Thirty years old

It’s my birthday today. I read this passage from “The Steel Remains” a couple of days earlier. It left me thinking but I didn’t completely get it. Then my birthday comes, and now I DO get it. Deeply.

It’s like if it’s talking to me.

‘But you didn’t die.’
‘No.’ Egar thought he heard something that was almost disappointment in the other man’s tone. ‘I didn’t. Not even at Gallows Gap, and Urann knows we came close enough there. Now that was a perfect place for a good death, if ever I saw one.’
And now it was Egar’s turn to chuckle. But it was a grim sound he made, not much humour in it.
Marnak’s lips bent in silent echo. ‘Instead of which, we all become heroes. You, me, even that fucking faggot friend of yours.’
‘Look, he wasn’t exactly my-‘
‘And next thing you know we’re back to fighting humans again. And that’s fine, you know, like I said, but …’ Another helpless gesture. ‘ It got old. Felt like some kind of massive wheel coming right the way back round to start. There were all these new Majak kids flooding into Yhelteth on the recruiting wagon, looking up to fill the gaps in the ranks, no fucking clue what it was all about-‘
‘Yeah, I remember.’ Mostly, what Egar remembered was wanting to break their shiny, enthusiastic faces for them. The fact they reminded him so much of himself a decade earlier only made it worse. ‘Weird times, huh?’
‘You know what it felt like?’ Marnak slipped off his cap, scrubbed vigorously at his scalp with the nails of a half-clenched fist. ‘You remember those round-and-round-about machines the Kiriath put into the tea gardens at Ynval. The ones with the wooden horses?’
‘Yeah. Been on them a couple of times.’
‘Yeah, well, you know what it’s like when the ride’s finished, then. Everything comes to a halt, you’re sitting there, getting used to the whole world not spinning around you, and you’ve got a whole new set of people, mostly kids, all swarming to get on. You don’t know whether you want to give up your seat or not, and then it suddenly hits you.’ He slipped his cap back on again, shot Egar a sidelong glance. ‘You realise you don’t want to go round again. In fact, you’re not even fucking sure any more whether you really enjoyed it the first time around.’
They both laughed this time, and loud. Quick bark of tension released, then the looser, more reflective stretch of genuine amusement, shared under the massive sky. The small, human sounds it made held briefly against the landscape, then soaked away into the vast quiet and the wind, like piss into the ground.

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Books at my door – Late August edition – part 2

These arrived a couple of weeks ago, I just didn’t post about them.

Who cares about the books I’m buying? I know, I know. But it’s useful to keep track of things for me, and always very good suggestions for potential readers.

Lexicon Urthus – Michael Andre-Driussi
This is actually a book about a book, re-released recently. Specifically the series of two(four) books by Gene Wolfe (+ Urh of the New Sun). The series known under the name of “The Book of the New Sun”, and whose first chapter I already read and commented.

This book was recommended on some forums and I absolutely love when a book goes outside its boundaries and creates its own mythology and speculation. While I don’t exactly like the style of this one (as these speculations aren’t so significant and mostly an exercise in wit and knowledge) I’m still curious to follow all the tracks. I’m only slightly deluded because I’m more interested in some critical thoughts and flowing commentary, while this is mostly a dictionary (as it says) that doesn’t really go too deep. It just stays on the level of what’s explicit in the book, without adding speculations or hypothesis. There are also another couple of books similar to this one, so there may be something closer to what I want. Still, it makes for an useful guide when I’ll have time to continue my reading.

Cordelia’s Honor – Lois McMaster Bujold
I don’t know much about this series, nor the author. I know that it is another recommended read, in the non-hard science fiction, and considered a classic. The Vorkosigan Saga, another huge one, spanning a number of books and with a not so easy to follow continuity. This book is the one suggested to start with but things are mixed up as the publication order doesn’t follow at all the continuity. The stories themselves should be readable as standalone, but readers will always try to find the ideal reading order.

The wikipedia can help to get oriented. This one is an omnibus containing two stories, Shards of Honor and Barrayar. Published by Baen it has 600 pages in total and densely written, with afterwords from the author and an useful chronology of events at the end. While it is suggested to start the saga with those and read them in order, it is interesting to consider that the first of the two stories included was published in 1986 and the second in 1991 and even won the Hugo. With more books being published between those years but that do not fit chronologically in there.

If you want a huge space-opera, well written and with wars and romance mixed together, this may be a good choice.

