Book 1 of The Inheritance Trilogy
Rating: 4 out of 5
It’s hard enough for somebody to create a story that’s truly unique and refreshing. It’s even more amazing if an author does it in her first try. N.K. Jemisin’s first offering The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms immediately captures the reader’s attention right at the first page. It is a book of great, fantastic and intriguing ideas. Many of which are fit to be consumed by the modern 21st century audience.Yeine, the lead character in the story, grew up among barbarians. Her mother, however, came from the Arameri family, the same family that rules only just about the entire world. Yeine’s mother forsook an empire to be with the man she loved and that didn’t sit well with Yeine’s grandfather. In fact, Yeine suspects it even got her mother killed. Yeine got herself summoned to the capital city, Sky; where she went hoping find the answers to her mother’s death. Instead she found herself declared an heir to the throne. From now on she is a prisoner of fate, and a target for murder… by men and gods alike. Yeine now must find her way through the byzantine maze of politics, find allies in a world where no one can be trusted, and trust her fate, literally, to the gods - the same gods, by the way, who have fallen from grace and are now prisoners of men, used as tools for conquest, subjugation and oppression - the same gods who, if she isn’t careful, are just as happy to see her life ended, for very peculiar reasons.Jemisin’s characters are powerful. And we’re not really talking about beings capable destroying worlds, but they are characters who leap off the page as if they are flesh and blood, which is strange to say for creatures that are, in reality, improbable. This is very true for one character in particular, the dark god, Nahadoth – wrathful, dangerous, brooding, complex, oh, so very wonderfully complex – he is the very soul of the story. One could imagine the author having fun writing about him. From the very start, one could see that The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms is not your typical fantasy story. The flavor isn’t your typical type of quasi-medieval or even renaissance European setting, but quite overtly has strong tones of South Asian with a touch of East Asian, African and North American influences. Even the main character isn’t Caucasian, but probably of either North African, Middle Eastern or South Asian features. She is dark, and thank the gods for that, because it is quite refreshing seeing a fantasy world through different eyes, and it isn’t out of place. In fact, N.K. Jemisin shows that it can work. A good storyteller can make it work. Moreover, the author also brings a decidedly feminine touch to the story that isn’t quite off-putting to male readers. N.K. Jemisin’s story is an amazing blend of fantasy and mythology and even and evolving myth-making where gods are involved and the stakes are not just the entire world, but the whole cosmos, but she manages to make the story low-keyed and not another large grand epic-scaled opus. It is convoluted, but not confusing, and quite easy to follow. Jemisin has weaved a story of contradictions and is another of those works that continues the trend of bucking traditions and taking the genre into new directions. If there’s any weakness, it is that her fantasy world is not defined so much in the book as much as you’d expect in any fantasy work. But Jemesin writes her story in a way that almost states that world-building is sometimes too much overblown in importance anyway that sometimes authors tend to forget other important story features: story and characters. And this is where she put her money on. The gods must have listened because she’s hit a winner. Those Hugo and Nebula and World Fantasy Awards recognitions say so. And this is just the first book, by the way.
Book 1 of The Farseer Trilogy
Rating: 4 out of 5
Bastard sons of kings. How many times have we read fantasy stories about them? Well, Fitzchivalry isn't exactly a bastard son of a king, he is a bastard son of the king's heir. Sent away by his maternal grandfather, he finds himself being taken by the royal household who can't really afford to totally acknowledge him, since his mother was lowborn. He is taken under the care of the heir's stablemaster and is taught to tend to the horses.
That by itself should have been the end of the story. But Fitzchivalry's (or more commonly "Fitz") seemingly harmless arrival into the castle sets in motion a chain of events that shakes the foundation of the succession and unknowingly puts his life in danger. He discovers he inherited strange powers from his father's lineage, is secretly sent under the tutelage of one of the royal advisors, Chade, and is taught to become an assassin in order to become a pawn of the king. Meanwhile, the realm itself is threatened by foreign raiders and in their wake they leave a horror more horrible than any wanton destruction they could possibly leave behind, of which no answer has yet been found.
It is difficult to pinpoint why this book captures the attention of the reader as soon as they open the first page. It may be the writing of the author, Robin Hobb; or it maybe the boy, Fitz, whose story draws people in. Hobb in some way attracts sympathy towards the main character and keeps readers coming back to the story. Which is amazing because her style is simply... simple. It isn't articulate like Tolkien, or lyrical like Herbert. Her story isn't mind-boggling like Mielville, or doesn't have the gritty realism of Martin, or the vast overwhelming scope of Erikson.
Her characters, if one looks closely, with a few exceptions, are just like any other character from any other fantasy book. Yet they stand out. There isn't a great warrior, or that cool sneaky dude. It isn't even action-filled. For all intents and purposes, this book should have been boring. Yet still, Robin Hobb draws us in. Maybe because she also breaks a lot of standards that have come before her that the story comes out interesting. Maybe it's the uniqueness of the plot and the setting (even though the world-building hasn't really been extensive).
