sort shortly; I should have a review ready before I’m back in Britain. For the moment, my thanks to those of you who recommended it. And to everyone who plumped for The Lions of Al-Rassan instead, take heart in the fact that I abandoned several essential items of clothing in order to bring more books than I’d meant, among them that other Guy Gavriel Kay, which given the magnificence of A Song For Arbonne I’ve half a mind to read immediately.

On the other hand, A Game of Thrones is sat right there. Staring at me, even. The monster.

Speaking of which, how was the premiere of the second season? It kills me that I missed it, but maybe that’s for the best. Maybe this year I wait till I have all the episodes and watch them in one massive whack. Maybe that’ll give me time to read the bloody books I’ve brought all the way across the Atlantic...

Anyway! I’ll be back again next week with another of these sentimental Letters From America, but between times I’ve lined up another round of brilliant guest bloggers for you to look forward to. Remember to give them a warm welcome!

Show and Tell | What Every Speculative Scotsman Wants

Oh, hey! I turned 28 yesterday, by the way.

I was working, unfortunately -- or fortunately, as the case may be. Had a lovely day anyway. A buffet breakfast-come-lunch with my parents and my partner, an afternoon and evening of easy teaching, then last but not least a night of sleepy gift-giving.

So I thought the thing to do was blog a bit about what all everyone thought I'd enjoy. It's actually unspeakably illuminating. You can group all but a few of the gifts into three categories. The first is of course coffee, that best friend of bloggers since time immemorial.

 

Alongside a bottle of Tia Maria that I immediately "tested," the day also saw fit to deliver into my clutches some delicious Illy espresso, which I gather is the best ground coffee to be had without grinding the beans yourself. Truth be told, I wouldn't know; I've always balked at the cost.

Meanwhile, tying into the second category too, this thing, and I'll be filling it with a vast amount of the steaming stuff later today:

It's a thermos, Captain... but not as we know it! :)

The second of our three categories, then, involves a miscellany of things to take on holiday, because we're jetting off to the States shortly, the other half and I, and why not get ahead of the game? Speaking of which, another excellent gift: Carcassonne. 

I've loved Catan for years, playing online and off. Also Ticket to Ride. And Risk. I'm certainly no expert at any or all of the above, but sitting down to a good strategy game always makes me inordinately happy. Carcassonne is a German-style, tile-based board game that I've been hugely curious about for ages, so this will definitely be coming to America with me.

Last but not least... books! That is to say two review copies and one Amazon Marketplace purchase that just so happened to pop through the letterbox yesterday, thus in a weird way I think of them as gifts:

The Lions of Al-Rassan is a very timely reissue from Voyager, and I imagine it'll be excellent company on my international mission. The Steve Rasnic Tem - new from Solaris and very intriguing too - I aim to have read and reviewed in advance of my departure in a few short weeks. Meanwhile A Different Kingdom by Paul Kearney came highly recommended during last week's shenanigans with the Macht, and you may or may not ever hear me mention it again. It really depends.

That isn't everything either, but this post has already taken longer to put together than I'd imagined, so it'll have to do for today.

Obviously, I am a very happy camper, and incredibly grateful to everyone who cared. In part because of the goodies and the games and the gadgets, yes, but at this (late) stage in my life, it really is the thought that counts, more than any individual gift. And what thoughtful thoughts they were this year!

Show and Tell | To Me, From You

The thing of it is, I get so many books in the mail for potential review either here on TSS or elsewhere that, truth be told, I don't need to buy very many myself... which is a shame; I used to love book browsing.

As is, there's almost always something pressing, some buzz-worthy new thing I really should review, and when on rare occasion there isn't, I look to the tower of books To Be Read. Failing even that, there's the library in the spare room. I could comfortably spend the rest of my life reading all the overlooked delights secreted in my seven no-expense-spared Billy bookcases.