Kushiel’s Dart – Jacqueline Carey
Another one to go in the reading pile and that is rather well known. Two trilogies set in the same world, with more to follow. This one is the first, considered the best, but also all the other books have a very good reputation and keep the quality all about the same level.

Far from traditional fantasy, this is a secondary world modeled after medieval Europe. A mix of political intrigue, romance and eroticism that received a lot of praises and one of the very few that isn’t considered junk despite those traits usually lead to no good. From the few pages I read it seem to have a beautiful, flowing prose, written in first person, and it surely tries to charm right away. In its own sub-genre this is probably the best by a fair margin.

The Warrior-Prophet – R. Scott Bakker
The Thousandfold Thought – R. Scott Bakker
These to complete my collection, as I was able to buy the first one, used, a while ago. This time I went for the hard to find US Hardcover because they have those beautiful covers that the new edition have replaced with much less inspired versions. The books actually look lovely without the jackets. Solid books looking like books. Well crafted. I’m happy to finally have all three of them in the format I wanted.

Last two volumes in the Prince of Nothing trilogy. Scott Bakker is right next to Erikson as the current most relevant and ambitious writer in the epic fantasy genre and truly deserving the title. Those who do not like Erikson’s writing style usually love Bakker and the series is considered one of the very best, beautifully written and for adults instead of teenagers, as long you can digest the philosophizing. I’ve also read that the series has some of the best badass villains ever.

The author is currently at work on a tetralogy set in the same world, whose first book should be out sometime next year and has one of the very best covers I’ve ever seen. I simply love a cover of a book that looks like a *book*. Without the usual stupid image of a character striking a pose targeted at teenagers. This one looks magnificent, included the colors. I worry that from now to release someone complains and gets to change it.

I’ve read some comments saying that it doesn’t stand out on a bookshop shelve and I *completely* disagree. It stands apart by having a wonderful art direction and being different from 99% of the ugly stuff there’s on the shelves. It’s intriguing, in the worse case. That’s a book that I take in my hands even if I have no idea what it is about.


In the meantime I continue reading The Steel Remains, about halfway through it. There were some scenes that got an impact on me, so I’m digging it more and more. Keep turning the pages.

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Quote from The Steel Remains

Just a random quote:

At his side, Milacar sighed. ‘The Committee for Public Morals is not dependent on Kaad for its venom, nor was it ever. There’s a general hate in the hearts of men. You went to war, Gil, you should know that better than anyone. It’s like the heat of the sun. Men like Kaad are just the focal figures, like lenses to gather the sun’s rays on kindling. You can smash a lens, but that won’t put out the sun.’
‘No. Makes it a lot harder to start the next fire, though.’
‘For a little while, yes. Until the next lens, or the next hard summer, and then the fires begin again.’
‘Getting a bit fucking fatalistic in your old age, aren’t you?’ Ringil nodded out over the mansion lights. ‘Or does that just come with the move upriver?’
‘No, it comes with living long enough to appreciate the value of the time you’ve got left. Long enough to recognize the fallacy of a crusade when you’re called to one. Hoiran’s teeth, Gil, you’re the last person I should need to be telling this to. Have you forgotten what they did with your victory?’

I’m enjoying a lot the book. Not for any particular new idea or approach, but it’s just fun to read and makes you want keep turning the pages and go on.

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Books at my door – August edition – Part 1

Got the book in my mail today. Hardcover, 340 pages probably going to be around 400 in standard mass market. Almost a “short” book compared to fantasy standards ;)

This one is going to be next in my reading queue after I’m done with Erikson’s last two novellas. After Richard Morgan I’ll probably go back and start Memories of Ice. Then Abercrombie again, most likely.

Waiting for more books to arrive before the end of the month…

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Book quotes interlude

These two from the second novella, The Lees of Laughter’s End.

Oh yes, my darling daughter, the night begins! Many are the terrible secrets of Laughter’s End, an’ could we fly wi’ wings of black now’s the time to leave the nest, derie! But who in this world can flee their terrors? Hands o’er the eyes, ye see, and voices t’drown out all sordid griefs, an’ the mind has wings of its own, aye so beware the final flight! Into the abyss wi’ all flesh left behind!
The stars swirled strange overhead and the Suncurl wallowed as if the wind had gasped its last. Black waves licked the hull.
But we are safe, darling, ‘ere above the squalid fates. Like queens we are. Goddesses!

‘Them nails, Master?’
A sharp nod. ‘It is never advisable to loose the spirits of the dead, to wrest them from their places of rest.’
‘It’s kind of comforting to think that there are such things as places of rest, Master.’
‘Oh, I apologize, Mister Reese. Such places do not exist, not even for the dead. I was being lazy in my use of cliche. Rather, to be correct, their places of eternal imprisonment.’
‘Oh.’

