Author Intent versus Fan Desires

Or why fans hate Steven Erikson’s inconsistencies and Erikson doesn’t care

 

This is a rant that has been building in me for years now. And it is a rant that I think many readers of this blog will disagree with, perhaps quite vehemently, as I unapologetically scream that fantasy fans are way too often rigid, short-sighted idiots who willingly choose to ignore the point of the books they read.

 

Throughout the Malazan series there are inconsistencies, particularly in regards to the timeline. Characters appear who are much older than they should be, timings within the books don’t line up, characters will think of events that haven’t happened yet, etc. Whether such things began as intentional or not, they have persisted, and many of the Malazan fans have gritted their teeth, pulled their hair out and screamed aloud of the problems of these issues. Some have even stopped reading Erikson altogether due to these inconsistencies (and Erikson’s reactions to them). Along with these inconsistencies comes further complaint about a lot the more philosophical aspects of Erikson’s writing. Especially, the long, rambling and sometimes evangelical way they can be presented in.  

 

Erikson is often asked about these and his response has remained consistent, though the tone and personal wear of his response has varied. He is not bothered by them, and in some cases things were deliberately chosen in spite of the inconstancies with the story that has come before. There are good reasons for why he’s not bothered, though many fans choose to ignore them do their own perspectives. First, Erikson is an archeologist and therefore a student of history, long history. He knows that facts are in the eye of the beholder, perspective rules and that no history, however complete, is perfectly consistent. Nor is the world he creates.

 

Furthermore, Erikson is not after a consistent world creation or perfectly derived lists of characters and events. He is all about exploration of the human condition, as well as exploitation and exposition of the fantasy genre. He is intentionally subversive in his writing and often flat-out derisive. He will spit in the face of the reader to make his point, and that is often his point. And the reader’s journey is more complete for it.

 

But this is lost. His continued answers in interviews are lost. Eventually, he began inserting meta commentary of this in his writing (see my reviews of Toll the Hounds and Crack’d Pot Trail).  He seems haunted by the issue, though unmoved in his position. And he continues in Forge of Darkness (Indiebound, Book Depository, Amazon), even doubling down. Below are a series of quotes – one from an interview and the others from the book.  

 

“Histories hide behind other histories, and this Kharkanas trilogy is a layer pulled back, but even there it’s not structured as ‘this is precisely what happened back then.’ Rather, it is a tale deliberately reshaped by the narrator, for motives entirely his own. This detail allowed me to stay fresh in creating the tale, without being too tightly bound to any kind of objective reality.”

-SFF World Interview

 

Let me ask you this, then. Does one find memory in invention? Or will you find invention in memory? Which bows in servitude before the other? Will the measure of greatness be weighted solely in the details? Perhaps so, if the details make up the full weft of the world, if themes are nothing more than the composite of lists perfectly ordered and unerringly rendered; and if I should kneel before invention, as if it were made perfect.

 

Do I look like a man who would kneel?

…

Is my laughter cynical? Derisive? Do I sigh and remind myself yet again that truths are like seeds hidden in the ground, and should you tend them who may say what wild life will spring into view?

…

Should you err, the list-makers will eat you alive.

-Prelude

 

“I am satisfied to think of writing as a desire worth having, whereas its practical exercise is a turgid ordeal I leave to lesser folk, since I have better things to do with the sentient fragments of my brain.”

 

“Thus the argument of a thousand useless geniuses, each one quick to venture an opinion, particularly a negative one, since by their own negativity they can justify doing nothing but complain.”

 Varandas and Haut, p. 496-497

 

As a reader, do the quotes above enrage you or make you laugh? I think it’s a critical question for those who read Erikson’s writing. Erikson writes with a purpose, a purpose often in contrast to reader’s expectations. He’s unapologetic about his purpose. Readers react, some leave, yet many still read. Many will call me an apologist (or worst) in my siding with Erikson on this. Because the inconsistencies don’t matter. They aren’t the point. Look deeper. Read deeper. Forget the lists. Look for the point of it all.

 

And if you find it, let me know. Because I’ll freely admit that I’m still looking – I’ve found much, but the joy is that there is always more to find. And that is the point.

 

And now that it’s time to wind down my rant as become a bit milder it’s time to quote Erikson yet again from an essay recently posted at Tor.com.

 

To be honest, a part of me wants to reach through the inter-ether, close hands on neck, and shout TRUST ME!

 

And while that may seem a bit conciliatory, he can’t help but follow up with

While another part of me, railing even louder in my mind, wants to add a brain-rattling shake and say IT’S NOT AS IMPORTANT AS YOU THINK!

