Showing posts with label Mark Charan Newton. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mark Charan Newton. Show all posts

Wednesday, 5 November 2014

Book Review | Retribution by Mark Charan Newton

 

Having just solved a difficult case in his home city of Tryum, Sun Chamber Officer Lucan Drakenfeld and his associate Leana are ordered to journey to the exotic city of Kuvash in Koton, where a revered priest has gone missing. When they arrive, they discover the priest has already been found—or at least parts of him have.

But investigating the unusual death isn't a priority for the legislature of Kuvash; there's a kingdom to run, a census to create and a dictatorial Queen to placate. Soon Drakenfeld finds that he is suddenly in charge of an investigation in a strange city, whose customs and politics are as complex as they are dangerous.

Kuvash is a city of contradictions; wealth and poverty exist uneasily side-by-side and behind the rich façades of gilded streets and buildings, all levels of depravity and decadence are practised.

When several more bodies are discovered mutilated and dumped in a public place, Drakenfeld realizes there's a killer at work who seems to delight in torture and pain. With no motive, no leads and no suspects, he feels like he's running out of options. And in a city where nothing is as it seems, seeking the truth is likely to get him killed...
***

The laid-back detective drama of Drakenfeld marked a propitious departure for Mark Charan Newton: an assured move from the weird and sometimes wonderful fantasy with which he had made his name to a tale of mystery and alt-history not dissimilar to C. J. Sansom's Shardlake stories.

But with all-out war in the offing—in large part because of Drakenfeld's discoveries at the end of the text so titled—and a serial killer torturing and slaughtering some of most prominent people in the kingdom of Koton, the darkness of the Legends of the Red Sun series is back; a change of pace Newton paves the way for on the first page of his new book.

"In over thirty years of life, a decade of which has been spent as an Officer of the Sun Chamber," Lucan Drakenfeld remarks, "the world has long since robbed me of my limitless optimism." (p.1) To be sure, he appears a pretty positive protagonist compared to grimdark Princes like this year's Jalan and Yarvi, yet the events of Retribution are still to take their toll—on its hero and, indeed, its reader.

Friday, 8 November 2013

Book Review | Drakenfeld by Mark Charan Newton


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The monarchies of the Royal Vispasian Union have been bound together for two hundred years by laws maintained and enforced by the powerful Sun Chamber. As a result, nations have flourished but corruption, deprivation and murder will always find a way to thrive...

Receiving news of his father’s death, Sun Chamber Officer Lucan Drakenfeld is recalled home to the ancient city of Tryum and rapidly embroiled in a mystifying case. The King’s sister has been found brutally murdered, her beaten and bloody body discovered in a locked temple. With rumours of dark spirits and political assassination, Drakenfeld has his work cut out for him trying to separate superstition from certainty. His determination to find the killer quickly makes him a target as the underworld gangs of Tryum focus on this new threat to their power.

Embarking on the biggest and most complex investigation of his career, Drakenfeld soon realises the evidence is leading him towards a motive that could ultimately bring darkness to the whole continent. The fate of the nations is in his hands.

***

Once upon a time, fantasy was fun.

It still has its moments, I suppose, but broadly speaking, these are fewer and farther between in 2013 than in previous years. Though I would argue that it is at or perhaps even past its peak, the mark of grimdark is now embossed upon the genre. Where we used to delight in dreams of dalliances with dragons, our nightmarish narratives now revel in death instead. Today's foremost fantasy tends to traffic in disgust and duplicity rather than the beauty and truth of its youth.

Mark Charan Newton's nostalgic new novel is immensely refreshing in that respect. The several evenings I spent reading it were so perfectly pleasant that I struggle to recall the last fantasy novel I felt such unabashed fondness for.

Don't mistake me: Drakenfeld has its darkness. Its plot revolves around the murder of a royal, and there are several other deaths as it progresses. We witness few of these firsthand, however. Instead we see the scenes of said crimes from a detached detective's perspective — a detective who definitely does not relish the more disturbed elements of his profession. In a nice nod, a number of Drakenfeld's friends ask after this aspect of his character; they wonder, in short, why he is so soft, as if an attraction to violence of the visceral variety should be the norm now.
"Whatever we plan, I'd prefer it if we could keep the killing to a minimum."
"As week a disposition as ever, eh, Drakenfeld?" Callimar chuckled and held his arms wide like a bargaining merchant. "We'll try. But sometimes a little blood is unavoidable." (p.377)
Sometimes, sure. And indeed, Newton's new book is not what you'd call bloodless. But violence, the author argues, isn't the answer to every question.

I say well said.

But we're getting ahead of ourselves. Who is this character in any case? Well, like his father before him, our protagonist Lucan Drakenfeld is an Officer of the Sun Chamber: an independent organisation which essentially polices the eight nations of Vispasia during an era of peace and prosperity. He and his companion Leana have been occupied on the continent for a period of years when a messenger alerts Drakenfeld to the fact that his father has died of an apparent heart attack.

So home he goes; back to Tryum, ostensibly to attend to Calludian's remaining affairs. Whilst there, though, Drakenfeld becomes convinced that there's more to his father's passing than meets the eye — and as he's considering this quandary, one of the most significant figures in the city is killed. As the only Officer of the Sun Chamber in the area, he's called to the scene immediately... which tells a tall tale if ever there was one, of a murder most mysterious:
"Let me summarise to be clear: around midnight, the king's sister Lacanta was found with her throat cut. The weapon is not here. None of her jewellery has been removed and she has — I will assume for now — not been tampered with. The temple was locked and sealed, and the key left in the door, on the inside. There's no other way into the temple unless one was a god; no way out, apart from through those doors." (pp.66-67)
Nothing about this killing is simple. Still, after a personal plea from the King, who very much misses his sister, Drakenfeld agrees to look into it. In time, his investigations will take him from one side of Tryum to the other, from the slums of poor Plutum to the opulence of Optryx, the rich district. Initially, everyone is a suspect, but eventually Drakenfeld determines that the crime could only have been committed by someone close to the King's sister. By one of the several senators in love with the lovely Lacanta, perhaps, or even — Polla forbid the thought — a member of the remaining Royal family.