Richard Morgan’s fantasy book shipping now

But only from amazon.co.uk, as the american release is still to come (January, next year).

I just got confirmation on my mail that my order was shipped, so the book is out and in stock.

For those who have no idea about who he is, he mostly wrote edgy, contemporary sci-fi. This is his first foray into epic fantasy, still edgy.

It looks to be a good read, if you can stomach it.

Since it’s coming, new and without requiring to read previous installments, for once I’ll try and comment while it’s fresh. So I guess I’ll start reading it when I’m done with Erikson’s novellas (I’m a few pages onto the second of the three).

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Authorship

Some old time readers of this blog may find amusing what I’m writing here. But it isn’t a second-thought. I just believe that criticism is useful, but only useful when it is motivated. No matter what I wrote about these years, I hope that I always explained the best I could those motivations, and avoided gratuitous attacks.

This is just a post from the forums where I was defending Erikson from some criticism, but it makes sense on a general level.


Erikson himself has explained that he doesn’t know how much the books sold, nor he really cares. He is interested in the possibility of writing them and being paid so he can continue, and the new contract for six more books confirms that things aren’t going so bad.

GotM is some sort of selective process. He’s not writing something for the commercial success, and he is content enough if some of the people make through it and love it for what it is. It is about building your niche of passionate readers and know that at least some of them appreciate what you are doing, the way you’re doing it. If not everyone loves it, it doesn’t really matter as long you can still connect to some readers.

On these forums there are multiple threads just dedicated to mock some writer. And that writer is one of the most successful commercially. Does this mean that commercial success univocally defines quality? If that was true one of the best new writers would be Stephanie Meyer, who already has her own mocking thread.

Every time a writer reaches some level of exposition all kind of readers try the books. More readers also brings more naysayers, especially on forums. What is silly is the obstinacy. If you don’t like the books, then read something else, as the market isn’t so shallow to not present good alternatives. But do not pretend to be the ultimate judge and that your idea of quality is absolute.

Confrontation is always good, but it’s ultimately the writer who decides what to do with it. If embody it in the work as an attempt to improve, or just discard it. Erikson especially is one who was always open to criticism in his interviews, but in many cases he explained his choices and confirmed they were deliberate and that, even with the possibility of going back, he wouldn’t change them.

That’s authorship, and it deserves some respect. Not unanimous consensus, just respect.

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Erikson is the modern Shakespeare

Exaggerating, but for some weird reason there’s a passage toward the end of “Blood Follows” (the first Bauchelain and Korbal Broach novella) that I just love and kept reciting to myself (the same with some sentences of Iskaral Pust in DG, I had to recite them aloud instead of merely reading them).

Context is: there’s a sergeant of the City Watch who’s investigating on a series of murders and who’s now going to interrogate two weird guys. These two are camping atop a grassy barrow, dressed in rags and cooking some ratmeat on a skewer, with some good wine nearby, since you can’t really appreciate the ratmeat without a good wine.

One of the two sees the sergeant approaching and addresses him as a ‘lowborn’, and the sergeant answers asking what’s so special about them two instead.

This the reply:

‘Singular intent, poor sergeant, is the most cleansing of endeavours. Witness here before you amiable myself and, at my side, himself. We two are most singular.’

There. I love it.

On the other side I officially have a problem with Erikson’s endings. Thought the ending of GotM wasn’t fully realized, didn’t like the one of DG, now even Blood Follows didn’t end in a way that I considered satisfactory (I kept waiting for a plot twist that didn’t arrive). Loved the novel, but it needed something at the end.

Now onto “The Lees of Laughter’s End”.

Bauchelain meets Emancipor Reese

My decision to read Bauchelain and Korbal Broach novellas as an interlude before I plunge into Memories of Ice revealed to be a good one as the first novella, Blood Follows, is the tale of the very first encounter between Bauchelain and his manservant, Emancipor Reese (and these being characters that will appear in Memories).

On the forums I read the three novellas will be eventually released as accessible priced editions, in the meantime I’m enjoying my purchase. They are not an attempt to put a Malazan novel in a short form, these novellas are much different in style and Erikson seems even more at ease in this format than the longer books. I’m loving them. The writing is excellent, more measured and a pleasure to read. In a way it reminds me Joe Abercrombie, with more typified characters and humorous scenes, all coated in the usual Malazan myth.