 

But, read the essay, it’s not as bad as it seems with those out-of-context quotes.

New Steven Erikson Interview

There is a new interview with Steven Erikson up over at Pat's Fantasy Hotlist. Myself, a couple other bloggers, and the fans over at Malazan helped out with the questions. Sure I'm biased, but I think it's a great interview. And I knew that Erikson was Cotillion! It's also pretty cool that he called out my review of the series - that felt good.

Review: The Malazan Book of the Fallen by Steven Erikson

I’m going to state it right out – The Malazan Book of the Fallen by Steven Erikson is the most ambitious epic fantasy series ever written – this is both its greatest strength and greatest weakness. Rather than ambition, fans of epic fantasy are much more likely to honor tradition and nostalgia, but the genre has come far from where it was effectively defined by The Lord of the Rings and fans have grown as well. These days gritty and subversion seem to be the buzz words of fantasy fans, and while The Malazan Book of the Fallen certainly meets both in numerous ways, it really is much more.

It’s been ambitious since the start when Erikson proposed Malazan to be a 10-book series back in the 1990s – there was never any trilogy-creep, this was always going this long. But of course it isn’t so simple – the series is not Erikson’s alone. The Malazan world was co-created with Ian C. Esslemont who has written three books of his own that support the series, with three more to come. While Erikson’s 10-book series is complete, once Esslemont finishes his parts it will be more complete, perhaps making this review a bit premature.

The Malazan world has its origins in Dungeon’s and Dragons and GURPS role-playing campaigns played out by Erikson and Esslemont and has since grown in ambition. In many ways the series is meant to be more of a response to epic fantasy than a part of it. Not in the same ‘FU’ manor as The First Law by Joe Abercrombie, but again as something more. Ultimately, it’s about the human condition and the cost of civilization, but again it’s more. The series is also about deception in something of a post-modern, meta-fictional way. While the foreshadowing is present, and even a rubric to the whole series buried in one of its volumes, it’s still difficult to see beneath surface. It’s all light, darkness and shadow with more than a bit of sleight of hand.

However, don’t let me mislead you into thinking that it’s not epic fantasy, because it is. Like most epic fantasy, this is a book of war and magic. And the magic plays an incredibly important role – it’s powerful…all-powerful. The scope and horror of magic is laid out from the beginning, while the mechanics of it remain an enigma. In every book we meet a hidden power that rises to tremendous, spectacular heights. Of course that’s the point of it – readers may want to call foul, may want to shout dues ex machina, but they miss the point.

The series begins as a tale of a conquering Malazan Empire that has overextended itself. In Gardens of the Moon (Book Depository, Powell’s Books, Indiebound) the reader is dumped strait into the middle of it all without the typical build-up. This can be exhilarating, overwhelming, and off-putting, though I found it immensely rewarding. We get a feel for a mix of races and species that is huge and a rich world history with gods and other powerful immortals that literally walk the land, interfering with mortal lives. Though some mortals interfere right back, for gods can die too. It’s through this complex tapestry that Erikson focuses on humanity. Every soldier is a philosopher, every person an everyman (or everywoman, though even with numerous female characters, the series has an overwhelming male-ness to it), with the view of it all is just as often through pawns as kings and queens.

‘These Malazans, they shame the gods themselves…’

An important point the series is put right in the series title, perhaps the most important point: The Malazan Book of the Fallen. It’s the word fallen that focuses it all. For this series is not (necessarily) about those that live to fight another day, to see another book, who survive the ultimate convergence of power – this series is about the people who fall along the way. The price, the toll, the compassion, the sacrifice, and eventually, the reward. This is a series where the dead tend to not go away and the fallen may not die. Each book itself shows something new, a new style, a new theme within the overall series, but in the end there is a method to the madness of it all.

I will remember this. I will set out scrolls and burn upon them the names of these Fallen. I will make of this work a holy tome, and no other shall be needed.

Hear them! They are humanity unfurled, laid out for all to see – if one would dare look!

There shall be a Book and it shall be written by my hand. Wheel and seek the faces of a thousand gods! None can do what I can do! Not one can give voice to this holy creation!

But this is not bravado. For this, my Book of the Fallen, the only god worthy of its telling is the crippled one. The broken one. And has it not always been so?

I never hid my hurts.

I never disguised my dreams.

And I never lost my way.
And only the fallen can rise again.