If the stakes weren't already great, the longer Drakenfeld spends looking into the locked room mystery that is Lucanta's killing, the bigger the body count becomes. Furthermore, it soon becomes clear that the case could have knock-on consequences for every nation of Vispasia, because about the city there are mutterings "about foreigners, about borders, about the glories of old — and of military expansion." (p.114) There seems a real desire to go to war again — to take territory and glory by force, of course — and unseating someone senior, assuming someone senior needs unseating, is likely to rouse an increasingly republican rabble.

Our man can't afford to concern himself with that — a murderer is a murderer, whatever his or her standing in the public eye — but he will have to tread very carefully indeed. Which brings me to my key complaint about Drakenfeld: Drakenfeld himself. One the one hand, he's a convincing individual: by using his homecoming as an adult to neatly reframe his former feelings for his father and an old flame, Newton develops his character absolutely adequately. Alas, he also comes across as somewhat bumbling, hardly ever evidencing the insidious intelligence requisite for people in his position, such that one wonders how he ever became an Officer of the esteemed Sun Chamber.

That Drakenfeld and the persons of interest he interviews appear unaware of his failings makes this all the more frustrating:
Tomorrow was the Blood Races. Senator Veron had sent a message for me saying that he would meet me in the morning and walk me to the Stadium of Lentus; I realised this would give me the perfect chance to speak to the other senators who were intimate with Lacanta. I would have to think of subtle ways to press them. Certainly, they would fear being quizzed by the Sun Chamber, but I wanted them to think they were not under suspicion so they opened up. (p.268)
I'll only say that these "subtle ways" are hardly Columbo-calibre, yet almost every subject opens up as if they were being interviewed by the great detective himself.

Aside this dissonance, I enjoyed the novel an awful lot. I admired its restraint and appreciated its laid-back pace: it's a slow burner, sure, but when it catches alight, it does burn bright. And though I recall feeling crestfallen upon learning that Drakenfeld would be a mystery, mostly, I'm pleased (and not a little relieved) to report that the secondary world Newton sets said thread against allows for the author to build another of the brilliant cities that have helped make his fantasy fiction distinctive. Tryum's Roman-influenced architecture is splendid, all "colonnades, fountains, market gardens, statues [and] frescoes," (p.23) whilst its cluster of cultures recalls the vibrancy of Villjamur:
Preachers leered or chanted from the relative sanctuary of decorative archways, a dozen dialects rising to my ears, whilst passers-by lit incense to offer to small statues of their gods. The sheer variety of people in Tryum was mesmerising. From clothing to foods to the decorations on clay pots, one could always walk the length of the continent in a single street. (p.28)
Involving as all this is, Drakenfeld's speculative elements are essentially secondary to the murder mystery the novel revolves around; though they add depth and texture to the tale, they have no narrative impact. Which is not to suggest Newton's latest is lacking in that regard. Far from it. But be aware that this series seems more interested in the mundane in the final summation than the magical. Drakenfeld is apt to satisfy Falco fans as much or more than genre fiction devotees like me — and I had a pretty terrific time with it. Like as not, you'll find lots to like too.

***

Drakenfeld
by Mark Charan Newton

UK Publication: October 2013, Tor

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Amazon.co.uk / The Book Depository

Or get the Kindle edition

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Wednesday, 12 October 2011

Book Review | The Book of Transformations by Mark Charan Newton


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A new and corrupt Emperor seeks to rebuild the ancient structures of Villjamur to give the people of the city hope in the face of great upheaval and an oppressing ice age. But when a stranger called Shalev arrives, empowering a militant underground movement, crime and terror becomes rampant.

The Inquisition is always one step behind, and military resources are spread thinly across the Empire. So Emperor Urtica calls upon cultists to help construct a group to eliminate those involved with the uprising, and calm the populace. But there’s more to The Villjamur Knights than just phenomenal skills and abilities - each have a secret that, if exposed, could destroy everything they represent.

Investigator Fulcrom of the Villjamur Inquisition is given the unenviable task of managing the Knights’, but his own skills are tested when a mysterious priest, who has travelled from beyond the fringes of the Empire, seeks his help. The priest’s existence threatens the church, and his quest promises to unweave the fabric of the world.

And in a distant corner of the Empire, the enigmatic cultist Dartun Súr steps back into this world, having witnessed horrors beyond his imagination. Broken, altered, he and the remnants of his cultist order are heading back to Villjamur. And all eyes turn to the Sanctuary City, for Villjamur’s ancient legends are about to be shattered...

***

Has ever the world needed a hero as much as it does today?

It certainly seems that way. With yet another summer in cinema packed to the rafters with blockbuster comic book adaptations and - few and far between them - original creations to champion now behind us, the notion that we are living in a new golden age for the superhero gains markedly more credence with every passing season.

Of course, as it was, so shall it ever be, and indeed, there's always been a hero or heroes of some description in every species of fiction for as long as there's been fiction; in every form and in every genre, to one extent or another, the hero has his place - his place, or hers - yet only rarely is this commonality examined in any depth. Few texts truly engage with what it means to be a hero: with what costs there are; what sacrifices the hero must make, whether for the greater good or some less selfless intent; and ultimately what good is wrought by heroism, and which ills. With the third novel in The Legends of the Red Sun series, Nottingham novelist and self-professed whisky aficionado Mark Charan Newton does exactly that... asks and to varying degrees answers these very questions, and in so doing illuminates an aspect of narrative so wholly subsumed that one does not often stop to consider it.