Flavor.

Here are a few chunks, along with the very first encounter between our ‘heroes’.

First few lines:

The bells pealed across the Lamentable City of Moll, clamouring along the crooked, narrow alleys, buffeting the dawn-risers hurriedly laying out their wares in the market rounds. The bells pealed, tumbling over the grimy cobblestones, down to the wharfs and out over the bay’s choppy, gray waves. Shrill iron, the bells pealed with the voice of hysteria.

Bauchelain meets Emancipor Reese:

‘Have you any references, Mister Reese?’
‘Oh yes, of course!’ Emancipor found he was nodding without pause. He tried to stop, but couldn’t. ‘My wife, Subly. Thirthy-one years–‘
‘I meant, your previous employer.’
‘Dead.’
‘Before him, then.’
‘Dead.’
The man raised one thin eyebrow. ‘And before him?’
‘Dead.’
‘And?’
‘And before that I was a cockswain on the able trader, Searime, for twenty years doing the Stygg run down Bloodwalk Strait.’
‘Ahh, and this ship and her captain?’
‘Sixty fathoms down, off Ridry Shelf.’
The second eyebrows rose to join the other one. ‘Quite a pedigree, Mister Reese.’
Emancipor blinked. How did he do that, with the eyebrows? ‘Yes, sir. Fine men. All of them.’
‘Do you… mourn these losses nightly?’
‘Excuse me? Oh. No sir, I do not. The day after, kind sir. Only then. Poor Baltro was a fine man–‘
‘Baltro? Merchant Baltro? Was he not the most recent victim of this madman who haunts the night?’
‘Indeed he was. I, sir, was the last man to see him alive.’
The man’s eyebrows rose higher.
‘I mean,’ Emancipor added, ‘except for the killer, of course.’
‘Of course.’
‘I’ve never had a complaint.’
‘I gathered that, Mister Reese.’

To read in the light of:

The two old men scowled at each other, then Dully nudged Kreege and said to Emancipor, ‘So, ‘Mancy, looking for work again, eh?’ Both dockmen grinned. ‘Had yourself a run of Lad’s Luck with your employers, it seems. Lady fend the poor sod fool enough to take you on–not that you ain’t reliable, of course.’
Kreege’s grin broadened, further displaying his uneven, rotting teeth. ‘Maybe Hood’s made you his Herald,’ he said. ‘Ever thought of that? It happens, you know. Not many diviners cracking the Deck these days, meaning there’s no way to tell, really. The Lord of Death picks his own, don’t he, and there ain’t a damned thing to be done for it.’

It was true enough that he’d need a new job before the day’s end, or all the respect he’d earned over the last six months would disappear faster than a candle-flame in a hurricane; and that grim label —Mancy the luckless— would return, the ghost of old in step with his shadow, and neighbours like Sturge Waever making warding signs whenever their paths crossed.

‘You’re a sorceror?’
Bauchelain’s lips quirked into a smile. ‘Many people call themselves that. Do you follow a god, Mister Reese?’
‘My wife swears by ’em–I mean, uh, she prays to a few, Master.’
‘And you?’
Emancipor shrugged. ‘The devout die too, don’t they? Clove to an Ascendant just doubles the funeral costs, ‘sfar as I can see, and that’s all. Mind, I’ve prayed fierce on occasion–maybe it saved my skin, but maybe it was just my cast to slip Hood’s shadow so far…’

‘Have some wine,’ Bauchelain said, pouring two goblets full and handing one to Reese, who took it gratefully.
‘I’m sorry, Master–‘
‘Not at all. As the guard implied, it would have been unfortunate–and undesired–if you had come to any harm.’ He turned an inquisitive game on the old man. ‘Why so stubborn? You seem a wise man, Mister Reese–to assault and defy a sergeant of the Watch…’
‘Well, I didn’t want to fail you, Master. I, uh, like this job.’
‘You feared losing it? Do not be concerned on that account, Mister Reese. We find you ideal.’
Emancipor looked around. We?
‘And besides,’ the sorceror continued sipping his wine, ‘I have foreseen a long acquaintance between us, Mister Reese.’
‘Oh? Oh.’

There was also an enlightening part. Maybe I was too dumb to figure out in Gardens of the Moon, but I just didn’t get what was the distinction between the two twins of Chance. In this novella the distinction is made much more clear. The Lord pushes, the Lady pulls. The Lord is bad luck, the Lady is good luck.

It would be interesting to go read again those parts with the twins and consider things under this new light.