Thursday 28 October 2010

Review of Guardian of the Mountain by David Dalglish

Kindle edition

Guardian of the Mountain is a short horror-fantasy by David Dalglish. It’s clearly set in the world of the Half-Orcs series but all the characters, bar Mira, are new.
There’s a nice dynamic between the principle POV character, Jerek, and his simpleton friend, Dan. It reminded me of the Harruq/Qurrah relationship from as it started out in The Weight of Blood, although Jerek is not quite as unpleasant as Qurrah, and Dan’s a lot more stupid than Harruq. Stupid in a good way, mind: he’s a very likeable character.
What’s probably more important is that he’s a lot more innocent than Jerek. In fact, Jerek is the most unscrupulous of the bunch which, considering the ending, is a nice twist on the usual morality tale.
The most striking elements of this story, for me, were the effortless pace and the tight point of view. Sentences were short and to the point. Barely a wasted word and generally easy to follow. Naturally, this all helps with the process of image building. There were a few places where a missing speech tag or slightly odd phrasing threw me but they were few and far between.
Dialogue was good – natural and punchy, the way people generally speak in real life. There’s a definite shift towards gritty realism with a liberal spray of expletives. I had mixed feelings about that. I know this is how contemporary people speak, but in a story I prefer the profanities to be saved for maximum impact. In Dalglish’s defence, this sort of language serves to further our impressions of Jerek’s character.
The atmosphere of the story is dark and oppressive. There’s a fatalistic, inexorable feeling about it – the sort you get from films like “Final Destination” and “The Omen”. The scenes in the forest threw up a whole load of cinematic references for me (all of them good): “Predator” and “Deliverance” amongst them. More than that, though, this story had a strong sense of the Brothers Grimm about it – those truly dark and disturbing fairy tales.
It’s almost a negation of a morality story, with a clever dashing of our expectations. It’s also very much about human nature – greed and the will-to-survive. I’m not sure who would have approved the most: Nietzsche or Sartre. There’s a strong feeling that no one ever gets out alive, to say the least.
The Mira component of the story was almost a distraction for me. It was great to see her and to flesh out a bit more back-story (she features in the Half-Orcs series), but it deflected a little from the central plot. Clearly (as the old elf says) others have come to the mountain seeking its gold, and all have met a grizzly end; but when the elf decides he wants Mira and says he could stop the guardian killing everyone else if they’ll hand her over, it raised a lot of questions about the elf’s morality, his purpose and the nature of the mountain and its guardian that were left unanswered.
I think it works – the Mira element – but it perhaps detracts from the standalone status of the story. Clearly there’s a lot more that needs to be told (note: buy books 4 and 5 of the Half Orcs series to find out).
Point of view was maintained throughout. In the past, Dalglish has been a bit of a head-hopper, but not here. We’re pretty much stuck in Jerek’s POV throughout, and it’s not always comfortable. It’s effective, though, as (imperfect as he is) he’s the character most of us are unfortunately likely to identify with the most.
Tension is built expertly and builds in increments until the gripping last moments. There’s also a lot of subverting expectations and toying with the reader (thinking Jerek’s off the hook one minute only to have the heat back on the next).
A story succeeds on its ability to engage the emotions and the imagination. The principle emotion here is fear and Dalglish achieves his aim. The scenes are easy to imagine, the action immediate, the setting easily suggested. There’s no messing around with tedious descriptions of characters and irrelevant details about the colour of their underwear. It’s economical writing, which in this genre equals good writing.
I think this story achieves what it sets out to and it was an easy and entertaining read. Its greatest accomplishment, for me, was the POV of Jerek. Hopefully we’ll get to see some more development of him elsewhere. There’s a subtle Dalgishean (to coin a phrase) hint of redemption about the man...
Rating 4/5