The Book of Transformations' agenda is foregrounded from the get-go. "This was no time to be a hero," it begins. "Under the multi-coloured banners of the sanctuary city of Villjamur, under the reign of a new emperor, and amidst a bitter northerly wind reaching far through the knotted streets, something was about to start." (p.1) Namely, an uprising. For Villjamur has long been a city cleaved by class, with "the refugees outside the city gates starving and uncared for, the Cavesiders below, oppressed and desperate, fighting for equality and their right to live. Villjamur - a city where the needs are the many are ignored for the comfort of the few." (p.236) But now the many have a hero, equal parts Robin Hood and Guy Fawkes. She calls herself Shalev, and she means to transform the impoverished proletariat into an army fit to dethrone the new emperor, Urtica (same as the old emperor) and so forth disrupt the power structure that has held forth in Villjamur since before it was Villjamur.

However, if the working man has his hero, then so too must the more monied. And never a class to be outdone, why stop at just the one when it is as easy to engineer three? Thus the Villjamur Knights are not born but made; “manufactured” (p.150) by cultists under the emperor's thumb to raise morale and alleviate various anxieties amongst the upper-crust. Oh, and purportedly to protect the innocent too... though it is not long before the Knights come to wonder who in this world is truly innocent, anyway.

Of these three Council-sponsored heroes - Lan and Tane and Vuldon - the lattermost pair are rendered, I fear, rather simplistically. Essentially Catman and The Incredible Bulk, Tane is a bad-mannered cad seeking from his new role redemption, if he seeks anything at all, while Vuldon is "The Legend fading into legend," (p.199) an old-timer and former vigilante long since fallen from grace. Only Lan is more than the sum of her parts; assuredly Newton spends a great deal longer establishing and embellishing her character than he does with either of the other Knights. With are with Lan, come to that, in advance of either of her transformations, for before she becomes a hero, she must first become herself.

As to that, the sheer volume of talk amongst the community built like ramparts around genre fiction in advance of The Book of Transformations' release painted the text as progressive in a way I am unconvinced that it is, in the final summation; at least no more than is usual for a new novel by Mark Charan Newton. Needless to say, Lan is a transgender woman: biologically a man when she is introduced, some kindly cultists shortly offer her their expertise, and though this sequence in particular - wherein Lan is whisked away to a secret island idyll for her first and foremost transformation - is among the most memorable of all those chronicled in the third volume of The Legends of the Red Sun, I do not know that thereafter Newton digs more than superficially into the myriad issues raised.

Certainly one must be mindful to discuss such questions respectfully, when one discusses them at all - and I wholeheartedly commend the author for his willingness in this sense - but I dare say Newton treads too lightly across this territory, otherwise largely unexplored in even fantasy, a genre perfectly poised to tackle such difficult issues whether by way of allegory or fantasy’s inherent exoticism. Cautiously and self-consciously he vouchsafes perspectives on Lan's gender and sexuality both black and white, yet very rarely grey: Lan is either a good person, true to herself, and that’s all that matters, or a “weird bitch” (p.339) in dire need of a good stabbing. Had Newton dared to muddy the waters some, I expect those boundaries that he breaches in The Book of Transformations may have had a more lasting effect on the larger landscape, and doubtless more import in terms of this particular narrative.

Nevertheless, Lan is blow for blow the most interesting character in all The Legends of the Red Sun to date. From her aforementioned physiological ambiguities to her latter-day role as a sock-puppet hero, and from the mystery of her benefactors to her easy-does-it romantic entanglement with another of Newton's narrators - for alas, returning from Nights of Villjamur and its successor City of Ruin in a more substantial capacity comes Investigator Fulcrom, a wet blanket if ever there was one in this series - Lan is assaulted on all sides by conflicts large and small which work as one to instil in her chapters a sense of momentum, and meaning. She is too imbued with a certain authority, of which there is a woeful lack in The Legends of the Red Sun's extended cast as I recall it; admittedly a spineless lot. Thus, those judgements she makes and those decisions she takes feel both meaningful and in line with the internal logic Newton establishes for her character, such as to cast The Book of Transformations' other primary protagonist in somewhat stark relief.

Next to Lan, Fulcrom – a pallid, incompetent Professor X to the Knights’ superhero trio – seems a squib, unconvincing and indecisive at the best of times and at the worst, little more than an overwrought, moping mouthpiece for the author’s own opinions. This, I think, is an unfortunate legacy for The Book of Transformations to have inherited from its predecessors. Lan is a bold step forward, after all, away from the transparent characters and perfunctory plot threads that served to undermine various aspects Nights of Villjamur and City of Ruin, but Fulcrom paces only backwards.

Nor, disappointingly, does Newton give Shalev more dimensions than just the one. Objectively speaking, she seems more an advocate of the greater good than any of the three government-sponsored puppets, yet but for a token allowance – very occasional chapters in the company of Caley, a young Caveside troublemaker – the reader’s allegiances are guided to be in in line with the Knights rather than Villjamur's very own Spartacus, who at one point declares, against her own modus operandi, that her legion of devotees should get their murder on, quick-smart like... to which horrific proclamation no-one really bats an eye (see p.161).

The Book of Transformations has its problems, then: several hopelessly ineffectual characters, moments where Newton’s apparent need for immediate progression rails violently against the internal logic he has only just established, and a tale about heroes and heroism which - though appealing, and powerful in its way - serves to obscure, if not entirely obfuscate the larger narrative in play through The Legends of the Red Sun: of a high fantasy kingdom set to by ghastly, Mieville-esque monsters from a separate but connected plane of existence. In that sense, short the last act – when all at once it all comes together, and not before time – The Book of Transformations seems a digression in the grander scheme of this purported quartet; a break from the pressing business at hand.

And perhaps that was the point. City of Ruin, for all its saving graces, was in many respects a retread of Nights of Villjamur; The Book of Transformations, meanwhile, stands apart from either volume, and though it suffers from problems of its own in addition to an assortment of issues lamentably inherited from the earlier novels of The Legends of the Red Sun, by clearing away some of the lustrous clutter billowing about this world like all the Boreal Archipelago’s litter, Newton is able to hone in on a story that stands well enough on its own, underpinned by a situation ably established in the erstwhile. This foundation gives rises to some particularly gripping elements of narrative and moreover characters – specifically Lan – that are resonant in and of themselves; heroes of their own penny dreadfuls.