To be perfectly honest, I don't know that I need ever buy a book again. But needs are slippery things at the best of times, and wants belong in a whole different department. Make no mistake: I want to go mad on Amazon, on an almost daily basis. In my experience, keeping up with the blogosphere - as I attempt to - will do that to a dude. And try as I might to stop myself, every now and again... I slip.

And sometimes you folks make it real easy for me fall off the wagon.

Take the other day, for instance. Must have been the end of the financial quarter or something, because I woke up one morning to see emails from both Amazon.co.uk and Amazon.com alerting me to gift certificates to the value of about £50. Payment for purchases made in the last year through the Amazon Associate links I run under my book reviews - more, in truth, for your convenience than my possible profit.

So these monies came as something of a surprise. And what do you do with surprise money? You spend it! As I did... in all of about a half-hour after realising it existed. :)

I thought the thing to do would be to buy some of the books that I've spent 2011 ogling from afar; books I'd have loved to cover on the blog had review copies of each and every one come, and saved me from the decision to spend pennies on things I really don't need, as established.

From Amazon.com, then, I came home with these pretties:

And from Amazon.co.uk, these beauties were your surprise presents to me:

Plus postage, of course, and part of an awesome Christmas present I couldn't possibly mention here in case the other half sees it.

So I bought some books. That's the long and short of it. But rather than let this little indulgence go unmentioned, I wanted to post something here on the blog, basically to say thanks - sincerely, thank you - to everyone who's ever bought anything from either of the Amazons using the affiliate links I embed here on TSS.

Methinks Aurorarama's first up - it is such a gorgeous book - but hereabouts Guy Gavriel Kay has gotten to be a bit of a festive reading tradition, so the two parts of The Sarantine Mosaic are a sure thing, I should think, come the holidays.


Oh, it is the season to be jolly, isn't it? :)

Thank you all!

First Impressions | Beginning R. Scott Bakker

Around the blogosphere of late, there's been a moderate amount of excitement about the release of The White Luck Warrior, by R. Scott Bakker. Orbit kindly sent along a review copy my way a couple of weeks ago, which I duly wrote up for The BoSS before filing the poor, misbegotten thing away next to my similarly unread edition of The Judging Eye.

This I did because The White Luck Warrior is volume two, and The Judging Eye volume one, of the second of three inextricably connected trilogies. And as we all know by now, I don't tend to start such stories anywhere except the start. But some of the praise lavished upon The White Luck Warrior has been such that I simply had to give this series a shot. Shall we say anything Wert can enjoy, I can enjoy better?

Well, perhaps. But there are a few sure-fire ways to ensure any given book gets my attention, and among those, comparisons to the work of one Guy Gavriel Kay will win the day, as like as not. I can't recall now who drew the parallels aforementioned, or where, but drawn they were, and my interest was promptly piqued. So I went ahead and bought the EPUB edition of The Darkness That Comes Before from kobobooks.com, to read on my shiny new eee Pad Transformer. I stripped away the DRM - apologies to Adobe Technologies, Orbit, the author, et al, but I'm afraid I have my ideals - and imported the tiny resulting file to Aldiko, which has quickly, despite a fair few hitches, become my e-book reader of choice.

And then?

Well... then I fell a little bit in love.

Because I can see the rationale behind the Guy Gavriel Kay comparisons; I can quite understand why someone would make them, given Bakker's impeccable craftsmanship. The man, I'll say, is a writer's writer. His language is simply phenomenal: measured, evocative, and perfectly poised. Bakker ably achieves the picturesque in his prose without - as yet - having fallen victim to the purple. The text of The Darkness That Comes Before is a thing of beauty, truly.

Yet the complexity of the world of this book, this trilogy, this trilogy of trilogies, simply staggers. Confounds me, even. You'll recall I only fell a little bit in love with The Darkness That Comes Before; that would be why. I'd have gone all-in otherwise, except there's just so much to come to terms with.


