Tempests And Slaughter is the start of a new series from
Tamora Pierce. If you’ve not read any of her other work before (and I hadn’t!),
it works as a standalone series. I’m told, though, that it also ties into the
prequel history of some of her other, existing series – so if you’re an
existing fan, it sounds like there’s a rich vein of history and lore for you to
delve into here.
On its own merits, though, this remains a book worth picking
up and giving a read.
The centre of the book is Arram Draper, a child growing into
adulthood. Arram is a thoughtful boy with an absence of social graces. Left in
the care of a magical school by his family, Arram begins the story alone and
friendless. This isn’t really too problematic a state of affairs, as Arram
doesn’t come off as a natural, charismatic leader. Though he has a well defined
moral sense, he seems often happy enough in his own world, trying to discover
how things work. That retiring nature, however, is backed up by extremely high
magical potential, which makes keeping out of the spotlight more difficult than
it might otherwise be.
The portrayal of Arram is a sympathetic and detailed one,
which lets us behind the eyes of a young person growing toward adulthood within
an isolated, institutional framework. The text doesn’t flinch away from the
consequences of his social awkwardness mixed with potential; in fact it wants
to look at the resentment that this can generate, and the way Arram faces up to
that. But at heart, it’s letting the reader into the head and heart of a boy
who hasn’t yet worked out who he is, trying to shape himself against the
vicissitudes of a system which takes a particularly strong interest in shaping
him, possibly not for his own benefit.
I’ve got a lot of
time for Arram; that story of social confusion and awkward intelligence gives him
a heartfelt humanity. This is a protagonist who may not (yet) be shaking cities
or throwing lightning, but between being a magical prodigy, he’s afraid,
looking for approval, looking to define himself as much as anyone at that age.
A reasonable amount of the book is walking alongside Arram as he tries to
figure out who he is and what he wants – through classes in history, through
magical experimentation, through talking to tutors and making friends. In some
ways, this is a comfortable tale about self-realisation, with bonus
thunderbolts.
Arram isn’t entirely on his own of course – he makes a
couple of friends, the effusive Varice, a young woman whose charm is already
dazzling, and the more taciturn, conflicted Ozorne, a prince so far down the
line of succession that it seems like everyone’s forgotten he was there. Varice
carries an effervescent energy and weight of emotional maturity which make a
nice contrast to Arram’s bafflement – she’s just as likely as the other two to
get into trouble, but more likely to have a backup plan or an eye on the
consequences. Ozorne is by turns a social butterfly and morose, seeking
solitude; there’s a sense there of a sword waiting to be drawn, a penchant for
temper and some deep rooted anxieties and prejudices which, along with his own
sense that he lacks worth, may make up an interesting emotional cocktail in
later books. For now, though, this tripod of friends feels fiercely loyal, each
accepting the honesty and capacity for emotional truth given up by the other
two. If they are on occasion beset by bullies, or have to deal with teachers
with a less than stellar health-and-safety record, still they bear each other
up; even as the stakes grow higher, they do, still, bear each other up. It’s a
complex relationship, a deep friendship with emotional undercurrents running
through each member of the group – and if it’s possible to see potential cracks
in the foundation, still it’s a heartwarming thing to see so tight-knit a crew
of friends.
In their day to day conflicts with each other, their
discussions between themselves and with teachers, which shame them even as they
looking at the world around them, in their affections and rare enmities, you
can see a group of real, complicated young adults; their trials and
tribulations mean they come off the page as people, even when they’re using magic
for healing, or dealing with otherworldy entities – because they’re also crying
over breakups, and losing their socks. This precision-crafted mixture of the
fantastic and the prosaic makes for compelling reading.
They live in a fully realised, fleshed out world as well,
these complicated people. Indeed, their struggles with that world are part of
what makes them tick. The land in which Arram finds himself feels like it’s the
centre of the known world – with great armies, advances in medicine and arcane
theory, and elaborate civic buildings. But behind the façade there’s something
darker: one can see the blood and
oppression of slavery, and a sense of superiority, even racism to members of
certain geographical groups, born from an implied history of conflict and
conquest. We (and Arram) see a lot of the glittering spires of the cognoscenti,
but the underpinnings of the society are rather less pleasant. For all that,
Arram’s new school, his new home, is a sprawling metropolis within an empire
and his perspective lets us see that city at its best and worst, from the
courts to the gutters. Pierce has crafted a rich and detailed world here, one
with fearsome and imaginative depth, in which it was a pleasure to be immersed.
The plot – well, I won’t spoil it. But it’s centred on Arram
finding himself, learning to deal with his powers at the same time that he
tries to deal with people. There’s some other stuff happening here too, though –
the gentle swell of politics occurring just out of view, and a sense of stormclouds
gathering over the horizon. The title promised tempests and slaughter, and here they can be found, both metaphorically and...otherwise. But really, this is Arram’s story, a personal story
about friendship and growth, and that was more than enough to keep me turning
the pages.
This is top notch fantasy, even if it’s not full of elves,
dragons and epic battles. It’s about young people growing toward adulthood, in
a world which is so different from ours, but also much the same. If it lacks in
talking swords and buried treasure, it more than makes up for that with prose
packed with honesty and heart. As a first time reader, this absolutely did not
disappoint, and I’ll be coming back for more.
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