The Book of Transformations, then, is the calm before the storm – and if the monumental last act is any sort of indicator, what a storm it’s set to be! But what comes next is not now the point, the whole point and nothing but the point. And there is, I think, a great deal to be said for that.

***

The Book of Transformations
by Mark Charan Newton

UK Publication: June 2011, Tor

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Saturday, 12 June 2010

And Unto All Good Things, An End

From the reviews of Nights of Villjamur on Monday and City of Ruin on Friday through the behemoth of an interview than ran in two parts across Tuesday and Thursday, not forgetting Mark's guest post on six of his literary influences and the giveaway of a signed proof, it's been quite a week, hasn't it?

I tend to suspect there've been a good few new visitors to The Speculative Scotsman in the interim, too. Well... I say suspect, I do have Google Analytics you know, and the hits - shall we just say the click-through rate has been astonishing? I don't suppose it's such a great surprise. Mark's been pimping the articles every which way, gentleman scholar that he is; near-enough every article has been retweeted to hell and back (thanks guys!); Pat from the ubiquitous Fantasy Hotlist posted a link, much to my surprise; and the interview made it into SF Signal's daily tidbits round-up.

So to all those of you who've just now found the blog, a very warm welcome; it's a pleasure to have you here. I do hope you'll stay a while. And in case you're wondering, I do write about other stuff too. Next week, for instance: video games (one in particular), Seamus Cooper's dead dog blues, my thoughts on Brandon Sanderson's The Way of Kings excerpt, and more. Yes, more! What a busy little blogger I am...

But let's not get ahead of ourselves. I hope you'll agree, the first themed week on TSS has been a huge success - so much so that I'm tempted to make it a themed month, but alas, Mark has only written so many books. Speaking of whom, I owe a huge debt of gratitude to the man. Let's be honest here: what with the interview, the giveaway and the guest post, he did a whole lot of the heavy lifting. So thanks, Mark. Same bat-time, same bat-place next year, when book three of The Legends of the Red Sun comes out, alright?

In case you missed any of the shenanigans, here's a handy little collection of links to all the stories from the past week:

Book Review: City of Ruin by Mark Charan Newton

And that's not even including the giveaway posts - nor this little round-up!

Sadly, though, that's that. But it's been heaps of fun, hasn't it?

So who's up for another themed thingummy? What with The Passage coming out shortly, I'm rather of a mind to get a bit of a vampire weekend on the go. All I have to do is get through the rest of that beast of a book first...

Friday, 11 June 2010

A Winner Have We

It's been a long week, I know. An exciting one here on The Speculative Scotsman, needless to say, but for those of you who aren't Mark or me, rest easy. It's nearly over now, and I've news that should make one lucky sonofagun's Friday night that much more palatable.

So cast your minds back to Tuesday. There was a certain... giveaway. Of a signed US proof copy of Nights of Villjamur I've been looking after for long enough I had started to get territorial over it. Well, much as it pains me to part with this gorgeous, strictly limited ARC, it's time, I think, what with the celebrations drawing to a close, to pull a name out of the hat.

While I do that, here's the question I asked:

"One of the most remarkable things about Nights of Villjamur is its titular setting, a fantastic Mecca of a place rife with corruption, crime and culture. In City of Ruin, however, much of the action takes place in another city on the Boreal Archipelago. What is that city called?"

 
The correct answer, of course, was Villiren. And kudos to you all: pretty much everyone got it - that is except those of you who sent me an empy email. There were entries from the world over. From Latvia to the Netherlands, England to Croatia, America to Canada to Australia and on... not forgetting my own wee country.
 
But there can be only one, I'm afraid to say, and the lucky so-and-so who's going to be taking the lovely prize off my hands is none other than...
 
Sven Declerck of Belgium
 
Which is where the best beers live! I'll be in touch shortly, Sven. To demand crates of Kwak, that is...
 
To everyone else, better luck next time - and thanks for playing!

Book Review: City of Ruin by Mark Charan Newton


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"Villiren: a city of sin that is being torn apart from the inside. Hybrid creatures shamble through shadows and barely human gangs fight turf wars for control of the streets.

"Amidst this chaos, Commander Brynd Lathraea, commander of the Night Guard, must plan the defence of Viliren against a race that has broken through from some other realm and already slaughtered hundreds of thousands of the Empire's people.

"When a Night Guard soldier goes missing, Brynd requests help from the recently arrived Inquisitor Jeryd. He discovers this is not the only disapearance the streets of Villiren. It seems that a serial killer of the most horrific kind is on the loose, taking hundreds of people from their own homes. A killer that cannot possibly be human.

"The entire population of Villiren must unite to face an impossible surge of violent and unnatural enemies or the city will fall. But how can anyone save a city that is already a ruin?"

***

For centuries, the traditional greeting between strangers and passing acquaintances across the length and breadth of the Boreal archipelago has been a respectful utterance of "Sele of Jamur," but the time of the Jamur empire has passed, and it did not go quietly into the good night. The Emperor is dead - long live the new Emperor, Urtica, a power-hungry former councilor whose machinations have driven the rightful heirs into exile; a door has opened to another world from which pour countless legions of alien creatures with dark designs on the denizens of a city already on brought to its knees by crime and corruption. Brynd Lathraea, Commander of the Night Guard, arrives in Villiren to organise a last-ditch defense against an impossible force only to find its populace unmoved by their impending extinction, while Inquisitor Rumex Jeryd, another newcomer, finds himself caught up in a disturbing serial murder investigation. But because people don't know what to say to one another, who to trust, no-one's saying anything, and the bodies start to pile up. It is a time of unrest, a time of war... and the end has only just begun.

