Interstitial - The Winds of Khalakovo

After reading Bradley P. Beaulie's excellent "Twelve Kings in Sharakai" earlier in the year, I thought I'd go back and give his original series a go. It's got a lot to recommend it - original world, uncommon inspiration, complex family dynamics  -though with a few rough edges, too.

More on that tomorrow.

Windswept - Adam Rakunas

Windswept is Adam Rakunas’s debut novel. It’s a great mix of high-concept, discussing the roles and realities of labour and struggle in a spacefaring corporate future, and taut thriller – as our protagonist races against time to figure out what’s causing the city around her to fall apart, whilst dodging bullet and trying to find time to stop for a quick drink. It’s a book which has interesting things to say, and manages to express them successfully whilst keeping the reader both entertained and intrigued.

The setting is one of the stars of the text. A sprawling industrial city, divided into districts, most in some way dedicated to refining sugarcane or distilling rum. Possibly both. The city exists to move the cane, and an orbital tether is present in the city in order to drive goods into orbit. It has the raw, vital feeling of somewhere on the cusp of development, of becoming something great, or declining into a shadow of itself. Rakunas manages to make his city feel alive – the spattered rum on tabletops, the housing units made of landed cargo containers, the crash of surf against the cans of escaping ‘Breaches’…

Breaches, incidentally, is the word used for many of those living on the planet. In a universe which appears to be largely run by corporate fiat, and where many people work at interminable indentures for much, or all, of their lives, these individuals have chosen otherwise, and managed, somehow, to make their way down from orbit, looking for a better life at the bottom of the orbital well. They may find it, or at least something like it, with the Union, fronted by our protagonist – a sprawling labour organisation, which manages the non-corporate industry of the city. Unsurprisingly, however, the Union is a complicated place, filled with old rivalries and internecine internal politics. Rakunas doesn’t elide this, but lets the history between the protagonist and the remainder of the Union simmer in the background, inferred from asides in dialogue, or the very structure of the city.

There’s a whole social structure on display here. A sense of Union members and their time ‘in grade’,  indicating whether they get the best jobs. There’s the hunched, menacing spectre of the ongoing corporate presence in the city, in the appropriately named Thronehill. Then there’s the ‘Freeborn’, growing cane outside of the city limits, out of reach of the constant presence of the network everyone else is hooked into, independent, and sceptical of both Union and corporate promises. It’s a society in miniature, and the way it’s been structured makes it make sense – and it feels like an organic structure, accreted over time, a society which has been shaped by the people within it.

In that society sits our protagonist. An ex-corporate high flyer, now serving as a Union recruiter; one whose retirement plan involves retrieving just a few more Breaches after their escapes. The wonderfully named Padma Mehta is cynical, self-interested, and always expects the worst from people. In this, at least, she’s rarely disappointed. Rakunas manages to bring to life a character who is selfish, but not entirely self involved – pragmatic enough to be effective, but with enough empathy to be understandable. She also does a pretty good line in kicking arse, and has some genuinely witty dialogue.

It’s refreshing to see this approach – one in which the protagonist, whilst acting within semi (or indeed anti-) heroic constraints, recognises their own place within a system. Here is no Chosen One, rising up to overthrow a corrupt government – but a worn down, damaged individual, looking out for herself, and trying to do the best for those that depend upon her. And it works, it really does – the reader is drawn into the struggle with Padma, as her initial situation rapidly gets out of hand. 

Ruthless, willing to be physical, with a penchant for smart remarks and good rum, she’s an absolute pleasure to read. The supporting cast suffer somewhat by comparison. There’s some quirky characters in here – the entirely filthy Bloombeck, Padma’s old neighbour, for example, has the aura of sleaze and incompetence expertly evoked – but they’re really in the shade of the protagonist.  Still, they work well within their roles, giving Padma people to play off of, argue with, and occasionally punch in the face, so overall that’s fine.

Plot-wise…well, as ever, I don’t want to get into spoilers. I will say that Padma’s initial effort to recruit enough ‘Breaches’ into the Union is quickly subsumed into several  different schemes, all with far larger stakes. The plot ratchets up the tension early, and releases it every so often in fist fights, boat chases, shoot-outs…there’s a fair amount of action here. But it’s wrapped around a narrative core which is startlingly perceptive. One with mysteries at the centre, which are gradually answered through the course of the text. One which takes the characters it provides the reader, and slowly tells us more about them – and there are more than a few surprises.

