I’m not sure where to start with The Unspoken Name, a
fantastic fantasy novel from A.K. Larkwood. It has so many facets, it’s
difficult to decide which one to speak about first.
So, lets start here: This is a bloody good book. It has
artfully crafted, believable characters. It has relationships which feel real.
Fraught, sweet, complicated, unpleasant, all of the above – but real. It has a
vividly imagined world which blends the strange and the familiar in order to
make something new, something that evokes the thrill of discovery as much as it
does a justified fear of the unknown. It has a story laced through with hooks,
which will bite in as you turn a page, and then capture your attention so that
you’re unwilling to put the book down.
That isn’t entirely hyperbole. At one stage, while making
dinner, I was sufficiently distracted reading this that the smoke alarms went
off. This is a story which will grab on and not let go, a story which has
teeth, but also has a lot of heart.
It is, as I already said, a bloody good book.
Part of the reason it’s such a good book is the characters,
their interactions, their relationships. The central character is Csorwe.
Csorwe has both a difficult to pronounce name, and other sterling qualities.
For one thing, she is a sacrifice. Or was. As the story begins, she makes a
choice, decides to live her life rather than the one mapped out for her in
advance. A short lifetime in service to a very real, very hungry god is put
aside rather rapidly, as she takes up with an enigmatic sorcerer who, of
course, has an agenda all his own. Their relationship is an odd one; Csorwe
seems to see him as a saviour, perhaps as a surrogate parent, and as an
authority figure. She is a tool, a willing one in his hand. As Csorwe grows, she
learns what might be called a particular set of skills – survival,
assassination, swordplay. But even while she sees her rescuer through the eyes
of the saved, we can see distance and, if not cruelty, then detachment. This
plays out against the backdrop of Csorwe’s desire to live up to her patron’s
expectations, and it’s a wonderful portrayal of a woman trying to understand
herself.
That isn’t all, though. Csorwe has other influences. I’m
particularly fond of Csoranna, the librarian of the cult whom Csorwe escaped. Csoranna
is driven, powerful, and moral by her own lights, which given she serves a god
of entropy, may not be entirely in accord with the rest of us. But she’s a
woman like Cosrwe, who is unwilling to accept the path laid out for her, and
whose refusal to do so has shaped her into something new. That her incisive,
occasionally lethal presence always seizes the audience when she appears is a
bonus.
There’s no shortage of characters for whom that’s the case
though. Shuthmili is another. A young
woman whose magical power is titanic, sheltered by her people in an effort to
keep her safe. The parallels with Csorwe’s life are clear, though neither
appears to articulate them. Shuthmili has a curious vulnerability, which lurks behind a cool academic façade. Still,
her time with Csorwe aches with unrealised passions, simmering beneath the
surface for them both. It’s excruciatingly cute, and highly entertaining.
There’s a whiff of regency romance in the air, if Austen had had relationships
where one party could fight off a horde of enemies, and the other could set
fire to a city. There’s a sweetness to it, a headiness of youthful romance,
tempered with the expectation of death – or at least, the end of life. They’re living, or trying to live, within the
bounds that society expects, whilst also trying to break free, to be greater
than the expectations put upon them.
That’s all an absolute joy. The interaction between them, as
well as their supporting cast of enemies, frenemies, generals, gods and
monsters, is a wonder. It really does feel genuinely emotive and emotional.
These are real people, struggling to shape their own lives, whilst also, say,
evading the winding coils of a serpent deity.
Speaking of which, a moment to talk about the world. This is
a universe of broken gods, which simmer and brood under mountains, or channel
their power through sorcerors in glass towers. We see settings as diverse as
bustling market towns, the citadels of kings, magical spires, and worlds whose
life has been sapped from them, worlds gradually falling into entropy, buried
under a mystical…er..mist, which enshrouds dying worlds until they vanish
entirely. Travelling between locales is done through shimmering portals,
bridges between cultures and contexts. Flying ships skip through the air,
moving between worlds at a stroke – powered by the life force of the magicians
who navigate them. This is a universe already old, with a history that has
seeped through every pore. It’s a beautiful, horrifying, intriguing place, and
one I’d like to see more of.
That applies to the people that populate it too; I look
forward to more adventures with this crew, even if (especially if) I’m never
entirely sure who is on the right side at any given moment. I want to see more
of Csorwe, her friends, and her enemies. They’re always fascinating to read,
and the story, the story is one of romance, of love across a divide. Of magic
that can shatter everything, or build something. Of friendships that sour, and
enmities which may not be as absolute as they seem. It’s a story of people
defying the known path, a story of those people having the courage to reach
out, shape things around them, and make their own lives.
In short, it’s a bloody good story.
Read it!
No comments:
Post a Comment