Whatever it is, it says a lot about Robin Hobb. The Assassin's Apprentice (and its series) has been a favorite for many for years now, and its not because of the usual things fans love about speculative fiction. This book is liked mainly for its story, and the way it has charmingly wormed its way into the hearts and minds of its readers, proving once and for all that all a story needs, really, is simply good story-telling. And, thankfully, this is just the first Robin Hobb has to offer. Lucky for us, there's more.
Book 2 of the Kingkiller Chronicles
Rating: 4 out of 5
When people began to criticize old school fantasy as unimaginative, they weren’t talking about the genre itself. What was wrong with old school wasn’t the style; it was the various authors that recycled the same old concepts almost to the point of direct substitution. And so newer, brighter writers began a new trend in fantasy and made it grittier and edgier. And while the new trend undoubtedly propelled fantasy to new heights and made the genre recover its creativity, it seemed something was being left behind. Fantasy seemed to have lost what brought readers into it in the first place: its sense of wonder - the sense that you were in a realm that is magical, a place of dreams.
Sometime in the late 90s, one J.K. Rowling introduced readers to the world of Harry Potter, and proved that fantasy can still go back to its roots and still capture that old magic and captivate the heart and minds of readers with enchantment. All that was needed was a little bit of creativity and heart, even though some of the concepts weren’t quite that original anymore. While the Harry Potter series was aimed for young adults, it didn’t take long until old school magic recaptured the more mature readers.
The enigmatic Kvothe captured the imagination of readers when Patrick Rothfuss unleashed upon an unsuspecting world his first novel, The Name of the Wind. The orphan who clawed his way out a personal tragedy to exasperate the masters of the local University of magic with his silly antics, unwittingly save a town from a fire-breathing dragon-like reptile, and have his heart broken numerous times by the woman of his dreams, has claimed a spot in the pantheon of great fantasy characters in only his first outing (whether this is permanent remains to be seen), in spite of the fact that his story is incomplete and readers have just only seen hints of the person he is to become. Amazingly, Rothfuss has seemingly made Kvothe into some legendary figure even though his accomplishments have yet to be printed in his books. This is probably the first time that a fictional character has gained a reputation before his story has even been completely read. Quite remarkable, considering that the character for most of the story is still struggling to get out of his teens. Also, this only puts much pressure for the author to deliver according to the high expectations he set himself.
So would he live up to it in the second book? The Wise Man’s Fear opens the very next day as the one that ended the first book. Kvothe is back in the University, now promoted in status, with access to materials once forbidden to him, still clawing to find money to support his day-to-day living, still haunted by his thoughts of a particular girl, still determined to chase figures that supposedly only exist in legend, still playing his lute and his music. The book would soon take him to fend off enemies within the university, be sent off to a distant town and fight bandits, perform services for a noble, encounter a beautiful seductress, learn of the ways between sexes, become a fighting machine and rescue fair maidens in the hands of vile men. And before one starts to think that one might have heard of this story before… stop. It isn’t exactly the same one you think you read about. And therein lies the talent of Patrick Rothfuss. He took old school ideas, wove some creativity, and recaptured the magic and the imagination that made old school fantasy so… well… magical.In The Wise Man’s Fear, readers begin to see more of the world Rothfuss has created, in quite a way unique to the series: by storytelling within storytelling. It is one of its integral themes. Rothfuss while telling his story takes us, at the same time, into the mind of a storyteller. Into the magic of weaving stories to entertain, whether through song, through music or through poetry. And by doing so giving the saga its heart and its passion. And Kvothe’s story is nothing if not passionate – and so is Rothfuss’ storytelling.
There are improvements that come about as Rothfuss having tasted success before. For example, his supporting characters, while mostly almost identical in the first book, are more fleshed out now and have bigger roles. But at the same time there are lingering problems from the first book. It does seem that this book could have benefitted from removing a number of pages. There were parts that it did seem that there was a lot of nothing really going on. Rothfuss also does have some trouble transitioning the story from one story thread to another sometimes making the transition seemed quite forced.
But are these enough to take away from the beauty of the book? Not really. No. The story of Kvothe remains as enigmatic, funny, witty, outrageous, foreboding, grim and marvelous as before. And by the end of the book, readers get a glimpse of the dark larger-than-life personality that Kvothe is stated to become. Not quite there yet, but one could almost taste it in the wind (pun intended). And it’s exasperatingly maddening. But it only makes one sit in exciting anticipation for the coming out of the next part of the story of the man who is reputed to battle an angel for the sake of the woman he loves. And whether this indeed happened remains to be seen.