This melange of fast-paced action, character study, social study and witty dialogue makes up a thoroughly enjoyable narrative treat – give it a chance, and it’ll reward your attention.

Interstitial - Windswept

Tomorrow will be a look at Windswept, the debut novel of Adam Rakunas. Unusually, it's a sci-fi novel focusing on a union organiser. Not someone out to save the world (though that might happen), just someone doing the best they can. There's gunfire, booze, chases, a lot of witty dialogue, and some really interesting ideas about social structures in the future - been enjoying it so far.

More tomorrow!

Sorcerer to the Crown - Zen Cho

Sorcerer to the Crown is Zen Cho’s debut novel. It’s perhaps best described as magic-and-manners,  sitting somewhere on the literary spectrum of Jane Austen and Susanna Clarke. It’s also rather good.

The setting is Regency England – easily recognisable to anyone who had to read Pride and Prejudice at school. Filled with supercilious aristocrats, put-upon servants, elaborate entertainments, and even more elaborate language. But it’s a version of this England that we perhaps haven’t seen before. A version where there is a highly visible, if somewhat dysfunctional, society of magicians. Where the position of Sorcerer Royal comes with both privileges and assassination attempts.  It’s a credit to Cho’s skill as an author that she manages to merge the cut-throat world of aristocratic parties and struggles to find a suitable husband, with the more literally cut-throat world of high-octane magic.

It’s a very well realised world that Cho has drawn, and one which is instantly believable. Drawing on the tradition of mannered romances, even the tone of the prose feels appropriate to the genre conventions, lending authenticity to those parts of the narrative that seek to both subvert and conform to those conventions. The text feels slightly baroque, but not overwhelming, and the flow of both dialogue and description is suitably liquid – flowing easily through the reader, and asking them to just turn one more page. The descriptions, of London, of courtly ballrooms, of thaumaturgy – all have a matter-of-fact authenticity to them, wrapped within some nicely elaborate prose. 

The flow of the dialogue, in particular, is a joy – carrying the impression of a 19^th century novel, but with a streamlined feel, making it a pleasant and intriguing read. It’s worth noting whilst discussing the prose,  that this is one of the most slyly witty books I’ve picked up in years. There’s an undercurrent of dry humour which runs through the text, and it often has the capacity to surprise and amuse simultaneously. I chuckled often, and laughed aloud several times. Whilst this is a text which does treat with complex themes and issues, it’s also one which does not do so in too po-faced a fashion; the narrative invites the reader to share the joke, rather than taking itself too seriously.

Our view into this world is split between two central characters. There’s the current Sorcerer Royal, the wonderfully named Zacharias Wythe, a man discriminated against by his own society both for his race and for his mysterious means of ascension to his position. There’s also (the equally splendidly named) Prunella Gentleman, who begins the tale in the confines of a school for magically inclined women. It exists in order to teach gentlewomen how not to exercise their magic – for reasons of propriety, of course. Both characters are artfully portrayed. Wythe has a certain nervous energy about him, and an occasional grim intensity which indicates a character with drive, focus, and determination. As the narrative progresses, we learn more about Stephen’s past, and how he ended up in the position he’s in. By contrast, Prunella is no less driven – in fact, perhaps more so. She’s vivacious, focused, perhaps slightly unscrupulous, occasionally ruthless, and utterly charming. 

The central relationship is between these two, as they rebound off of each other whilst dealing with the travails affecting English magic – and the author has managed to create a marvellous understated chemistry, both entirely believable and incredibly compulsive. There’s also a galaxy of supporting cast, ranging from wry colleagues of Wythe’s through put-upon schoolteachers to mysterious villains and the occasional Faerie. Some of the latter feel extremely strange, but perfectly real – and the supporting cast of thaumaturges and government officials feel no less than human.

The plot begins with Wythe’s investigations into a sudden decline in the amount of available magic in England, and Prunella’s efforts to make a name for herself  – but quickly spirals out to include a great many other opportunities for chaos. I won’t say more for fear of spoilers, except that each step on the journey with the pair of them is thoroughly enjoyable, and the eventual dénouement is both thoroughly fantastical and impressively human.

Overall, this was a really enjoyable read. Warm, clever prose, filled with believable, charming characters in a compelling narrative. This one is definitely worth picking up.