It’s in his ambition, this response to epic fantasy that Erikson gets in trouble. Yes, it’s epic fantasy in the extreme – the magic and powers overblown, the gods both more and less than they should be, the grunt suffering through it all somehow becomes the most powerful of all. It chafes fans of epic fantasy. It’s supposed to. Fans often decry the seeming over-emphasis on suffering, marching, the camp-fire conversations, the little people. While the action is incredible, it is interspersed with long and tedious ramblings that become philosophical and at times down-right didactic. While Erikson certainly over-indulges himself, many fans seemingly miss the point. Or perhaps they don’t care about the point. Many will fail to complete the journey of the series, many will be upset, disappointed, even angry with Erikson for what he writes. The criticisms often wielded only show Erikson how much they missed the point. Erikson plays with this in the text – often proactively for areas he knows that will bring especially pointed criticism. He knows these books aren’t for everyone, and that if everyone likes what you are doing, you are doing it wrong. But it clearly it stings, and sometimes Erikson seems to lash out in response.

‘Sad truth,’ Kruppe said – his audience of none sighing in agreement – ‘that a tendency towards verbal excess can so defeat the precision of meaning. That intent can be so well disguised in majestic plethora of nuance, of rhythm both serious and mocking, of this penchant for self-referential slyness, that the unwitting simply skip on past – imagining their time to be so precious, imagining themselves above all manner of conviction, save that of their own witty perfection. Sigh and sigh again.

Ultimately, there is a hope to it all – this is not the nihilistic proclamation so many claim. It’s a grand plan for the better of humanity. Only at times the darkness, the faults and flaws, and humanity itself seemingly deserve no hope.

‘Hedge was waiting, seated on one of the tilted standing stones. ‘Hood take us all,’ he said, eyeing Fiddler as he approached. ‘They did it – her allies – they did what she needed them to do.’
Aye. And how many people died for [it]?’

…’Little late to be regretting all that now, Fid.’

‘…They used all of us Hedge.’

‘That’s what gods do, aye. So you don’t like it? Fine, but listen to me. Sometimes, what they want – what they need us to do – sometimes it’s all right. I mean, it’s the right thing to do. Sometimes, it makes us better people.’

‘You really believe that?’

‘And when we’re better people, we make better gods.’

Fiddler looked away. ‘It’s hopeless, then. We can stuff a god with every virtue we got, it still won’t make us any better, will it? Because we’re not good with virtues, Hedge.’

‘Most of the time, aye, we’re not. But maybe then, at our worst, we might look up, we might see that god we made out of the best in us. Not vicious, not vengeful, not arrogant or spiteful. Not selfish, not greedy. Just clear-eyed, with no time for all our rubbish. The kind of god to give us a slap in the face for being such shits.’
…’Ever the optimist, you’

This review both coincidently and intentionally reads like the series itself – perhaps full of insight, perhaps full of bullshit, always seeming a bit of mess. It’s overly long (at least compared to what I tend to write), it’s defensive, dismissive, disagreeable and likely to piss a few people off. The review is journey, a misinterpretation, and it gets it right. And it’s ever self-aware, perhaps to a fault. It’s the most ambitious review I’ve ever written.

The Malazan Book of the Fallen isn’t for everyone, and in many ways it may not be for fans of epic fantasy. While it is absolutely for the fans. And it’s the most ambitious epic fantasy out there – period. Though the Malazan series by Erikson is over, something of an epilogue remains to be written by Esslemont and Erikson has promised two more trilogies and a continuation of the novellas set in the world. The dead don’t stay dead. The fallen may not be who you think they are and can rise again. Perfect.

And now the page before us blurs.

An age is done. The book must close.

We are abandoned to history.

Raise high one more time the tattered standard

Of the Fallen. See through the drifting smoke

To the dark stains upon the fabric.

This is the blood of our lives, this is the

Payment of our deeds, all soon to be

Forgotten.

We were never what people could be.

We were only what we were.

Remember us

Untitled poem at the end of The Crippled God

Review: The Crippled God by Steven Erikson

It seems everyone loves to complain about books taking too long to get here, that author ___ needs to hurry up and finish their series. The truth is that there is more to the actual end of a series – assuming the series is any good (and you probably think it is if you read to the end), then mixed emotions dominate. Resolution is great, you know the end. However what eventually sets in and tends to dominate is a sense of loss. With the completion of Steven Erikson’s mammoth 10-book series, Tales of the Malazan Book of the Fallen, in The Crippled God (Book Depository, Powell’s Books, Indiebound), the sense of loss is overwhelming, partly because of all those dark, bitter, yet strangely hopeful characters that I don’t want to see go, but mostly because of the weight of a series that titles itself a ‘Book of the Fallen’. Yes, the ending was everything I could have hoped for – I laughed and cried – but the fallen, literal and figurative, haunt me still.

