Carved from Stone and Dream is the fifth entry and the second
full length novel in T. Frohock’s Los Nefilim universe. I’ve been a fan
of Frohock’s work for ages, and have found the Los Nefilim series to be an
absolute gem, filled with relatable characters with complex, believable
relationships, within a vividly realised slice of history. So I was quite
excited to get my hands on this one, albeit a little worried it wouldn’t live
up to my expectations.
Fortunately, it met and exceeded them instead.
The story is set in the aftermath of the Spanish Civil War,
as broken Republican forces and lines of non-combatant fall back toward France.
And in France, we find our Nephilim. They’re the offspring of angels (or
demons), individuals able to harness the power of the infernal and the divine
to shape the mortal world. They feud and politick as much as anyone else, or
perhaps more. It’s possible to see the Nephilim as a stand against a darkness
most of us don’t know exists – though equally, one can argue that some of them
are as much a part of that darkness as any angel, fallen or otherwise. In any
event, the Nephilim and their struggles are deeply embedded in this world,
influencing and influenced by its events.
Frohock has always been fantastic at worldbuilding, and that
hasn’t changed here. The refugee camps for those on the road to Paris are
believably appalling. Starving refugees crammed cheek-by-jowl. Turning on each
other, turning on themselves, walking out into the sea on the border coast,
leaving their worldly goods behind. This is the harrowing aftermath of
appalling conflict, brought to life and brought home to the reader. The camps
are real. The simmering tensions in the aftermath fo the conflict are real. The
atrocities are real. You can turn the page with these people, feel the surf
against your legs, look across the sand at weary, broken people trying to find
a new home, a new life away from madness and the horror of war. This is a text
which is unafraid to evocatively portray the spectre of war, and its
consequences. It does so with haunting effectiveness.
Time is also spent in France, in a Paris not yet at war. The
atmosphere is febrile, the air taut with truth unspoken. There is a certain joi
de vivre though, standing in stark contrast to the horrors of the refugees.
Still, even Paris is not a safe place; gangs are paid off, crimes committed,
oaths taken. Sections of pre-war Paris are here drawn with an exacting
precision, and the lush, evocative prose helps to bring Paris darkly to life.
This is the post-war world, and if our characters are important to us, and to
their own story, there are factions and factors seething away in the background
which may yet change everything.
The other core component of the story is the characters. I
want to give particular space to Diago and Rafael, whose relationship has
formed the backbone of the series. It’s at the core of the story here, as well.
Separated in the swift tides of conflict, their search for each other is
fraught, and the emotions that are drawn forth are genuine, valid, and
powerful. The way that both men lean on each other, trust each other, know they
can depend on each other is a tonic. That they also have their own vices, their
own struggles, that just makes them more real. This is their life, their
romance, their relationship. The fear and dread of possible loss is there, but
also the casual affection, the longing, the comfortable silences. These are men
who complete each other, and the depicition of their love on the page continues
to be beautifully, truthfully realised.
There are other types of relationship here of course. This
is a story which wants to talk about family as much as it wants to talk about
friendship, romance, or enmity. Watching Rafael and Diago trying to raise a son
has always been as delightful as it is painful. Mistakes are made on all sides,
but the struggle, the fact that everyone involved is trying, continues to be a
delight, and gives their struggle both weight and emotional impact. Incidentally,
it’s an absolute joy to follow their son through these pages, each instalment of
the story bringing him a little closer to his family, and pushing him a little
further away at the same time. In any event, this is a story which is thinking
hard about families, about what ties them together and about what breaks those
ties. It feels honest, raw, real. You can stand beside these men as they dig
into the depths of their being, struggling to articulate their own truths – and
that is both uplifting and humbling. It’s wonderfully done.
Oh, and there’s a story too. Did I not mention that? Well, I won’t get into
the details, because, of course, spoilers. But there’s a lot that goes on here,
in a vibrant world, filled with characters who seem almost too real for the
page. There’s betrayal, for sure There’s setbacks, and hurt. There’s blood and
tears. But also close friendship, heroism, triumphs against all the odds. There’s
secret plots, acts of terrible villainy, shocking revelations, and
heart-wrenching heroism. There’s fast-paced action, beautifully crafted magic,
and consequences which will grab hold of you and keep the pages turning long
into the night.
Should you read this? Yes, yes, I think you should.
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