Code and Codex - Yoon Ha Lee

Code and Codex is the latest from Yoon Ha Lee, whose previous entries - from sci-fi triumph Ninefox Gambit to virtuoso fantasy performance Phoenix Extravagant have always been startlingly original, thoughtful works, with a grandness of scope belied by the intimacy of the characterisations layered within the narrative. In good news, that's happened again. Code and Codex takes place in an entirely new universe, filled with some deeply strange and terrible places, and some even stranger and far more terrible people. 

This is the universe ruled by the Censorate, a polity that takes the idea that words shape reality extremely seriously. Their main export is language. Not necessarily their language, but language. Because once they can make themselves understood, they can start changing the universe around them, one phoneme at a time. Of course, they also export military expeditionary forces (led by ships seemingly armoured with pages of sayings from their great philosphers) and ecological destruction/ They're also not above doing a bit of wet work here and there, in order to make sure that unruly worlds eventually fall in line - their specialists carrying blades that obliterate memory, or remove the ability so understand a language entirely. They're..well, I won't delve too deeply into what they are, but I will say that the author has done an excellent job of making the Censorate feel like a place that could exist, that feels like it does exist, and which I devoutly hope I never see the inside of.A place where humanity is disposable, and those at the top never really see the consequences of their actions.

Speaking of the top, the exception to this rule is the Basilisk. Commander of the Censorate fleet, long enough ago that nobody's entirely sure how long its been. Arch-traitor, a man whose very gaze can kill, who used that power to incinerate the very soldiers under his command. And then, rather than fight, surrendered, and has spent the intervening time in a very dark hole indeed. Looking to ask some very significant questions of the Basilisk is the Swan, the Censorate's enforcer, and someone who has something of a conflicted sense of self - her own, and that of other people.The Swan (aka Valentina, aka Val, aka "Oh shit she erased that entire person with a sword") is a woman used to service. A woman who lives to defend her foster-sister and ruler. A woman who has fought her way up from nothing, and is now asking questions about the Censorate. About what it is, about who it's for, about the systems that sustain it - but also trying to work within that system, trying to make it better, stronger, getting it to serve her sister well. 

And Val would love the Basilisk to hand over the keys of his killing gaze to the rest of the Censorate.

This is, I don't know how to put it, a very opdd story. It dives back through time, looking at Val and her background, and how she became the Swan. It delves into her relationship with her foster-sister, now leader of the Censorate, and general ne'er-do-well. And it shifts viewpoints from time to time over to The Falcon, an initially mysterious interlocutor who has their own agenda. It feels like a space opera, but it seems to reveal itself over time as more an exploration of character, of personalities, the ways they can be shaped and defined by a system, and the ways they can integrate or destroy that system both within themselves and outside it. It feels like a, and I know this is an oxymoron, a gently angry book, one which explores serious themes - revolution, continuity, the power of language and censorship, the capacity and the definitions of freedom and responsibility, as a society and an individual - but folds them into engrossing character drama, like, well, origami swans. 

It's a very Yoon Ha Lee book. Strange and wonderful and sometimes deeply weird, but always personal, always thoughtful, always emotional, and always telling a damn good story. Which, given the pedigree, is no real surprise. So if any of that sounds like it's for you, then go give Code and Codex a try. 

Back next week!

 Everyone is sick, sorry! But we'll be back next week.

The Dragon Waiting - John M. Ford

The Dragon Waiting is a book out of time. First published in the mid-nineteen-eighties, it's multi-faceted and complex, managing to lay out a complex, believable alternate history, layered over with literary and classical allusion, and then populate it with human (and...ahuman) characters with all the depth, the wants and needs and tragedies and joys of real people. And on top of that John M. Ford builds a story that has you turning pages in anticipation of finding out what happens next and also leaves you wanting more, wanting the end to never quite arrive. And to his credit, while there is an end, there's a sense of roads not taken, of paths unexplored, of possibilities unplumbed - a sense that this is a story in a larger, wilder mosaic. I think it's been in rights hell (or something similar) for some time, having only recently seen a reprint. But it's now available in both regular and e-book form for us all to enjoy, and so here we are.

John M. Ford sets out to portray a world where the Roman Empire (or at least the Eastern half) never fell, where Emperor Justin didn't get himself ill-advisedly murdered in an eastern war, and instead rolled back the adoption of Christianity as a state religion - leaving all the other religions as equal, or more so, than the dominant theology of our modern West. The cult of Mithras is especially present, and delving into their rites and roles is a joy - they're strange, but not alien. And there's other elements at play as well. The Milanese republic rears its head, faced with a resurgent and expansionist Byzantium. But so does Britain, held together by a semi-mythical Arthur, warring on the Welsh and their mountains and their wizards, while holding a border in France - no longer a powerhouse in its own right, but a medieval Casablanca, with a captive and (mostly) impotent monarch.