Now comes the disclaimer I give every time I review one of Steven Erikson’s books. I’m a huge fan of this series, and since this review is a review of the tenth book in a series, things I say may spoil events that happen in the first nine. I don’t reveal anything huge, but be warned. Forget objectivity – for one, I don’t believe that objectivity in reviewing truly exists and I also feel that striving for it is a mistake. I embrace my subjectivity, and in this case I’m a Malazan fanboy.

While Erikson has been building to this conclusion for 10 books, books 8 and 9 (Toll the Hounds and Dust of Dreams, respectively) really start to lay out the true scope of the series. In Toll the Hounds we start to appreciate the price, the toll that is being paid by the everyman and woman in a tapestry of events designed to force a conclusion. In Dust of Dreams the resulting suffering of the price is so overwhelming that nearly all hope is lost. In my review of Dust of Dreams I said: “I can hardly imagine anything close to a happy ending for this series.” Erikson answers this in The Crippled God – he gives us hope, he gives us sacrifice, he gives us salvation. And yes, for some, he even gives us a happy ending.

Erikson is often criticized for being overly nihilistic in his writing. Yes, things can be dark and yes his characters often come to hard times and wonder if there is a point to it. But to call Erikson’s writing nihilistic is to miss the point entirely. As I so often find with Erikson, quotes from the books say it much better than I could ever.

Hedge was waiting, seated on one of the tilted standing stones. ‘Hood take us all,’ he said, eyeing Fiddler as he approached. ‘They did it – her allies – they did what she needed them to do.’

‘Aye. And how many people died for [it]?’

…’Little late to be regretting all that now, Fid.’

‘…They used all of us Hedge.’

‘That’s what gods do, aye. So you don’t like it? Fine, but listen to me. Sometimes, what they want – what they need us to do – sometimes it’s all right. I mean, it’s the right thing to do. Sometimes, it makes us better people.’

‘You really believe that?’

‘And when we’re better people, we make better gods.’

Fiddler looked away. ‘It’s hopeless, then. We can stuff a god with every virtue we got, it still won’t make us any better, will it? Because we’re not good with virtues, Hedge.’

‘Most of the time, aye, we’re not. But maybe then, at our worst, we might look up, we might see that god we made out of the best in us. Not vicious, not vengeful, not arrogant or spiteful. Not selfish, not greedy. Just clear-eyed, with no time for all our rubbish. The kind of god to give us a slap in the face for being such shits.’

…’Ever the optimist, you’

This exchange sums up so much of what the series is about, and it certainly isn’t nihilism – in fact I think you could say it’s the exact opposite. This really is a tale of doing the right thing, saving the world, and finding meaning in life along the way. Only Erikson doesn’t sugarcoat anything – he makes you take a good, long, hard look at yourself in the mirror and face the ugliness in humanity and civilization. And through all the bad, he still sees something worth saving.

At over 900 pages, The Crippled God is a beast of a book. Erikson has become known for being a bit on the wordy side (understatement), and come under a bit of criticism for philosophical ramblings that add to the page count. For me, I often find great enjoyment in those ramblings, but must admit that I’ve only skimmed my fair share of them. In The Crippled God, these are largely absent – there is so much going on there isn’t the time or space. I won’t say this book doesn’t have a bit fluff to it, but compared to some of the more recent volumes in the series, it has much less.

In this series there are endless plots and subplots fans are eager to see through, and this is further complicated by those that will be finished in one way or another by Ian C. Esslemont, the co-creator of the Malazan world who has written three supporting novels with two more to come. Many of these plots do come to a resolution in The Crippled God, many do not. Some of the resolutions don’t appear to be coming, others may be a bit unsatisfying and still others too short or too forced. However, a good many are absolutely satisfying. The ultimate conclusion offers some very satisfying resolution to some of these plots – we know what happens to these guys (alive or dead), others just seem to fade away. And the deaths, well those can break hearts. In the end, we see the beginning – two gods visit the coast of Itko Kan and a weathered veteran gives advice to a child yearning to be a soldier.

A series coming to an end is a complicated thing – on one hand, it’s over, we know the end. On the other hand, the sense of loss can be overwhelming. Erikson’s The Crippled God takes the sense of loss to another level with the sheer magnitude of sacrifice – was the cost to save the world too high, no, but still… The victory is won, but the price staggering. It’s nearly the perfect ending to the series. In a recent message to his fans, Erikson said this:

 ‘I now share something with the Malazan Book of the Fallen: a ghostly presence in the wake of our lives. It haunts me, but in a good way. May it do the same, with a most benign touch, to you all.’

It haunts me too…in a good way. 8.5/10

And now the page before us blurs.

An age is done. The book must close.

We are abandoned to history.