And that too would be well, but for the fact Bakker seems little concerned with questions of accessibility, even in this, the first novel of series supposedly nine long volumes long. He seems dreadfully prone to digression... to lengthy musings on imagined histories and philosophies which, however informative, however pretty and pretty impressive - and they are - serve to stall the narrative before it's even begun to gain the sense of momentum I'm sorely missing.

There's a quote from a review on the Amazon.co.uk listing of The Darkness That Comes Before which quite encapsulates my feelings in this regard. So sayeth one Cynthia Ward:

"Bakker attempts to make his complex world clear to readers by filling the prologue and opening chapters with the names of characters, gods, cities, tribes, nations, religions, factions, and sorcery schools. For many readers, this approach will have the opposite effect of clarity. It's like demonstrating snowflake structure with a blizzard."

My progress with The Darkness That Comes Before has thus been slow, so far. I'm perhaps 150 pages in, merely a third of the way through, and that's after three reading sessions before bed on three consecutive nights... sessions which so often see evening turn to night and night return to morning. That hasn't happened with this one, not yet; though I can certainly see the day coming, if only Bakker would pick up the pace some. As is, The Darkness That Comes Before seems to be going nowhere fast, and I'm getting nowhere fast with it.

Yet Bakker's language is undeniably lovely; his prose so beautifully, beautifully hewn it's a real treat irrespective of what narrative it may or may not serve; and what little tale-telling there's been in this first book of The Prince of Nothing, I've been absolutely enraptured by. For instance the lengthy prologue, set a full 2000 years before the story's primary thrust (as I understand it), was phenomenal. If there's more of that, and I expect there will be, just as soon as all the foundation stones have been levered into place... well. I'll gladly cast the rest of my chips into the pot for that book, and make no mistake.


So onwards!

And with a little white luck, upwards too. Fingers firmly crossed...

What say you all on the subject of R. Scott Bakker, anyway? I understand he's a somewhat outspoken sort, and as I touched on at the outset, the excitement surrounding his latest publication has been palpable around and about the speculative aspect of the blogosphere. Yet he doesn't sell terribly well, does he?

Speaking of which, am I wrong to vaguely recall some talk of Bakker quitting the writing game entirely? I've only this little experience of his work, and already I think that'd be a desperately sad day for genre readers everywhere.

Blogging in the Year We Made Contact: Odyssey One (The Niche)

When I Iaunched The Speculative Scotsman in January, I'll admit: I had precious little understanding of exactly what variety of venture I'd begun. There wasn't a purpose in my mind more complex or carefully calculated than the vague notion of writing something about how much Tigana had moved me.

And yet, four months and more than a hundred posts in, here I remain. Blogging - and every day (though I fear that might change in the near future). And it's gone well; very, very well, by my own reckoning. Not to toot my own horn here, but TSS has attracted support from a wide array of publishers, professional authors and fellow bloggers that I hadn't dared hope might notice my humble scribblings. I couldn't be happier that that's the case. Their belief, their enthusiasm, lends credence to what I'm doing here - which, I should say, isn't churning out one review after another. There are reviews on the blog, certainly - and there always will be, never fear - but I have done, and will continue to do, whatever I'm able to delineate such articles with more diverse commentary and content.

In any case, the site's success has been a very pleasant surprise to me. One discerning colleague has even gone so far as to call me a Magical Scotsman. But I've a confession to make: this isn't the first time I've blogged.

I won't bore you or embarrass myself with the particulars, but yes, it's true. A few years ago, I kept another blog. And though that hardly moved the heavens and the earth, I didn't let its unfortunate failure discourage me. Between then and now, I kept writing. I reviewed video games for Ace Gamez. I was a blogless BlogCritic. I wrote articles for local newspapers and copy for a couple of adverts.

But all that's beside the point I mean to make today. Today, I'd like to make use of the perspective given me by the blogosphere's overwhelming reception of The Speculative Scotsman versus the veritable wet blanket which mercifully smothered The Other Site Which Must Not Be Named to underscore some of the more imperative differences between the blogosphere then and the blogosphere now. It's going to take a couple of posts, I'm afraid; I've a lot to say on this topic. And I'm certainly not alone in that.