Oh, did I say wizards? Well yes. Here there be dragons. And magic.  The kind of magic that can kill you quite dead, that allows for moving faster than seven-league boots, but always demands a price, in blood or sanity or, well, something. But they're there, the wonder-workers, if not common then known, incorporated seamlessly into their societies. And with them come, of all things, vampires, one part monster, one part human, struggling for control, regarded as a sickness, as a horror, but not as a legend. Whether they are, whether they can be considered human is something the text explores, while also marvelling at their monstrosity. And again, this feels perfectly natural, in the tale itself, because the history, the context, the story supports it with a mixture of obviously deeply researched detail, and a richly vivid sense of place and person that makes those elements stride off the page, possibly to bite you in the neck or use you as a magical sacrifice. It's a world with he kind of layers of meaning and thought that you usually find take ten books to set up, and here it comes at you from the first page.

 The same can be said for the characters; we have the son of a Byzantine aristocrat, unexpectedly on the run, we have a Welsh Wizard, we have an Italian apothecary, we have a Germanic vampire, and a host of nobles and schemers and noble schemers (and the reverse). And we see them across time and space, and also delve into their motivations and what they want and how they got to be who and what they were, and the price they paid, or are still paying, and the choices that define them - or don't.These are people, and you can feel when they have an agenda, revel in their joy, see their long-held trauma winding tighter, see their tragedies and the way it shapes them. In short, you can see them as people, and in each case there's more to be seen and felt than is said on the page - this is a book that isn't afraid to leave the unspoken word right there for the reader to pick up (or not), isn't afraid to have inference and background behaviour drive the story while the foreground does a magic trick and manages to be both a distraction and vitally important in itself. These are people who have, much like the rest of us, too much going on to see it all realised on the page. They're wonderful and terrible and horrible and delightful all at once, as we all are, and that makes them real, and it also makes us care.

The story I shan't spoil, except to say that it approaches itself from about ten different directions, all of them vital, all of them somehow as important as the others, all of them fascinating - with a denouement which delivers.

This is a book filled with big ideas, which expresses them cleverly, and is not afraid to ask that its reader think, pay attention, and think again. It's also filled with lavish, literary prose and the kind of world and characters that will leave you in a daze as you wrap up, wanting to know more, to feel more. It is, in short, a very good book.

Mortedant's Peril - R.J. Barker

Full disclosure, I've been a fan of R.J. Barker for years, so I went into Mortedant's Peril predisposed to like it. Fortunately (at least for me!), it proved to be an entertaining read, with the smart, quiet depth to the worldbuilding that I've come to expect from Barker. And the characters, who can, from time to time, straddle the border between "in their redemption era" and "actually really quite annoying". The story, too wends its way around, with enough twists and turns that I always felt I was almost, but not quite able to predict. It's probably worth saying, if you've worked your way through Barkers other books, that this one is, well, less grim. And funnier. There's still a hard iron edge to it, we're still dealing in blood and poison and knives in the dark, but tonally it's definitely less grim than, say, his excellent Wyrdwood series, and all the more readable for it. 

The focus of the story is on the titular Mortedant, Irody Hasp. Irody Hasp is...abrasive. Obnoxiously selfish. Struggles to think about the impact of his actions on others. And really very classist. He's...not a bad person, but one living in the fog of his own assumptions, some of which will be...rather strongly challenged, shall we say, over the course of the story. And, of course, Irody Hasp can speak to dead people. Not all the time of course, that would be silly. But the recently deceased, yes, he can delve into their final moments. Very helpful if one wants to settle an inheritance dispute, or solve a murder. Unfortunately for Irody Hasp, he's mired in some age-old scandal, and also sufficiently unlikable that nobody really wants to get him on their team - so he ekes out a living reading the dead he can scrounge up, along with his assistant. 