Raise high one more time the tattered standard

Of the Fallen. See through the drifting smoke

To the dark stains upon the fabric.

This is the blood of our lives, this is the

Payment of our deeds, all soon to be

Forgotten.

We were never what people could be.

We were only what we were.

Remember us

Untitled poem at the end of The Crippled God

Related Posts: The Lees of Laughter's End review, Interview with Steven Erikson, Dust of Dreams Review, Toll the Hounds review, Reaper's Gale review, The Bonehunters review, Return of the Crimson Guard review

Steven Erikson on Writing, the Universe and Everything (as only he can say it)

Over at the Steven Erikson fan site Malazan Empire Steven Erikson has given a holiday message for his fans. This site is rather obscure if you’re not an Erikson fan and what he had to say hasn’t gone much further than the site. This is a real shame – it should be read by SFF authors and fans alike – it’s part essay, part love letter – heck, it even reads a bit like Paul rebuking some fledgling Christian population. It’s is simply good stuff.

Erikson discusses genre and its reputation in the literary world with some interesting bits. He also discusses the joy, pain and anger of privilege of knowing what your fans think. He explains a bit about his goals and desires in his writing – and he dishes out more than a bit of tough love for his fans. Then he answers fan questions directly – some are very specific, plot questions, some are bigger, some are interesting, others not. As I said above, good stuff.

A few juicy tidbits:

When even fans of the genre feel compelled to segregate and denigrate it, should someone be so presumptuous as to compare a genre work with real literature, and to then viciously attack the person in question for their temerity, can only leave a genre writer like me dismayed – and also a little angry. Why am I angry? I will explain.

For those who feel the need to attack the delight and excitement of one of my readers, when they discover something in one of my works that speaks to them on unique or surprising levels, next time send your vitriol my way instead. Take your shots at me if you feel the need to do such things: I can weather the storm easily enough, and if you care to argue literature over genre, fine. Let's.

If there is no challenge, no ambition, no risk of failure, what's the point?

'The first reader who reads this work and complains about loose ends, I will personally hunt down and shoot.'

Good form Mr. Erikson and thanks for the message. Also, don’t despair – some of us fans did indeed like Toll the Hounds.

Interview with Steven Erikson

A new interview with Steven Erikson has been posted over at Pat's Fantasy Hotlist. I helped out by giving Pat a few questions to ask.

Giveaway: 10th Anniversary Edition of Gardens of the Moon by Steven Erikson

I’ve got 5 copies of the 10th Anniversary Edition of Gardens of the Moon by Steven Erikson (US, UK, Canada, Indiebound) to giveaway courtesy of Transworld. This sounds like a great edition for fans and is the first hardback edition of GotM in the UK.

It’s been an astounding 10 years since the first Malazan title, Gardens of the Moon was published in the UK. To celebrate this we are releasing a special edition hardback of the title and I have a handful of these available for competition prizes for you to giveaway on your sites or in your magazines. This is the first ever UK hardback edition of the book and it includes a special foreword from Steven Erikson. Erikson’s Malazan Book of the Fallen has established itself as one of the most celebrated and acclaimed works of epic fantasy in the new Millennium.

Erikson is an extraordinary writer...my advice to anyone who might listen to me is: treat yourself to Gardens of the Moon.
STEPHEN R. DONALDSON

Bled dry by interminable warfare, infighting and bloody confrontations with Anomander Rake, Son of Darkness, the Malazan Empire simmers with discontent. Its legions yearn
for some respite from the chaos and killing.

For Sergeant Whiskeyjack and his Bridgeburners, and Tattersail - the lone surviving sorceress of the Second Legion - the aftermath of the siege of Pale should have been a time to draw breath and mourn the dead. But Empress Laseen's gaze has moved on and fallen upon the ancient citadel of Darujhistan. The last of the Free Cities of Genabackis, it proclaims its defiance and still holds out against her. However the empire is not alone in this great and bloody game. Sinister forces are gathering, and it would seem that the gods themselves are preparing to play their hand...

Gardens of the Moon is the defining opening chapter in what has been hailed a landmark of epic fantasy - Steven Erikson's awesome, multi-volume sequence, 'The Malazan Book of the Fallen'.

