Half a King is the first in Joe Abercrombie’s “Shattered Sea”
trilogy. It follows Yarvi, the son of a
king, as he deals with falling into an unexpected position, making friends and
enemies, and learning about himself in a world somewhat reminiscent of that of
the Vikings. There’s questions about family, about doing what the world expects
or what you want, about duty and responsibility, love and loss, examined and
explored. There’s also a fair few murders – this is Abercrombie we’re talking
about, after all.
The world of the Shattered Sea (or at least Yarvi’s part of
it) has certain similarities to that of the Norse in the late antique period. There’s
a strong seafaring tradition, men setting out in boats for raiding, plunder,
and general troublemaking. This is matched with a strong martial tradition, one
where individual strength is prized, and battle-glory is a pathway to social
standing. The other side of this coin is soft power; this is provided by the Ministers,
professional healers, politicians and advisers. Where those in the warrior
professions tend to be men, the Ministers seem to largely be women. Their role,
nominally at least, is the service of peace – through diplomacy and the
occasional ruthless exercise of cunning. . It’s a hard-edged world that
Abercrombie has drawn, one with a relatively low tolerance for mistakes. It’s
also one living in the shadow of the past. Scattered through the Shattered Sea
are ‘Elf’ ruins and artifacts, from towers dwarfing the efforts of humanity
below, to devices of uncertain form, function and potential. Our protagonist
and his society live in the shade of the broken grandeur around them, and
Abercrombie masterfully ties up the melancholy this evokes with the rage and
humour of the warrior life, and the quietly deadly byplay of the Ministers.
Yarvi is our window into this world; beginning as a Minsiter’s
apprentice, he’s very quickly thrown into the metaphorical pool of sharks as a
replacement for his father; from counsellor to monarch in a few rather fraught
minutes. He’s perceptive, intelligent, and utterly unprepared to become a king.
This is a well-drawn portrayal of an adolescent settling themselves into adulthood,
defining themselves with and against their trials. Unfortunately for Yarvi, he
has rather a lot of trials sneaking up on him. Watching him hammered from a
more malleable youngster into something with a strain of steel running through
it is both entertaining and affecting. Yarvi moves quickly to learning not to
trust anyone around him, and struggles with defining himself against the
expectations of others. But he also learns to trust those that have earned it,
and to put his own definition of himself against the wills of others.
He’s assisted in this by a strong supporting cast. If our
primary view is Yarvi, his interactions with those around him still act as a
barometer for how that view goes over in the world. And those he works with,
and against, feel as human as Yarvi does. There’s a theme running through the
text exploring the values of loyalty and friendship, and Yarvi’s friends are
very well realised indeed – human, flawed, but prepared to stand up and
sacrifice alongside one another.The villains, by contrast – well, they’re not
moustache-twirling lunatics, that’s for sure, but considered intelligent foes,
doing (as ever) what they believe to be the right thing. There’s not any evil
here per se, but there is a discussion being had about right, wrong, and how
those things are decided.
The plot crackles along nicely. There’s a few lulls in the
mid-section, but it still managed to
keep me turning pages to find out what happened next. Watching Yarvi’s journey,
devouring his world and studying his character, waiting to see what sort of
person he would become – well, it weas thoroughly enjoyable. Abercrombie adds a
soupcon of murder and dules to this excellent recipe, and produces a strong
start to a series which I’m looking forward to continuing to read.
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