They live in, well, calling it a city probably doe sit no justice. An enormous, tiered urban conurbation, topped by a castle guarded by invincible magical soldiery. Ones position on the tiers directly equates to ones quality of life. And Irody Hasp's position on the tiers is, well, slipping. But the city, well the city itself sings its own song, it feels like the sort of place one could live. Not enjoy living, of course, no, not that at all. But it has the blood and history and tang of change about it that makes the space feel alive. It's populated by religious cults, some of whom are desperate to see the end of the world, the rise of the god they worship, or ideally both, and some of whom just want to help people get through their day with a modicum if spiritual comfort. There's  alchemical wizards, building mechanical marvels powered by spirits. There's the Ringfire, a sweeping conflagration that regularly sterilises the boundary of the tiered city (and anything unfortunate enough to be in its path). There's the Mortedant's, of course, and the inhabitants of the lower tiers, who're just trying to get by with a bit of light thievery and the oiccasional housebreaking.They roll into each other, blend together in a way that feels very real. Hasp's home has a sense of texture, a grounded sense of place that is rare on the page.

Speaking of Hasp...well, I rather enjoyed sitting on his shoulder. Hasp is a smart person, struggling with a past that has left him professionally a persona non grata. But he's so wrapped up in himself, in his own desire to be left alone, to not have to deal with people, that he misses things, he hurts others, he struggles where perhaps he doesn't have to. Part of his journey is learning to, well, unclench a little bit, and see the world outside of his own preconceptions and his own decision to close it out. He makes up for being somewhat abrasive by seeming to care about his friends and associates, by having a sense of reaching out, even when he doesn't realise it. And Hasp has a ready wit, and a strong investigative bent. As he digs around in various dark corners and old sins, I couldn't say I knew what was going to happen next any more than he did - and as time went on, he grew on me. In this he's helped by Barker's usual ability to craft a compelling supporting cast, all of whom seem to have their own personalities, their own wants and needs - they're not just foils, but people. 

In the end though, you need the story to make the characters and setting work. And this, well, ha, it's a thoroughly entertaining mystery, one that gets weirder and more deadly as time goes on, so that each turn of the page feels like it raises the stakes a little bit. But it's not just a plot, it's a story of people, their weakness, their courage, their needs, their compassion. It's fun above all, and it'll make you feel. What better recommendation is there? This one's a winner, and I look forward to any (many) more.

 

Minimum Wage Magic - Rachel Aaron

Minimum Wage Magic is, basically, a good time. It has mages (as you might expect) and monsters, and an interesting setting. It has a feisty heroine who isn't afraid to get into a scrap when she needs to, and a soupcon of romance simmering away in the background. It's a fast, entertaining read which hits a lot of beats and manages to keep them compelling in a relatively small package. I tore through it in a day or two, and had fun the entire time - its a snappy, entertaining read.

Ok, so that's the tl;dr, but, you know, what is it? Well, for one thing, it's Opal's story. Opal is a magical Cleaner. She buys the right to clean out the apartments of those behind on their rent in the rather law-optional Detroit Free Zone (more on that later). Sometimes those apartments are full of valuable magical artifacts and interesting knick-knacks. Sometimes they're full of rats and interesting (in a different way) magical traps. After a run of bad luck, Opal owes someone a rather large amount of money, and she needs it sooner rather than later. Yesterday, for preference. And Opal is a protagonist whose shoulder it's fun to sit on. She's smart, thoughtful, and has a mortal grounding at odds with her externally cynical demeanour. There's a suggestion of long-runnung Issues in the background - having gone to a prestigious school for mages, she's somehow at the bottom of the social and business ladder. And who she owes that money to and why it's so worrying is another question. But Opal also has energy, and a willingness to keep moving, to pick up the ball and run with it in an unexpected direction. Sometimes thgat's to her detriment, as she's pushing toward running on empty, but the flaws she has, the grudges and old pain she bears are part of what makes her feel like a fully-realised person, and one it would probably be fun (albeit dangerous) toi hang out with. A woman determined to make herself an island of splendid isolation, she cares about her friends too much to make it stick - and is charming, awkward, funny, and also willing to kick her enemies in the pants from time to time. 

After all, she does live in the DFFZ. The Detroit Free Zone, run by a colossal spirit which cares more about the wildlife of what was once Detroit, rather than its human and other magical inhabitants, is an area where laws are optional. Where police arrive on a contract basis only, and where everything is open to negotiation.  It's a seething cauldron of magical creatures, at least some of which are inimicable to people in general, and some of whom seem to dislike Opal in particular. There's spirits wending through the open-market organ trade, and worse than dragons stalking the back-alley cyber-parlors. The DFZ is a place where anyone can become anything they want, if they're skilled enough and ruthless enough and willing ti fight every inch of the way for it. It feels like Casablanca but without the moral compass, a place where anything is possible, but also, unfortunately, anything is possible. For all that though, it has the grime and shine of a real city, the power structures and complexities that make a place feel lived in, feel alive.