Wednesday 27 October 2010

Review of Elfhunter by C.S. Marks



Elfhunter is something unique and rather special. In spite of the author’s admission of being heavily influenced by Tolkien, I felt this was an altogether different reading experience. Admittedly there are similarities in the bestiary and there’s a dark lord figure with multiple uprisings; but this is merely the stage for an exploration of character. It is an intelligent application of mythological themes forming the point of departure for a tale that bears more resemblance to Moby Dick than The Lord of the Rings.
It is a story of obsession and vengeance, with the she-elf Gaelen in the role of Captain Ahab. It is also much more than that: without Gaelen’s obsessive pursuit of the Elfhunter, Gorgon, there might never be a sufficient defence against his own relentless quest to eradicate the elves from Alterra.
Camaraderie is one of the key elements to this book, but it’s no simple matter of sharing ale and competing over how many orcs you can fell at Helm’s Deep. These characters are complex and, unlike Tolkien, Marks can write women (admittedly she does have an unfair advantage).
Her characters can be obtuse they often prevaricate, they are sometimes riddled with self-doubt, but (and here I’m speaking of the central group of Companions) they are fiercely loyal and loving. We are privy to their private thoughts and the way they are perceived by the others. This creates for some compelling dramatic irony and great depth of character.
The principles are only revealed a bit at a time, the way we get to know people in real life. Whilst we have access to their thoughts, it is only brief as Marks is a proponent of the “omniscient narrator” technique and employs a good degree of head-hopping. If it’s done poorly, as it often is in fantasy, shifts of point of view can become confusing; but Marks does this extremely well, giving us a snippet of different characters’ reactions and inner-world without tripping up the narrative.
Something I struggled with initially, and later came to like, was the pace. Marks is in no hurry to kick-start the action. The first part of the book plods along, with the occasional sighting of the dark horror who comes to obsess Gaelen. There are endless journeys, gradually revealed back-story and the occasional well-measured flashback. All this established a firm footing for the reader but I did have to work at it. The main problem I had was more a matter of expectation. In the past twenty years or so, the norm in fantasy has been for fairly rapid progression, heaps of action and strict POV. Once I got used to the style and pace of Elfhunter, I settled into a reading experience that was (at first) more like settling into a warm bath than tearing at break-neck speed across an action-strewn landscape. I found (I hope some of our currently blinkered agents and publishers are paying attention) that I actually preferred it. Reading a novel should be a very different experience to watching a movie.
The closest comparison I could find, in terms of pacing, is The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant by Stephen Donaldson, but I suspect Elfhunter is a bit more accessible to a wider readership.
The latter part of the novel changes gear, however, and we are propelled into a very satisfying conclusion where all the various points of view are woven together to generate the maximum tension.
One of the most important factors in determining whether or not a book is successful is the degree to which the reader can see what is happening without making any effort. On this count, Marks succeeds as well, and for an author who writes long passages of description, dialogue and back-story, she is also highly accomplished at action sequences. There is no gratuitous gore, however (this is apparently a YA novel). Some of the nastier deeds are reported, in the manner of Greek tragedy, and others are implied through the narration. The effect is the same, if not more disturbing in many cases.
The language is most definitely that of high fantasy. It took a bit of reorientation at first (particularly as I’ve just come off of a diet of new, “gritty” fantasy by the likes of Joe Abercrombie). There are different levels of “high” language too, ranging from the rather well-spoken English of the principles to the florid Shakespearean prose of Lord Wrothgar. When the elves speak in elven, the (English) words are italicised. After a while it becomes second nature recognising this.
For me, one of the greatest strengths of Elfhunter was the consistency with which Marks handles her vast material. Not only the enormous history of Alterra, the various uprisings of Wrothgar etc, but the little things that affect her characters. They are not introduced and then forgotten; they build the progression.
I shan’t say much about the antagonist, Gorgon, as that would be giving too much away. He is, however, a compelling baddy with a tragic and complex nature. This is no simple “good versus evil” tale (as much as the Wrothgar dynamic might suggest it). The closer Gorgon comes to Gaelen (who is both hunted and hunter) the more issues are thrown up for him. It doesn’t help that he has ghostly visits from an earlier elven victim either, in scenes that brought back fond memories of An American Werewolf in London.
Minor characters were also well-crafted. I found that I actually cared about their fates (Gelmyr and Belegund in particular); and if anything threatened the principles (or the horses...particularly  Eros) I was rather concerned, to say the least. It’s a matter of personal taste, but my favourites were Orogond, the prevaricating ranger, and Fima the dwarf (who thankfully didn’t have a poor Scottish accent and was a much more thoughtful creation than the usual stereotype). Gaelen and her cousin Nelwyn were also a joy to read.
Another important point about Elfhunter concerns all independent writers. This book has been meticulously copy-edited and it shows. There were perhaps three minor typos (which is considerably less than most of the mainstream published work I read). Formatting is exceptional, and the overall book design is pleasing. There are some beautiful interior sketches, detailed maps, and compelling cover art.
Rating: 5/5

Tuesday 19 October 2010

Review of The Royal Dragoneers by M.R. Mathias


http://www.amazon.com/Royal-Dragoneers-Saga-ebook/dp/B0046H9GBW/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&m=A7B2F8DUJ88VZ&s=digital-text&qid=1287499585&sr=8-1


The Royal Dragoneers
A Fantasy Novel by M. R. Mathias

An unremarkable "boy and his dragon" cliché delivered with likeable panache.
4 Stars

I must admit I was immediately put off by the title, and I began this novel not even wanting to like it, let alone expecting not to. Mathias plunges the reader immediately into a world not far from that experienced by players of the computer game The Elder Scrolls – which I suppose is a way of saying a fairytale/sword & sorcery, and which is also generally a guaranteed way to provoke me into accusations of laziness and genericity (if there is such a word). Imagine, therefore, my surprise that in spite of his somewhat florid prose, Mathias rapidly drew me in to the narrative. Oh, I thought, this one knows what he's doing.