Nearly a year to the day since Nights of Villjamur, rising star Mark Charan Newton returns to the world he painted so memorably in the first book of The Legends of the Red Sun with a sequel which outdoes that breakthrough fantasy in almost every sense. And that's saying something. We're talking about a book which attracted great acclaim from all comers here; an author whose fledgling efforts have seen him compared with a who's-who of genre greats. An unfortunately contrived last act somewhat dampened my own enthusiasm for Nights of Villjamur: an overabundance of convenient twists and characters acting against the internal logic Newton had established for them meant that I came away from it thinking... good, yes, absolutely - but truly great? Not quite.

Nevertheless, you have to allow for a little awkwardness in the opening acts of such grand sagas as The Legends of the Red Sun promises to be, and whatever its failings, Nights of Villjamur hinted at some incredible things to come. City of Ruin, I'm pleased to say, delivers on near enough every one of its predecessor's promises. Its characters act in character for the duration; their dialogue is snappier and significantly smoother; the action is bigger, better and more satisfying by all accounts; and the grand scheme of this ambitious quintet is revealed at last, to tremendous effect.

The first lesson City of Ruin teaches readers is to expect the unexpected. Though far from its only flourish, the titular setting of Nights of Villjamur was surely its greatest strength: a grand and subversive imperial capital alive with spectacle and intrigue. Having constructed such a fantastic canvas for the epic movements of The Legends of the Red Sun to take place upon, you might presume Newton would return to Villjamur in City of Ruin, yet the action herein takes place in another location entirely: a seething city on the very fringes of the Empire's grasp where gangs rule the roost. In and of itself, Villiren is not quite the equal of Villjamur, but the author broadens his focus still further to take in the larger landscape of the Boreal archipelago, and together with the crumbling city, the world is a more vibrant and fascinating place than before. Indeed, it is a dying earth, a motif only alluded to in Nights of Villjamur which pushes through the crowded irens and bustling frontlines to the fore in book two.

You get the distinct sense, in fact, that Newton has let loose his imagination in City of Ruin. From a cave-monster made of coins to a floating island a la Hayao Miyazaki through a great behemoth on the battlefield amalgamated from fallen bodies, the set-pieces here seem weirder and more wonderful than any in book one of The Legends of the Red Sun. Newton has spoken of how his creative wings were clipped during the composition of Nights of Villjamur, and commercially speaking I suppose the restraint makes a certain amount of sense. Herein, however, having achieved that mainstream success, he spreads them far and wide, and it's a joy to behold. City of Ruin is darker, harder and more dramatic than its predecessor. Those issues Newton had to tiptoe around before he addresses head-on this time, and it's a breath of fresh air to see a genre that so often shies away from the genuinely relevant questions of our age in favour of counterpoints abstracted by imagination deal with the likes of homophobia, domestic abuse, corruption and poverty.

City of Ruin is a big book of big ideas and big issues. It's fun and it's frank, difficult yet easy to swallow. It takes all the good of Nights of Villjamur and makes it great, whilst relegating the majority of that novel's problems to the farthest margins. There's still little clunk from time to time - a "dead corpse" is the worst expository offender, and a few allusions to the work of Jack Vance and China Mieville are so blunt as to take you out of the experience - but overwhelmingly, book two of The Legends of the Red Sun is a roundly more rewarding and polished endeavour than its predecessor. City of Ruin stands as a sterling example of modern epic fantasy with a twist of the new old weird that realises the incredible potential of Mark Charan Newton's earlier work with style, panache and glorious imagination.

***

City of Ruin
by Mark Charan Newton
June 2010, Tor UK

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IndieBound / The Book Depository

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Thursday, 10 June 2010

The Speculative Spotlight on Mark Charan Newton (Part 2)

Mark Charan Newton. It seems like wherever you look, he's there! He's in the cupboard under the stairs, he's between the daffodils in the garden and he's a distant figure silhouetted against the horizon in the wheat fields you drive by on the way to work. It beggars belief, really. You'd think there were several of him or something.

Well, he's also here, on The Speculative Scotsman, talking to me - or at least, one of him is. Would the real Mark Charan Newton please stand up?

If you haven't read the first half of my interview with Mark, in which we talked Twitter, forum trolls and blogging turn-offs, amongst a whole heap of other stuff, go on and get caught up. If you have, drop me an email with your name and address and I'll get your biscuit in the mail.

Enough of this madness. It's part two of the interview, everyone!

***


A year ago, Mark, as you said earlier, no one had heard of you, and I’ve heard it said that because of your relative obscurity, your creative wings were clipped with NIGHTS OF VILLJAMUR. There were pressures to make the first book in a new series by a new author accessible to as large a segment of the audience as possible. Is that fair comment?

Absolutely, and with the added filter of a publishing house. My agent told me that if I kept writing out-and-out weird fiction, I'd never get published, because no editor in London was looking for those kinds of books. You have to ask yourself the question, what's more important, being published or holding out? Which isn't to say I sold out! I merely changed the aesthetics to something a little more familiar - possibly one which is more commercially appealing, I suppose - but I still am very proud of NIGHTS OF VILLJAMUR. Now I have the publication deal, I can embrace my inner weird, and I hope that shows!

Oh, it does.

What, then, would the book have been if you’d had your way? Much the same, am I to understand, but weirder… new weirder, perhaps?

Weirder, probably, though I'm not sure how much more so - and most likely I would have looked upon the world as something more technologically and culturally advanced. It's hard to say now I'm so far into it. As for the New Weird... well. It's funny - a while back I said that the New Weird was a still-born literary movement, but there has been more talk in the couple of years than in the preceding eight or so put together. Perhaps it's finally been recognised, in some retrospective manner? But whatever the New Weird had in its original aims and ambitions, to bring a rigorous new dimension to the fantasy genre perhaps - and I admired that it wanted to be more than just entertainment, not that there's anything wrong with just entertainment – then I hope the spirit lives on in CITY OF RUIN.

Was there anything as per your original conception of NIGHTS OF VILLJAMUR that you had to drop entirely, I wonder?