Rare is the writer who so fluidly combines a sense of mythic power and depth of world, with fully realized characters and thrilling action, but Steven Erikson manages it spectacularly.
MICHAEL A STACKPOLE

Gripping, fast-moving, delightfully dark...utterly engrossing.
ELIZABETH HAYDEN

A world that is both absorbing on a human level and full of magical sublimity...a wonderfully grand conception...splendidly written...fiendishly readable.
ADAM ROBERTS

I stand slack-jawed in awe of The Malazan Book of the Fallen. This masterwork of the imagination may be the high watermark of epic fantasy.
GLEN COOK

Erikson's strengths are his grown up characters and his ability to create a world every bit as intricate and messy as our own.
J. V. JONES

Entry is easy – just send me an email at nethspace [at] gmail [dot] com. Remove the anti-spam measures as appropriate or use the handy link in the sidebar. Include GARDENS as the email subject and make sure to include your full mailing address. Only one entry per person and this contest is open to anyone. The contest is open for 2 weeks – so make sure you enter by November 17th.

Review: Dust of Dreams by Steven Erikson

When it comes to titling a book, few authors approach Steven Erikson for shear appropriateness. Dust of Dreams (US, UK, Canada, Indiebound) really does represent the words of the book that follows.

The statues shifted. Some straightened. Some hunched down as if beneath terrible burdens. The statures – my kin. My sisters, my brothers. There are none to look upon us now, none to see us, none to wonder at who we once were, at who shaped us with such … loving hands. As she watched, they began, one by one, falling into dust.

None to witness. Dust of dreams, dust of all that we never achieved. Dust of what we might have been and what we cannot help but be.

Statues are never mute. There silence is a roar of words. Will you hear? Will you listen?

How depressing. Erikson is often criticized and occasionally praised for an apparent nihilistic approach to writing The Malazan Book of the Fallen. The above quote certainly leans in that direction and after reading Dust of Dreams I can hardly imagine anything close to a happy ending for this series. The weight of the world grows heavier. The suffering of children is shown in horrid detail through a detached, defeated view. Soldiers march knowingly to their death. Entire peoples are destroyed. Hopes and dreams are reduced to dust and through dust unrealized hopes and dreams are shown. Humans and other species alike seemed doomed to never change, seemed doomed to destroy.

Yet hope, however small, however unlikely, remains. Sometimes people do change, sometimes evolution does happen. Sometimes mistakes of the past are learned from.

Dust of Dreams is the penultimate volume in Erikson’s magnum opus, The Malazan Book of the Fallen – though it may be more appropriate to consider it the first half of the final volume. It ends over a cliff that will leave many reeling. It is simply a beautiful mess. The timeline is a mess best left alone. Hundreds of names confound. Erikson is overly wordy, plots can trudge along at a minuscule pace, everyone is a philosopher, and you can’t walk 10 feet without tripping over another all-powerful being hiding in plain site who saves the day at the critical moment. Yet, Erikson shows a skill with prose far exceeding what has become accepted in epic fantasy. Erikson weaves a deep and meaningful thematic tapestry through the sword and sorcery. And Erikson will make you exclaim ‘Holy Shit!’ This is the best epic fantasy out there – and it’s a complete mess likely to drive away many a reader. Like so much in the series itself, there is an inherit duality.

As I discuss in my review of Toll the Hounds (US, UK, Canada, Indiebound), The Malazan Book of the Fallen presents an interesting conundrum – while generally the focus is on those that live to fight another day, this series may be best viewed with a focus on those that die along the way. It is about the Fallen – just as the title says. Behind the series of wars that revolve around a central conflict among the gods where ancient species war and human pawns that just might attain checkmate, is the cost, the toll, the consequence and the dead – the real story. And then Erikson throws a wrench in it all – even when someone is dead, their ultimate purpose may just be beginning.

Yes, this ‘review’ is largely the pseudo-intellectual musing of an unabashed fanboy of Erikson’s writing. I have completely ignored such details as plot – this is the ninth book of a ten book series, the plot is largely irrelevant for an exploration like this – but, if needed, Pat’s Fantasy Hotlist exhaustively provides the set-up. Larry Nolen of the OF Blog of the Fallen and I don’t always see eye to eye, but we have a very similar approach to this series and his review of Dust of Dreams helped reinforce and expand on some of my own reactions. Let me be clear, I love the plot – Erikson continually blows my mind – yet, he can be excruciatingly annoying at times. But I am ever fascinated by the writing between the lines, even when attached to overly-verbose musings that go on for pages.

What does it all mean? Well, that’s been the question since the first page of Gardens of the Moon (US, UK, Canada, Indiebound). I don’t have an answer yet. The set-up points to something very bad, very depressing. Yet the words not spoken show a dogged hope that simply won’t be annihilated. I can’t wait to find out. 7.5/10

Related Posts: Interview with Steven Erikson, Toll the Hounds review, Reaper's Gale review, The Bonehunters review, The Lees of Laughter's End review, Return of the Crimson Guard review, Crack'd Pot Trail Review

Dust of Dreams Prologue Available

I love going to the mailbox because I never know what book(s) I may be getting. Today one of those books that came is the mmpb edition of Toll the Hounds by Steven Erikson - which I've reviewed already. But, included at the end is a nice teaser for the next book, Dust of Dreams - the Prologue.