A few chapters later, however, I realised I was tiring of his verbosity. This is an author who is unable to say "pig s--t", even when he means it. He keeps up a constant flow of erudite vocabulary, both where it is appropriate (such as some pleasing and skilful descriptions of the countryside) and where something a little earthier would have been better. Eventually this begins to grate, especially when it is swamping a good story.

And then, and several times as I worked my way through the book, I nonetheless found myself accusing him of laziness.

Yes, okay, this is a fantasy novel. Yes, okay, it is set in a Faerun / Tamriel clone which is what the reader is expecting.

But some people (possibly even most people) don't only read fantasy. Fantasy is probably less than a fifth of what I read, and in other genres I expect unknown features to be established in some way, not just dropped on me from a great height, in the way that various monsters are in this tale, and indeed various nonhuman races.

This is the first indication that we get that this is even a fantasy novel:

"Little gray goblins and bands of feral, rock-hurling trolls had been ranging down from the higher reaches of the Orich Mountains as of late..."

Here's the first mention of nonhumans:

“Are you and Zah human?” Jenka asked the first question that came to mind. “Or are you elvish, like the village folk say?”

At this point, the protagonist may just be making reference to the villager's fairytale mentality. Sadly, this is not so. Here's how it is confirmed to us:

"...neither of us are completely human. Nor are you. There were a handful of the elvish on the Dogma [a shipwreck], and a few of the little folk, if it is to be believed."

Laziness? Compare this with the care and attention with which Hobbits are introduced in The Hobbit; compare with the way that Pratchett takes the time to re-establish his world at the beginning of almost every Diskworld novel. That is the standard against which you are judged by any reader whose tastes are not limited to fantasy, and if the fantasy genre is full of exactly this kind of laziness – if the reader has come to expect this sort of thing, that is no justification.

Especially for an author of Mathias' obvious skill.

Whatever I may dislike about his redolent style, and whatever I may think of the story he chooses to tell (more below), Mathias knows how to narrate a story and he's good at it. He knows how to develop a background, rich in people and places. Incidental locations and characters are satisfying; much more than one dimensional. I think he judges the description of combat amazingly well – it's just technical enough to be believable, but the detail doesn't get in the way of the excitement.

There are thousands of stories just like the one that Mathias chooses to tell, and it is true that every one of the gentle twists and turns that his plot takes can be spotted by the unaided eye a good few klicks away.

I really don't like the story. I don't like the fact that the main protagonist has Luke Skywalker's Disease*. I don't like the fact that almost every element of the plot can be traced to some other recent fantasy, along with the impression that Mathias is retreading a path that is already very familiar, even to him. I don't like the hastily scribbled female characters – especially since one of them is central to the story. I don't, as I have mentioned, get on well with Mathias' style.

But don't be distracted by my likes and dislikes.

There are undoubtedly people who do, and who will, like this stuff, and I have this to say to them: with Mathias, you are in good hands. He is reliable, careful and consistent. He has his own distinctive style. His plotting is clear and thorough, he won't confuse or lose you, and if you take to his style you will very probably enjoy this book, and want to read more. What you won't find, however, is anything extraordinary, or even especially original. You may even find yourself playing spot the cliché (particularly with regard to characters), as I did. Whether you like this book or not is going, therefore, to be a personal thing. I recommend giving it a try.

I think he can do better. I think if he challenges himself a little – looks for a less hackneyed story to tell; is more ambitions with his plotting or character relationships, is more ambitious with his settings – for instance tries to create an unique fantasy world of his own – then his strengths will really shine through. I think if he can rein in his verbal diarrhoea, if he can learn to explore characters and their interactions rather than just describe them, he could even write something I would enjoy from beginning to end.

*'Luke Skywalker's Disease' is when the main protagonist's entire involvement in the narrative is derived from something mysterious in his recent and/or distant ancestry that results in destiny being thrust upon him. It is at its worst when the protagonist just blindly goes along with it, as is the case here, although in Mathias' defence, he paints a character whose blind following of destiny is entirely believable.

Scoring explanation

1. on my full scale:

A. Average score: 2.6
            High points:
                        plot structure:                          5/5
                        immersion                                5/5
                        consistency                              5/5
            Low points:
                        character development            0/5
                        use of themes                          0/5
                        symbolism                               0/5
                        narrative devices                     0/5

You'll notice that of the low points, three out of four are, frankly, optional, and Mathias just doesn't use them (themes, symbolism, devices).

I almost gave 5/5 for vocabulary too, but there were just a little too many words slightly out of place, and obscure words misspelt. When a writer is deliberately going for a rich vocabulary, he must be more attentive.

B. A recommendation to read:
            By all means read this if you like this sort of thing.

2. Stars out of 5 for Amazon
            4/5

But bear in mind that I wouldn't actually give The Da Vinci Code less than 3 stars, because it's a good read, though it barely gets 1 point on my full scale.

(Review by Harry DeWulf)