Let's begin by considering the place of blogs in this enlightened era. From the entry dated March 12th in his tour journal on the wonderful Bright Weavings, Guy Gavriel Kay - author of the forthcoming Under Heaven, not to mention the very book that inspired The Speculative Scotsman - had this to say:

"One of the realities these days, and I had an email exchange with an entertainment editor for one major paper about this, is how brutally the space for books is being cut in newspapers and magazines – as in 70% in one case I just learned of yesterday.

"There's a serious fight among publishers and publicists for a diminishing amount of media real estate to 'cover' their books. (This is a reason for more of an online push.) Editors are ruefully aware that they are not doing an especially good job of covering what's being published, because they can't. And given that the size of any review is limited, the money paid is pretty trivial, and it takes time to read and carefully consider a book, the odds against (and this was the editor's point) thoughtful engagement with a novel and a well-written review are... extreme.

"In theory, online reviewers have no such space pressures or need to rush, but all sorts of other considerations come into play when you get to the book blogging world. Among others, it is widely noted that the Internet tends to steer us towards communities of the like-minded, and so you find a lot of online reviewing that is targeted to narrow genres or spheres of interest, and for many books, an appraisal that comes only from a specific perspective might be a problem.

"Having said that, it can also be an asset... someone targeting historical fiction or photography books or any other specific area is far more likely to alert people to titles in that field than any newspaper and to be well-grounded in that field. That's an upside. As I think I said earlier in this Journal, editors will speak, legitimately, of the role of the gatekeeper, the man or woman ensuring some measure of quality or appropriateness and credibility, and perhaps a push for revision or fine-tuning, to a review. But my sense is that credibility can arrive over time for some people online too, just from the craft and care they bring to their work.

"I have a general sense that the decline of newspapers is taking with it the importance of covering books, and it saddens me."

So Guy Gavriel Kay is taking us seriously. That's a hell of a start!

Moreover, his assertions regarding print media are of paramount importance. What with the collapse of the global economy and the increasingly less supplemental role of free, like-for-like internet resources, newspapers and magazines - which cost money to produce and must thus cost money to consume - are struggling to keep from going under. And in some, admittedly negligible, ways, it's our fault.

But there's no sense in crying over spilt milk. Except for a select few outlets, the print media is undeniably on the out. It's a sad fact; a fact nonetheless. And so the responsibility falls to us - amongst others of course - to bring news, views and reviews to those consumers who look now to the internet for such things, and by extension the blogosphere, where before they would buy a broadsheet or the latest glossy issue of SFX.

It was perhaps three years ago that I idled away my time with The Other Site Which Must Not Be Named, and then, though there were blogs - and no shortage of them - they catered, as Kay observes, to very narrow niches. In many respects, they still do. I would disagree, however, that "an appraisal that comes only from a specific perspective" is necessarily a problematic thing. Practically speaking, as amateur, not to mention unpaid writers, bloggers are only able to devote so much of their time to creating content for their blogs - by and large, they also have lives to lead, and must somehow, between blog posts, make enough money to pay for those lives.

However, such considerations aren't what interest me here. The most significant problem with my blog of yore was, I think, that I didn't delineate its concerns clearly enough; I had hoped that somehow, if I wrote a little about everything, people who wanted to read about any one of those things would somehow discover it. That, um... that didn't pan out. And it's easy, in retrospect, to see why. The internet is pretty huge, after all, and given that there's so very much of it - and so very much of it that doesn't interest you at all - in order to find those things you are interested in, you have to look for them. Surfing the internet is, I feel, an increasingly outdated notion. Perhaps it once had some relevance, when the web itself a more humble endeavour, but we are no longer carried along on a great wave: we drive that wave, whether by plugging a keyword into Google or following links and the like from sites we already know scratch our particular itches. Sometimes we come across something new, something that surprises us; an obscure alleyway that leads away from the thoroughfares we travel along each day in the unique online experience that we have each created for ourselves.