So, I went over to the Malazan forums to see if it was up there and found that it wasn't posted yet. So, I incurred a bit of wrath and envy, but now a version of the Prologue that the admins had been sitting on to see if was final or not has been posted - translation, you can go read it.

The cover art is included as well - I'll see about getting it up since I haven't seen it posted yet. EDIT: included now.

Review: Toll the Hounds by Steven Erikson

Toll:
(v) ring slowly
(v) charge a fee for using
(n) value measured by what must be given or done or undergone to obtain something

As I sit here somewhat shell-shocked after reading Toll the Hounds (US, UK, Canada) by Steven Erikson, I can’t help but reflect on how perfectly the title fits. At once evocative and somewhat confounding to the tongue, I almost want to question if the title is correct. In the end, whether you attribute the title to a verb or noun, it is the ideal representation of the words contained within in what may be the best written volume so far in Steven Erikson’s momentous epic fantasy series: The Malazan Book of the Fallen.

Toll the Hounds is the eighth volume in this ten-volume series, and it took me until the seventh figure out what I feel is one of the most important perspectives with which to approach this series – this is the story of the fallen. The obvious perspective to approach an epic tale with is to concentrate on the living, the survivors – I think to understand the true heart of this series one must concentrate on the fallen, those that don’t live to see the end. The war central to it all is not a simple war or a series of separate-but-related wars – this is a war of the gods encompassing all and nothing is immune. Death can visit anyone – soldiers, bystanders, and the gods themselves. It’s the stories of those that don’t survive that provide the sad lessons and depressing hope – they are the price, the toll.

In Toll the Hounds Erikson returns to the beginning – the continent and remaining survivors we first meet in Gardens of the Moon (US, UK, Canada), the first book in the series. The endgame is approaching and it's all the more appropriate that we go back to where it began for us – the great and independent city of Darujhistan. A large number of threads are woven together in ever increasing anticipation of the biggest convergence of power yet to occur, a convergence with a shattering toll. If you are really interested in a plot summary – Pat exhaustively provides – but I’ll leave it at this is the extension of the story fans have been following for the previous seven volumes.

For the eighth volume of The Malazan Book of the Fallen, Erikson shifts his writing style a bit. Always on the verbose side, things are notched up as Toll the Hounds is partially narrated by the humorous, often-confusing, often-annoying, Kruppe – a rotund man who loves the sound of his voice, good pastry and wine. This approach, along with many of the characters followed, leads to a more introspective feel for the book, especially in the first half. Combined with the shear number of subplots followed, the beginning feels slow, disorientating, and overwritten – in spite of the improved skill Erikson is clearly wielding. At 200 pages into Toll the Hounds, I believed this was a bad decision; at 400 pages I was thinking my earlier judgment may have been hasty. By the end of the book I was fully convinced of the correctness of this choice and somewhat awed by the skill wielded by Erikson.

Erikson’s shift in style will certainly rub some readers the wrong way – it makes an already verbose writer even more so. The number of plots feels unnecessary, especially toward the beginning of the book, and disorients the reader. However, late in novel, I feel the following passage answers these criticisms.

‘Sad truth,’ Kruppe said – his audience of none sighing in agreement – ‘that a tendency towards verbal excess can so defeat the precision of meaning. That intent can be so well disguised in majestic plethora of nuance, of rhythm both serious and mocking, of this penchant for self-referential slyness, that the unwitting simply skip on past – imagining their time to be so precious, imagining themselves above all manner of conviction, save that of their own witty perfection.' Sigh and sigh again.

At first I was unconvinced by this shift for a volume so late in an already established series – I thought that this approach would make for a singularly spectacular stand-alone novel, but was misplaced in the later half of a series. The concentration on so many subplots didn’t work at the start. However, by the end, I realized why it does work and why it fits so well with Erikson’s thematic goals. Erikson has always shown us the everyman (or everywoman), be it a soldier, assassin, caravan guard, or town drunk. His story of a great war among the gods is largely told not from the perspective of the leaders, the powerful, the nobles, but from the grunt on the front lines who doesn’t know what is going on. Toll the Hounds is no different – and it’s the very realization of that toll on everyman and everywoman that Erikson wants us to see. Toll the Hounds accomplishes this aim better than most of the volumes in The Malazan Book of the Fallen.