And the story...well, I shan't spoil it. But it kicks off very quickly, and then never really slows down. Opal moves from crisis to crisis, just trying to put food on the table, make her monthly payments and survive the results of the last crisis. And in doing so she gets involved in avoiding assassins as well as accountants and competitors, A non-zero amount of her time is spent investigating what she needs to find, and then trying to escape the attentions of the many interested parties that want to get hold of it themselves. On the plus side, as a mage, she has a more thnan human cap[acity to keep herself alive, and from time to time blow other stuff up.

Minimum Wage Magic is an exciting blend of near-future science fantasy, one which kept me turning the pages with engaging characterisation, a carefully detailed, well-travelled world, and a story that never let up. Give it a try! 

Honor for the Dead - Connor Ludovissy

Honor for the Dead is a thoughtful, character-driven and above all entertaining piece of what we're now calling "flintlock fantasy", Flintlock fantasy, if you're unfamiliar, intersects fantasy worlds with the technical and social aura of the 19th century - blackpowder muskets and smoothbore pistols sitting alongside monsters and dark magic. It's a bit of a niche of its own inside the genre, and another entrant in the field is always welcome. 

It helps that Honor for the Dead is rather good. 

The story focuses on Ao, a villager-turned-infantryman for a nation which seems to be sitting on the edge of the war with its neighbour, the auspiciously named "Kings". Quite who started the war, and what they#re getting out of it, is unclear, at least as the story begins. But Ao is quick to discover that war isn't as much heroic last stands, glory and victory parades as it is blood, and mud, and dead friends. The text is unflinching in showing the costs of conflict, though it also makes time to show us the courage and tenacity of the soldiers as well. 

Ao is a compassionate, empathetric individual, with a fairly well developed sense of right and wrong. He's also a member of an ethnic minority that is at best tolerated, and at worst violently discriminated against. His struggle to shape who he is to fit social expectations while also still being himself is fascinating to read, especially as he's still trying to decide who he is, even while working out what the military expects of him. Ao just wants to do his best, doesn't want to be defined by what his family have done, or what his people have done, wants to step out and be a hero.  It soudns simple, but as we turn the pages, Ao discovers that all of these things are more complex than they appear on the surface. If his family have a history of desertion, was it justified? If his people are discriminated against, is it worth asking why, and how much is he willing to tolerate it? If there's a war, what started it, who benefits, and how does it end? If Ao isn't just a simple farm boy, then who is he? As a protagonist, Ao is a lot of fun to spend time with, and if his moral wrestling sometimes drags a little, he makes up for it with resilience and a genuine desire to do good. Whether that's going to work out, on the other hand, is anyone's guess.

In his defence, Ao is surrounded by people who are somewhere between moral ambivalence and outright psychosis. Fellow new soldiers get the shine knocked off of them very quickly, and his officers are either pragmatic killers, or individuals sufficiently out of their depth that their capacity for doing terrible things is far greater than the constraints set out to stop them. There's some question of who the antagonist is for this story - the enemy army, which wants to kill everyone, or members of Ao's own unit, who do a wonderful line in delicious malevolence with a side of brutality. Interestingly, the latter get their own viewpoint sections, and they're as unpleasantly compelling as you might expect. 

Ao (and his many, many enemies) live in a rich  world, with a history that I can feel just bubbling under the surface. Honestly, the local area is wonderfully described, to the point where I think I might be able to navigate it myself. The forests, mountains and horse-ranches have a deep sense of place, of having roots about them. I would have liked to hear more about the rest of the world, though - there are hints about the Kings, about why the nations work as they do, of a shared history, of mistakes, of places other than small villages on contested borders - but we don't get enough time to make them as real as I'd like. Still, perhaps this is something the next book will rectify. In the meanwhile, I shan't complain too much, because what we have  is a slice of space and time that has a real depth and texture to it.

And the story, well, there's a fair bit of military marching and muskets going off, and battles in close order (and otherwise). There's betrayal and disaster. There's more than one victory, some of which even stick. And there's a boy growing rapidly past his expectations and dreams into a man, one who may be able to change the course of, if not the war, at least his little patch of it, for the better. It's a snappy read, and one that kept my attention from the first page - and as such, I'd say it's worth giving Honor for the Dead a look. 

Back next week!

 We've been on vacation the last few weeks, we'll be back next week!