That bloggers tend to define the boundaries of their interests and address as thoroughly as possible those concerns is both practical and purposeful, then. And further, when you read a review of a fantasy novel written by an experienced fantasy reader, does that not lend the review that much more credibility? Certainly for those readers interested in a particular genre, criticism originating from like-minded perspectives must surely hit home more directly than any general review. An avowed fantasy reader understands first-hand the tropes of fantasy; a print journalist, meanwhile, whose purview is likely more encompassing - no-one hires, let's be a frank, different reviewers for each genre of literature - might well grasp the broad strokes, but miss the finer points of such fiction. To return, one last time, to that old chestnut, how many glowing reviews of The Left Hand of God did you see in the papers? Give that book to a blogger with any experience of such narratives, however, and... well, we all know how I feel about Paul Hoffman's first genre novel.

Time, I think, to tie a pretty little bow on this first installment of Blogging in the Year We Made Contact. But before we do, what have we learned? I'll start us off. Conclusion number one: the blogosphere has, at least in the three years I've been active (and inactive) in it, become an increasingly legimate source of criticism. And conclusion number two: though it's a fact that most blogs cater to niche audiences, their narrow focus need not be a cause for concern. Indeed, perhaps it's a cause for celebration.

For my own part, I don't know that The Speculative Scotsman would have reached nearly so many readers had I just been a Scotsman who blogged. That I am a blogging Scotsman with an interest in speculative fiction has introduced me to a wonderful, lively and thoughtful community of others with similar interests. You lot!

Readers, you really are the bee's knees.

Cover Identity: Ysabel & The Sarantine Mosaic by Guy Gavriel Kay

Late last month - though after my week it feels like a lot longer ago - I posted what I hoped would be the first in a new series of recurring features here on The Speculative Scotsman. For the inaugural Cover Identity, I took a look at the striking new covers for Simon and Schuster's re-issues of The Uglies Trilogy by Scott Westerfeld.

And I think it went well. Reader response was uniformly positive. Moreover, it was loads of fun to write, and it's important not to lose sight of that amid the flood of obligations that arise from publishers and publicity reps starting to take the blog seriously. It's a great problem to have, don't get me wrong - I wouldn't trade all these lovely books for all the tea in China (and this from a gentleman who enjoys his Earl Grey) - but it's nice, nevertheless, to write something I don't feel I have to.

Long story short, expect Cover Identity to join the ranks of semi-regular posts on TSS, alongside the likes of Opinionated Speculations, Castmonger, From Your Blogosphere Correspondent and The Bag o' Speculative Swag.

In fact, here: have another...

***

Recently, Voyager released images of the new cover which will be adorning their April paperback reissue of TSS favourite Guy Gavriel Kay's 2008 World Fantasy Award-winner Ysabel. The old art's on the left; the new on the right.

vs.

Well, I know which artwork I prefer.

I'll say this: the landscape in the background of the new cover is gorgeous, and the distortion effect layered across the sky is spot-on, like handmade paper. The problem - for me, at least - is the lady in the foreground. Now sure, she's cute, I won't deny that, but she just looks too... real. Clearly, the artist has cottoned on to that fact too - the glowing light around her outline is surely supposed to help her blend better with the otherworldly art behind her, but for my money, it's not nearly enough. She still clashes.

All this brings to mind a novel I read not so long ago. The Red Tree by Caitlin R. Kiernan, which you can read my review of here, suffered from much the same problem: beautiful cover art unfortunately offset by the presence of an anonymous hottie. Now this isn't a problem on the same scale as say, random hooded swordsmen, but it seems a very common tack to take when designing covers in this day and age; Photoshop something with breasts onto a piece of art and the smart money says it'll sell better. What an indictment of our hypersexualised, phallogocentric society that is...