Erikson often falls to the temptation of becoming overly condemning of the modern world in his writing – in such a way that looses subtly, jerking the reader from that wonderfully realized world and hurting the story at hand. Toll the Hounds dials this down a bit – Erikson is every bit as condemning, but the in-your-face and almost didactic feel isn’t present. Likewise, in previous volumes, the humor so often attempted feels forced, while in Toll the Hounds, he balances it just right. One scene is sure to rise above the rest, with a high-noon style confrontation, paying satirical homage to a medieval joust, that had me hearing an Ennio Morricone soundtrack in a Sergio Leone setting. With all the surrounding tragedy – it’s this scene that sticks with me (of course that’s the way of my sense of humor).

Fully realizing that I am a biased fanboy when it comes to this series, Toll the Hounds is a clear improvement over the previous two volumes and possibly the best effort yet. I am more convinced than ever that Erikson is writing the best and most powerful epic fantasy series around and I’m already eagerly anticipating the next volume – Dust of Dreams (US, UK, Canada). In spite of what some will feel to be weaknesses, Toll the Hounds is a superior entry in The Malazan Book of the Fallen and the most thrilling read I’ve had in a long time. 8.5/10

Related Posts: Interview with Steven Erikson, Reaper's Gale review, The Bonehunters review, The Lees of Laughter's End review, Return of the Crimson Guard review, Crack'd Pot Trail Review

Steven Erikson Answers Questions Five

Steven Erikson leaped on to the epic fantasy scene a few years ago with his debut fantasy novel, Gardens of the Moon, the beginning of an ambitious 10-book series: The Malazan Book of the Fallen. It’s often a case of love them or hate ‘em when it comes to his books, but he has a rabid fan base that I count myself a part of. Publishing the books at rate of about 1 book a year, 7 of the 10 are already published with Toll the Hounds due out later this year. And, in my opinion, his shorter fiction is even better.

I am pleased welcome Steven Erikson to Questions 5.


What is the perfect cup of coffee for writing your books? Do ever need something a bit more…leaded?

SE: I’m pretty consistent with a skinny latte, two shots, no foam (crazy that I need to specify no foam, since if I wanted foam I’d ask for a cappuccino, wouldn’t I?). As for ‘more leaded,’ no, barring the occasional shot of industrial flame retardant and a spritzer of malathion.

How is said cup of coffee (and/or leaded beverage) reflected in your writing?

SE: As far as I can tell, it isn’t. Coffee exists to sustain detectable life signs in what would otherwise be a clinically dead writer (in this case, anyway). Coffee’s reflection on my writing is evinced in that I am actually writing. Without it, a vast ominous silence would ensue.

Far into the future, the equivalent of an archaeologist from a significantly advanced culture (not necessarily a human culture) unearths a set of The Malazan Book of the Fallen. What theories about us might they come up with?

SE: Well, having been an archaeologist, you’d think I’d have a glib answer for this one. I don’t. There’d probably be a huge debate over the veracity of the ‘history’ as I’ve written it, inasmuch as say, people still argue Homer (bronze age/iron age, gods and goddesses, etc), so will people one day argue the cultural specificity of revered religious icons in holy sites like Hollywood, as well as those wearing ceremonial headgear (baseball caps, football helmets, etc). Anyway, a lot depends on how much other stuff survived, and whether or not the next species has a different concept of physics that might accommodate magic and miracles and godly visitations. More likely, our inheritors will simply eat the paper remnants while thinking about other, more important things, like: wouldn’t it be nice if the planet wasn’t one giant desert?

What peculiar qualities of The Malazan Book of the Fallen should readers be aware of?

SE: I really haven’t the foggiest. It’s about people, mostly normal people, and it’s not necessarily told in a linear fashion, but everything fits together. Also, I believe in the cathartic value of tragedy – if my readers don’t, then they’re in for a rough ride.

Why should The Malazan Book of the Fallen be the next thing that everyone reads?

SE: When all ten books are done, they’ll look awesome on a book shelf. You know, it’s almost impossible for me to answer a question like that – I wish I could. I wish I could just lay out the sales pitch, but I can’t. My sales pitch is there, word by word and line by line in the books I write. I hope people buy in and I hope they enjoy the experience. When they do, I’m happy, and I write more, which is what I love doing – so, all I can promise is that I’ll keep to my side of the bargain and hold faith that my readers will reciprocate. Writing is a dialogue. When writers tilt noses up and say they write only for themselves, they’re full of rubbish. If it was true, they’d feel no need to get their work published; they could just stick it on the shelf and leave it there. We engage in a dialogue, with people most of whom we’ve never met – and if the story we tell does its job, we find in it common ground. And therein lies the reward for everyone involved.

Pax Malazica
Steven Erikson