Elantris by Brandon Sanderson—Goodreads Book Review

Originally posted on Goodreads.com.

Brandon Sanderson’s debut, Elantris follows betrothed deuteragonists Prince Raoden of Arelon and Princess Sarene of Teod as, in their respective spheres into which each was unexpectedly thrown, they try to deduce the reasons for the curse of Elantris and prevent revolution in Arelon.

The story opens with Raoden enduring the Reod, which turns him into an Elantrian, a walking corpse unable to heal and unable to die; he is subsequently cast into the once great but now ruined city of Elantris that stands adjacent to Arelon’s capital. Meanwhile, his betrothed Sarene arrives by ship to discover he is, for all intents and purposes, dead—and, yet, the marriage contract will not allow her to annul the union that never happened. The story progresses from there, with both characters making their way through familiar fantasy subplots, which Sanderson nonetheless uses excellently and in new ways to form a great story.

While Sanderson is never polemical about his book’s perspective (the narrator’s focus is always clearly on the characters and their own assumptions, and on telling a great story), Elantris is an example of great plotlines coming from tried and true but, now, rarely seen viewpoints—here, those of the aristocracy against the revolutionary mob, as well as of the reformer who knows that charity is not always helpful, nor compassionate. The former perspective, shown in the political back-and-forths between Princess Sarene and Derethi priest Hrathen, who despite his position regrets previously taking part in a revolution that destroyed a country, lends nuance to what might otherwise be a simplistic revolution/reformation narrative; the book’s overarching plot of restoring the Elantrian monarchy, which has been wrongly denounced by history, also plays into this theme. Similarly, Raoden’s attempts to raise the half-dead denizens of Elantris above their misery by encouraging them to seek purposeful work and to build a community at times clashes with the charity of Sarene, who does not know Raoden is her lost betrothed.

I am normally ambivalent about fantasy, but with its well and steadily developed world, its incorporation of dynamic characters who are excellently fleshed out, and its reinvigoration of the restoration plot and other tropes, Elantris became a fantasy I’d very much recommend. Very much reminded me of other fantasies I enjoyed, like Tigana or The Wayfarer Redemption.

The Coming of Conan the Cimmerian by Robert E. Howard—Goodreads Book Review

Originally posted on Goodreads.com.

Winning Conan Bingo Card: “thew,” “(blue) balefire,” “tigerish strength,” “ivory breasts,” “by Crom!”

The Coming of Conan the Cimmerian is a series of short stories that introduce Conan, as well as the Hyborean Age in which he lives (like a mythical, prehistoric Iron Age). Written in episodes that cover different times and circumstances in the barbarian’s life, the stories and their various scenarios show Conan to be a primal, instinct-driven type of mankind, who often conflicts with (though is rarely seriously threatened by) both primordial forces and monsters as well as more civilized – and, in the world of the book, thus more vicious – men.

Published in the 1930s alongside Lovecraft’s in the pulp magazine Weird Tales, the Conan stories often involve consistent themes and motifs (see Bingo card suggestion above). Conan is beset by trouble, and he must get out of it — usually without craft beyond his sword arm. There is usually a woman involved, and she unerringly discovers that she wants to be possessed by Conan. Men of civilization (members of court, politicians, magicians, tacticians, etc) are internally threatened by Conan, as are their pretensions.

This last point touches on one of the deeper themes of the Conan stories: the fragility, irony, and decadence of civilization. “Civilized men are more discourteous than savages,” Howard writes, “because they know they can be impolite without having their skulls split, as a general thing.” Another quote indicative of this theme is, “The more I see of what you call civilization, the more highly I think of what you call savagery!” Throughout the stories, by the magnitude of his will for life (in battle, at board, in bed) and his respect for the primordial, Conan reveals those who presume themselves his betters to be fragile, inferior, and untrustworthy. His difference from them is the difference between being and seeming, and it becomes an indictment of civilizations that might think themselves infallible or beyond the more basic need for (or threat of) thew and steel. Many stories involve the discovery of the remains of past civilizations, and much of Conan’s wisdom inheres in his consistently keeping the rise and fall of empires in mind when engaging in the power politics of his time.

The Conan stories are excellent in their characterization of the titular hero, as well as the consistency of theme and setting. They can be read for both entertainment as well as for critical understanding of the role which fantasy literature plays in culture (is he an artistic concretization of the values readers wanted and needed during the height of the Great Depression? One could also read Conan as a Nietzschean overman — or do a compare/contrast with Superman, who was noteworthily created at the same time).

While my only complaint is that certain phrases/vocabulary appear so formulaically, that might be, for some, a good thing, since one of the major virtues of Conan is his reliability and simplicity. Besides, The Silmarillion (written by Tolkien at the same time as Conan), itself, contains only about 350 words it reuses, so perhaps I need to take a cue from Conan.

Spellmonger by Terry Mancour—Goodreads Book Review

Originally posted to Goodreads.com.

Cincinnatus with Diogenes’s mouth.

After serving his time as a professional warmage, the wizard Minilan opted to pursue the relatively quiet life of a country spellmonger. However, his experience leading men, as well as his being at the right place at the wrong time (during a goblin attack on his village, to be precise), ensure that his time wielding his mageblade is far from over.

Very entertaining fantasy. The narrator’s capacity for irony and understatement are evident from the first page. The plot follows Minilan’s present exploits while being interspersed with tension-relieving scenes from his time growing up and joining the college of mages. The book incorporates many fantasy tropes (son of a baker discovers he possesses a strain of ancestral magic, he acquires a weapon/stone that gives him both great power and responsibility, the calling upon a seemingly omniscient and timeless race to aid him, etc) without being cliche–in many parts due to the ironical self-awareness of the narrator, himself. The names for the different types of magic becomes a type of etymology, itself, which nonetheless often sounds curiously similar to Greco-Latinate etymologies; same goes for location names (the region known for its cattle and cheese is conveniently called “Boval Vale”, etc).

Among the themes that nuance the book pertain to the interactions between races. What does it do to the “humans vs goblins” trope when it’s discovered the goblins are just as smart as humans, and that they are only invading to take back their ancestral homeland from the previously imperialistic humans? Can one lead men and women in defense of their homes while, nonetheless, recognizing past crimes? Through his at times diffident, at more times humorously conceited, narrator, Terry Mancour explores these questions and more.

A slight caution for parents considering the book–one of the book’s many studies of magic is sex magic. While it’s presented consistently with the rest of the book, and rarely, if ever, gets too pornographic, it’s there, as is the narrator’s frank availing of himself (again, in quite humorous ways) of the local feminine population. Gandalf, he is not, though he does quote him at one point…