Yes, a quarter of the original manuscript had to go - I'm not sure I should be that candid, but never mind. The original manuscript was too big, and Peter Lavery, my then structural editor, asked me to hack it down - which was painful, but made the book a lot less baggy. I won't say in any detail what's gone though - largely because I can't remember now, it was a good while ago - but a lot of the reduction of the world count was to increase the chances of translation rights being sold.

And now they have been... this month, you’re being published in bona-fide American!


All kidding aside, it’s a huge achievement, and something I’m sure you must be very excited about.


Indeed - the American market is huge, and I'm privileged to be on the list of Bantam Spectra, and they've a great team there. Exciting times.

In the meantime, here in old Blighty, book two of The Legends of the Red Sun is arriving on bookstore shelves almost a year to the day of NIGHTS OF VILLJAMUR’s publication. That’s a pretty quick turn-around for such an accomplished sequel. I take it you had a little lead time?

I did have a lot of lead time for CITY OF RUIN, yes - I think it was about 14 months or so from sale until NIGHTS was published, which meant I had a fraction longer to work on the next book. And I should be on schedule for delivering the third book in the series on time, too. The fourth - purely on speculation of the workload - I'm not so sure about, but we'll see. I'm a way off even starting it yet, so I could surprise myself. I know how important it is to get a book a year out for the first two or three books - purely in industry terms, the regularity helps get your name out there. The casual customer has a short memory when it comes to newer writers.

With CITY OF RUIN though, I knew exactly what I'd be writing, what story needed to be told, and what kind of toys I wanted to play with, right from the off, so I hit the ground running. And you get better at doing certain things, working out how many words it will take to tell a certain part of the story, building characters, all that jazz - such practice helps me be more efficient for the next one. But every writer is different.

Oh, and a deadline helps drive things a little quicker.


From a purely personal perspective, I’d love to see new books from you on an annual basis, Mark, though I don’t for a minute believe readers would simply forget about you if the sequel to CITY OF RUIN didn’t hit day and date next year. But there is the cautionary tale of Scott Lynch to bear in mind: an author with similar sort of profile to that you’ve achieved who promised, similarly, to deliver a book of THE GENTLEMEN BASTARDS sequence every year. Writing so prolifically, and with so much else on your plate, do you worry about burn-out at all?

The writing doesn't burn me out. The writing is a release of a hundred ideas fermenting away in my head. Between you, me and the internet, when I started writing, one reason I did it was to escape a dreary few months of my life, so it's always been the thing I do as a coping mechanism. Which isn't to sound diva-ish, I've always been into something creative throughout my youth - though then it was mainly music, tinkering away on guitars until the small hours.

Of course, this is easily the kind of thing to be quoted back to me in a few years time...

But as I say, the writing doesn't burn me out or tire me (though the edits certainly do...) - there is indeed a heck of a lot of other stuff that writers have to do these days, and it must be sustained for it to have any effect - there is no point blogging for a week, then doing nothing for a month or three, while you're setting up your career. The cumulative effects of the peripheral stuff – the blogging, the signings – is most likely to cause a burn out, but I think I would have been affected in some way by now if it was going to happen at all.

[If anyone is reading this in the future, and I have disappeared from the internet, then wipe that smile off your face.]

So what do you do with yourself when you’re not writing - or, indeed, working, blogging, signing, editing, etc? How do you like to unwind?

This summer, as I'm sure I've mentioned elsewhere, I've been growing stuff in my garden that I can eat - mostly it's a deliberate act to keep me offline, to do something actually real. I listen to stacks of music, sometimes still tinker with the guitar - though mainly acoustic music these days. I'm really into Yoga at the moment - don't laugh! It's actually pretty tough, and if you spend all day at a desk and all evening with a laptop, you need something like that to put your back into shape again. I go running. I like green spaces. I've an interest in politics. And, believe it or not, I still love to read...

Oh, I don’t often get the chance to talk politics. But let’s frame the discussion a little. Going back to your blog, you made a post in the aftermath of the general election debacle on the very subject. You wrote, “Readers seem to surrender themselves to the idea of politics within fiction on a regular basis. They are open to worlds of hugely varying political structures and concepts, and many genre authors are willing to explore new ways of thinking. But when it comes to actual, real-life ideologies, authors and readers start staring at their feet.”

So lift up thine eyes and tell me, Mark: how are you feeling about the state of the UK government?

Are you sure people won't click on another site at this point? :) As an aside, I was disappointed that a couple of the responses to that initial post were along the lines of, Authors shouldn't really talk politics. Of course they should. Everyone should.


I'm a man of the Left, though not a Marxist, and my opinions of the state of the UK government can pretty much apply to the state of UK politics over the last 30 years, with its ruthless pursuit of the neoliberal/Chicago School policies. In that I am spectacularly saddened. Now we have some of the richest folk in politics deciding that the poorest deserve to pay for their sins. The poorest, via the much-loathed State, must bail out those who preach the benefits of the free market (link) and various institutions continue to roll out their 'structural adjustment' programmes across the world, meaning more people are forced to suffer (link). At the same time, this is what a lot of our taxes are being increasingly spent on (link), as governments declare public expenditure must be further reduced.

Perhaps that sums it up. But, you know, I remain endlessly optimistic.

It, umm... sure sounds that way, Mark.

Politics really do seem to be a turn-off for a lot of folks. At a stretch, I can sympathise, I suppose: people come to fantasy primarily to get away from the real world, so the last thing they’d want are those writers who create the worlds they escape to hammering home their ideologies. And political opinions remain very personal to some; there are yet those who won’t say who they vote for. Commies the lot of ‘em!

And yet, flying the face of that reticence, there’s remains a willingness to engage in fiction which espouses more outlandish political leanings than any that’d fly in reality.

But back to the books. Overtly speaking, CITY OF RUIN is, I think, less concerned with politics than NIGHTS OF VILLJAMUR. Was the movement away from that mode of narrative something you intended, or was it simply dictated by the story’s movement away from Urtica and the imperial capital?