Interstitial - Sorcerer to the Crown

Tomorrow we'll be looking at Zen Cho's charming debut, Sorcerer to the Crown. It's a tale of manners-and magic, mixing magicians with the world of a Regency novel in the mode of Austen. It's also an extremely enjoyable read.

The Dragon Engine - Andy Remic

The Dragon Engine is a fantasy novel by Andy Remic. It’s got some interesting world-building, a party of squabbling misfits, high stakes action, and… quite a lot of blood.

 The novel takes place as a party of heroes come out of retirement, heading into a mountain range in search of riches.  Remic does a decent job of building out his initial world. The kingdom that these heroes inhabit is only sketched out, but depth is added in incidental dialogue between characters. 

There’s mention of villains from the past, wars which are slowly being forgotten,  loyalties and betrayals bubbling under the surface of the world.  Whilst the attention paid to this initial setting is a bit sparse, what is in place manages to feel vivid and alive.

The setting shines, however, when it explores the Dwarven caverns that our party of heroes are planning to loot. There’s a cavernous claustrophobia to the underside of the mountains, a feeling of a society turned in on itself, self-contained and self satisfied. At the same time, there’s a wonderful sense of scale – the towering gates of the Dwarves, the intricacy and baroque nature of their works, is emphasised in a narrative style which otherwise feels very spare and clean. There’s a grandeur in the Dwarven city, but also a sense of statis, and Remic manages to tease these out and combine them without overwhelming or browbeating the reader.

The characters are an interesting conundrum. They seem almost designed to fill roles – the axeman, the archer, the assassin, and so on. An adventuring party, off on a dungeon crawl. But the nature of these old heroes, the bonds that tie them together, are inferred and unspoken, and so we get hints of a more complex set of relationships through the cracks in the narrative. There’s moments of sparkling humanity in between the banter and the action. The axeman’s relationship with his ex-fiancée is  particularly well done, given a sense of emotional freight and a level of nuance that it would have been nice to see explored further, across all the character relationships. There are other quiet moments between the characters of course, and it seemed like they had a lot of room to grow, if given the chance – hopefully that’s something we might see in later books in the series.

The villains are a mixed bag. There’s a couple who feel a tad flat, more evil-for-the-sake-of-it than anything else. But there’s also a couple with more complex histories, especially once the Dwarven plot gets rolling. Whilst there’s still a lot of evil minions, there overlords have a bit more heft behind them. Much like the heroes, I’m hoping that this level of depth is something we might see strengthened and further explored in any later novels.

That said, the lion’s share of the book, when it’s not sliding character complexity in behind the reader’s back, is the plot. The quest into the mountains, to retrieve a mountain of dwarven gold, is wonderfully self interested. It also, of course, doesn’t go even slightly to plan. Remic manages to pace the opening of the story perfectly, dropping the reader enough context not to feel lost, then ramping up into moments of action which are genuinely gripping. As the text progresses, and the reader picks up more of the world, the action sequences become grander, and the stakes higher. 

There’s some great stuff here – Remic’s fight scenes are elaborate, visceral, and gripping. Sometimes it feels like they go a bit overboard – but at the same time, this is a story which knows what it’s providing, and is hitting that mark. There’s sword fights. Bowshot. At one point someone steps on a spine. There’s blood everywhere, and most of the people who get an axe deserve it. The stakes for the characters gradually increase, and Remic certainly had me invested by the end.

The novel as a whole is rapid, unrelenting, gleefully bloody, and happy to occasionally subvert expectations. I’d like to see the characters explored a little more, but was typically distracted by this when someone’s head fell off, or a chase began, or someone did a bit of cool magic, or…well, you get the idea. This is unreformed fantasy, filled with treasure, violence, the odd bit of magic – heroes you can understand, and villains you can hate. It succeeds very well at doing what it wants to do – and I’m hoping it’s going to expand on that as the series continues.

Event - BFSA & BFS Social, York, 19th September

If you happen to be in York  (UK!) on the 19th of September, the BFSA and BFS are once again getting together to throw one of their renowned meet ups.

This time the venue is the rather historic and thoroughly classy Ackhorne pub, in the centre of the city.

There's going to be some talks by authors (the excellent pair of Marie O'Regan and Alex Davis this time!). There's going to be a book raffle. There's...probably going to be some drinks, if I'm honest.

Starts around 17:00, and the formal parts finish about 8. The chat afterward tends to go on into the night, though.

Anyway, come along, if you're able; it should be a lot of fun.