Thankfully, I already have my copy of Ysabel, and let's face it: in the three years since its publication, the vast majority of Kay's established readership will likewise have bought an edition of this stellar novel.

The new art, then, is not for us. Guy Gavriel Kay fans do not need another copy of Ysabel. But divisive though it may be - and there are certainly some who prefer the redesigned cover - let's take the long view for a moment. There's every chance this new cover will sell Ysabel to a reader who's never had the pleasure of Tigana or A Song for Arbonne. And readers who otherwise wouldn't give sprawling historical fantasy a chance picking Ysabel up regardless is a fine thing indeed, is it not?

Besides, much as I appreciate it, the old cover art was rather abstract, wasn't it? Sort of.. the Mona Lisa's chin smeared in Gothic typescript.

Meanwhile, in the US of A, Roc - the one Penguin imprint to rule them all - have teased new artwork for their reissues of The Sarantine Mosaic.

vs.

Substantially improved, no?

Larry Rostant's artwork for Kay's reissues in the States continues to floor me. In fact, were it not for the incredible clockwork cover of the 10th anniversary edition of Tigana I own, I don't know that I'd have necessarily taken a chance on it last Winter (in the long-lost days of yore, before all this bloggery began).

vs.

For both Sailing to Sarantium and Lord of Emperors, Rostant has employed an approach that reminds me of a glorious few intricate, hand-stitched wall hangings I've seen. Or, indeed, a mosaic.

And did you notice? They fit together, too.

I do appreciate that in a series; not only matching spines but cover art that fits together into a singular thing as well as serving perfectly well in its own right.

But that's enough bumbling for one day.

Voyager is publishing the new edition of Ysabel on April 29th here in the UK, while in the US, Roc are scheduled to release the two uber-beautiful volumes of The Sarantine Mosaic discussed above in September and October. I don't know that I honestly have the patience, but I may very well have to consider holding off on getting copies of those much-recommended books till then...

Of course, ultimately, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, so I'd love to hear your opinions on all this new Guy Gavriel Kay artwork. For instance, is there anyone out there who doesn't own Ysabel and might now consider purchasing it - at least in part because of the new cover art?

Excerpt Emporium: Kraken by China Mieville

Well, I'm back.

We'll have a proper catch up tomorrow, once I've had a chance to find my feet - get talking about the reading I did and didn't do while I was away, all that. For the moment, I wanted to point you all in the direction of the latest extract to hit Pan Macmillan's site. It's for none other than Kraken, China Mieville's hugely anticipated - and not just by me - forthcoming dark fantasy. Here's a quick sample to whet your appetitite:

The sea is full of saints. You know that? You know that: you’re a big boy.

The sea’s full of saints and it’s been full of saints for years. Since longer than anything. Saints were there before there were even gods. They were waiting for them, and they’re still there now.

Saints eat fish and shellfish. Some of them catch jellyfish and some of them eat rubbish. Some saints eat anything they can find. They hide under rocks; they turn themselves inside out; they spit up spirals. There’s nothing saints don’t do.

Make this shape with your hands. Like that. Move your fingers. There, you made a saint. Look out, here comes another one! Now they’re fighting! Yours won.

There aren’t any big corkscrew saints any more, but there are still ones like sacks and ones like coils, and ones like robes with flapping sleeves. What’s your favourite saint? I’ll tell you mine. But wait a minute, first, do you know what it is makes them all saints? They’re all a holy family, they’re all cousins. Of each other, and of . . . you know what else they’re cousins of?

That’s right. Of gods.

Alright now. Who was it made you? You know what to say.

Who made you?

Now that's a voice I've dearly missed. Is there any writer quite so distinctive as China Mieville, I wonder?

Click through to read the whole excerpt.

Here's to Kraken, a mere two months out at this point. You already know I'm excited - the preview I published on The Speculative Scotsman in the blog's first few foundling weeks makes that quite clear, I think.

 

Between this and Guy Gavriel Kay's incredible Under Heaven, tell me this isn't a great time to be reading speculative fiction.