It's interesting you think that - personally, I felt the political thought was much truer in CITY OF RUIN - that it greatly informed the construction of the world and the story. We get to see the true effects of political decisions, and especially the hegemony of the Empire. We see dead communities as a result of trade changes. We see the gangs play a role in strike breaking. (You can see more in this recent extract - skim down to the final section.)

Perhaps it's a different kind of politics in CITY OF RUIN. Back in Villjamur, we had the very obvious power plays and the humanitarian crisis, so maybe I'm now being a lot more subtle about it, I don't know. Maybe I disguised it a little. But it just goes to show how reviewers may look at a text very differently than the author does!

Overtly speaking, I said. Certainly the consequences of all the politicking in NIGHTS OF VILLJAMUR are spread out before the reader in City of Ruin, but are political decisions made in book two, or merely followed through from the first book?

That's a fair point, yes, now I see what you mean. There are more micro decisions, perhaps - the portreeve (local leader for those who haven't read the book), is managing the affairs in Villiren, and doing his best to forge his own economy at the expense of others, so we see more of the local politics (more of a microcosm, in my head) but as for general Imperial policy, and the main plot, we're still following what was set-up in the first book.

But this is a dangerous game I’m playing. Back on terra firma, one of the most remarkable things about NIGHTS OF VILLJAMUR was its titular setting; I’d have paid good money to read more about Villjamur. Plenty of authors are glad to get the worldbuilding out of the way and move on: in contrast, you seem to positively relish the prospect. Instead of taking the path most travelled, you pulled the rug out from under our expectations and shifted the action to another location entirely. Is that something we can expect to continue, as THE LEGENDS OF THE RED SUN progresses?

Yes and no. I had to split my focuses on Villiren - since it needed its own story telling, and I'd love for readers to come to this book and enjoy it without needing to have read the first. In book three, we do indeed return to Villjamur, and we meet some new characters - but that's all I'm saying! I want each book to have a strong flavour of its own, with individual agendas and themes. Slot them all together, and you get the big picture (though book four is probably going to require the reader to have read the first three).

But I do love worldbuilding - there's something to be said for the sensation of being confronted with a blank slate, and just creating. For me, that's the fun part, the discovery, the exploration.

How was it discovering Nottingham, “a city surrounded by ex-mining villages which were razed to the ground by witches (more or less),” when you moved into the place a few years ago? You spoke of coming to understand the city partially through DH Lawrence, I seem to recall... was that literary exploration literature a similar sort of thrill as you felt when creating the Boreal archipelago in literature? Do you think Nottingham has influenced the world you’ve built in THE LEGENDS OF THE RED SUN?

The experiences of moving to a new city and discovering the local area through local authors is not too distant from creating worlds yourself. Or rather, you can use your own experiences of discovery in the real world and transfer the methods to the writing. I've always believed that what makes a place come alive, textually, isn't merely the structures, but the people's relationship to their environments, their local heritage - and it's those things that make a real-world location unique to any other city or county. When you read local authors, even if it's decades ago, you get an appreciation of those things.

Nottingham - very much in the way you've mentioned there - was certainly an influence, but more so in CITY OF RUIN. Aside from the usual quirks of cities, and of local gang problems within, it was more some of the surrounding elements that contributed. There are communities throughout the archipelago that were built around the mining industry, and they have been left crippled when the Empire changed a policy here, a trade route there. They're dead settlements, and you can certainly see that in Nottinghamshire - towns crippled by Thatcher's brutal politics, and still - nearly three decades later - they are struggling to recover. Villages are like inner city ghettoes, with acres of abandoned terrain, the odd industrial structure which nature is slowly reclaiming. (It was a startling contrast to the rural Wiltshire I grew up in.) Once you're aware of that, it's difficult not to let it drift into the text. Thatcher’s politics had essentially created dying earth conditions around here.

So let’s say Villjamur was a real place, and you, Mark, were its DH Lawrence. Give me a little local colour from the realm of epic fantasy you’ve conjured.

If I were its DH Lawrence, presumably I'd be disgruntled with the locals, become highly critical of the wars, and exile myself to somewhere warmer? Or I could give a sharp paragraph on the things you'd see there: age-old statues, smothered in lichen; labyrinthine cobbled streets; tiers of the city layered up like a crude cake; hundreds of thousands of people milling about, hunched in thick clothing, miserable faces; a mishmash of architectures, from the baroque to the eccentric, precariously pitched so they look as if they're about to fall over; garudas causing downdrafts on stall awnings; beyond, the rolling tundra, towering fjords, spindly forests, broken communities, vast ancient structures; and everywhere, the endless falling of snow...


Generally speaking, THE LEGENDS OF THE RED SUN is read as epic fantasy, but both of your books are suffused with elements of other genres: crime and noir, science-fiction, mystery, even romance. We spoke earlier of what we’re missing in fantasy, of how "too-clean" writing, as you put it, is the Ford Focus of fiction, whereas more radical narratives stand out like shiny, new Alfa Romeos. China Mieville’s THE CITY AND THE CITY recently won the Arthur C. Clarke award, and it’s crime fiction in everything but name. So I put it to you: when virtually every fantasy novel has a bit of a kick to it, a twist of genre to set it apart from the morass of standard genre fare, is there still a place for straight-faced fantasy in the world today? Can we make the Ford Focus palatable again? Should we?

The important thing to remember about the Ford Focus is... a lot of people buy it. A huge amount. Some people like its reliableness, or perhaps its value or economy. (How far can I stretch a metaphor?) There has been such fantasy for decades, and it will not go away any time soon. Why? I can't say. Is it a bad thing? Perhaps not - I'm aware that it sells a lot, and bankrolls publishers to take more experimental novels on board.

But it's interesting you say everything has a bit of a twist these days: it's almost become the norm, to some extent - the perfect marketing solution. The same, but just a little bit different - like every Jack Johnson album. That's almost become the norm, if you see - not utterly radical like the days of PERDIDO STREET STATION, but just a fraction different. For a genre that can go anywhere, it seldom reaches for such radicalism - but whether that's good or bad isn't really for me to say.

Nor I, though I'll say it anyway: it's bad. But we're winding down here, and that's a whole can of worms I shouldn't stink out the place with this late in the game.

One last biggie: there’s been a lot of talk of late of the so-called death of publishing. An article by Garrison Keillor that has to be seen to be believed ran on The Baltimore Sun a few weeks ago, which had the LAKE WOEBEGONE DAYS author harking back to times the good old days of typewriters and editors. Is there anything to all the grass-is-greener muttering, do you think? Are eBooks and the perceived rise of self-publishing going to kill books and bookstores dead?

I’d love to hear your thoughts on this, Mark. You’re a pro writer now, you were in publishing before, as part of Solaris for starters, and you were an Ottakar’s man back in the day, weren’t you? Oh, how I miss my Ottakar’s...

I miss Ottakar's too!

It wouldn't be publishing without someone kicking off about the Good Old Days. I look forward to the time where I can look back on the blogosphere, before the Singularity kicked in, reminiscing on how it was good that we could send electronic mail to people and put two-dimensional pictures up. You go, Garrison! Don't let them youngsters get to you!

If you put seven ebook theorists in a room, you'd get eleven different answers (or three of them being a variation on "what Cory says"). No one really knows what's going on. Free downloads are registered as ebook sales, to my knowledge, which skews things massively, so the stats are not reliable. Years ago, people said computers would kill the book, but all it's done is support the growth of novel sales through online shopping and free extracts and virtual communities.

It's also important to stress that, when people talk about sales decline in the trade, the sections of the bookstore that get hurt are usually those with pretty elastic demand (if you can apply economic terms to the industry) . Celebrity biographies and gift books - in good times they sell loads, in bad times no one wants to know, because they have a very transient readership. Unlike fiction, and very much unlike SFF, which remains unaffected because of its loyal fans.

Self-publishing books will seldom have any influence – it's $$$ that makes the difference in this game. Publishers have to fork out cash for bookstore promotions, and advertising in magazines, and sending out hundreds of review copies etc, to get that book under the nose of the casual punter. Unless you're armed with huge amounts of cash to invest, then think again of getting much success here. I should say that some of these vanity presses are little more than a scam trying to seduce struggling writers with promises like "we'll send your book to newspapers for review!" - of course they can, the newspaper reviewers are just going to put anything like that in the bin.

And we shouldn't dismiss the technology, though - small print runs, or Print on Demand is great for local community books with a tiny readership; and it allows us to read previously out-of-print titles, as do ebooks. Digital publishing has brought authors back from the dead. How good is that? Technology will be seized by our community of readers and ultimately put to great use.

As long as people are reading, I don't care how they're doing it.

Quite so. A fair and balanced perspective, and not at all old-man moaning. Really, we should be denying grizzled grumps like Keillor access to the internet.

Anyway. I think we’ve burbled at one another just about enough, and it’s been an absolute pleasure, Mark. Before we call it a day, though, a couple of quick hits, if you don’t mind. First up, and we touched on this earlier: last word on the new weird. Dead as the dodo, or alive with possibility against all the odds?

I've said before that it was a stillborn movement, that the New Weird is dead, it is an ex-subgenre. And you know what, there's been more talk recently than ever before. It's a zombie movement, back from the dead – the tag is being used, without the previous taint in publishing houses "We ain't touching that manuscript - we'll never sell it!", and people are starting for the first time to know what it means. So who knows, perhaps the Weird is back again. It's certainly surprised me how people are looking for more of it though - that's a good sign.

Personally, I think there has always been a weird gene in the genre, from Hodgson to C.L. Moore to Miéville. I'd love to think I carry that gene myself.

On your blog last year, you put together a playlist of music to read NIGHTS OF VILLJAMUR by. Any chance you’ll be doing something similar for CITY OF RUIN, now that it’s gracing bookstore shelves across the UK? What are a few of the most significant tunes that would feature?

Yes! I've a playlist lined up. It starts off with The Cure's "Lullaby", and features Mogwai's "Kids will be skeletons", Radiohead "Idioteque", 65daysofstatic "Little Victories", Martin Grech "Penicillin", Sufjan Stevens "Dumb I Sound"... In fact, I should really post this online soon. [He has: here - ED] I love having a playlist to write along too - it kind of helps with the whole direction of the project.


If I could eat your books - which is to say, if they were consumables literally as well as figuratively - what foods would NIGHTS OF VILLJAMUR and CITY OF RUIN be?

NIGHTS would probably be a kind of curry, nothing too hot mind, more of a Chicken Jalfrezi, so you know something spicy is happening there. CITY OF RUIN is much more in Vindaloo territory, which may be a bit too much for a lot of people, but if you can handle it...

I can handle it!

And since I suspect I’ll get nothing out of you about book three of THE LEGENDS OF THE RED SUN, what will it taste of compared to the two courses of curry the first two volumes in the sequence represent?

Whereas the first two are still Indian curries, the third will be something more like a Thai Green curry. Not too far away, geographically speaking, but hopefully a very different taste indeed.


On that appetising note, then: Mark, I really can’t thank you enough for your time - nor, for that matter, your support of the little old blog. For your generosity and your kindness, then, not to mention the single most interesting chat I’ve had in ages, thanks so much.

And thank you, too, for the interesting debate and your hospitality – and for asking some genuinely tricky questions. It's been a blast!

***

And with that, we're done.

Thanks to everyone for reading. I know it's been a long one, but fascinating, no? And thanks again to Mark; the gent deserves huge amounts of gratitude for being so generous with his time and his words - his stock in trade, no less - as to put up with my pestering.

NIGHTS OF VILLJAMUR is out in paperback now in the UK, and should be hitting the States in hardcover later this month courtesy of Bantam Spectra. Hereabouts, Tor made the sequel available last Friday. I'll be reviewing on Friday coming - stay tuned for that (not to mention a guest post from Mark and the results of Tuesday's signed proof giveaway) - but let it suffice to say, for the moment, that CITY OF RUIN is really rather good.