The Farseer Trilogy, by Robin Hobb

Robin Hobb is a much admired and respected fantasy author. I actually read the Farseer trilogy (Assassin’s Apprentice, Royal Assassin, and Assassin’s Quest) as a teenager, but recently picked them up again. The trilogy follows many of the tropes of fantasy fiction: a faux-medieval world, royal intrigue, magic. Hobb’s world building is excellent and imaginative, so the books do bring something different to the fantasy market.

Fitzchivalry (Fitz), the illegitimate son of a prince, pledges his life to his grandfather King Shrewd. Aged only eleven, he is then apprenticed to Chade, the King’s mysterious assassin. The Six Duchies are under threat from the Outislanders, who no longer simply plunder, but strip humanity from their captives – leaving them only capable of fulfilling animal desires - then release them to wreak havoc on their neighbours. Prince Verity, Fitz’s uncle, is determined to save his Kingdom. Out of love for Verity as much as anything else, Fitz sacrifices much to help. He faces another more insidious threat in the form of his half-uncle Prince Regal, a jealous, manipulative young man who is determined to inherit the throne himself. Meanwhile the Fool takes an interest in Fitz, riddling about prophecies.

The story is narrated by Fitz as an older man. He is not the most admirable of characters; he is often sullen and selfish, but Hobb always keeps him on the right side of likable. It is only fitting behaviour, perhaps, for the teenage boy he is; the journey from boy to man is portrayed warts and all. This is one of the reasons why I think they make an excellent bridging novel for readers moving from the young adult market to the adult one.

It is the tone of these books that I found interesting; they are dark, with misfortune after misfortune befalling Fitz. They contain a reasonable amount of violence, not sweeping battle scenes or glorious vanquishing of enemies, but always as a dark and ugly truth of the world in the form of vicious beatings and secret assassinations. Fitz is just as often perpetrator as victim, and the grim necessity of it all ages him before his time. It is one of the many interesting notions Hobb explores around the pledge Fitz made as a child; his loyalty to his King and family is never in doubt, but Fitz often questions how far he can go. It may be one thing to die for your King, but to sacrifice every living moment of your life is another.

The trilogy is also a master class in plotting, Hobb has written three complete books, each with a satisfying beginning, middle, and end, which together make up a trilogy with a satisfying beginning, middle, and end. Hobb avoids the bombast of many never-ending series (George RR Martin, I’m looking at you). I did think the third book had a few wobbles; the second quarter has Fitz narrowly escape his enemies perhaps a few times too many, but then it picks up speed to weave together the various threads of the story.

Like so many fantasy series our hero is male, but I really enjoyed the female characters in these books. They span a diverse range of womanhood, from the working class to the highest echelons of society. All are strong while feminine, and face adversity without becoming ‘victims’. The books don’t seem to have a feminist agenda like the books of Ursula Le Guin do, rather Hobb seems to find it as natural to write strong, well-rounded female characters as well as male. It is refreshing as so often, not just in fantasy, this is not the case.

A thoroughly enjoyable fantasy series in my opinion. Fans of the Saga of Ice and Fire may want to check these out while waiting for the next instalment. It is the first of four series set in this fantasy world, and she also writes under another pen name as Megan Lindholm. I’ll probably read some more of her books, so watch this space.

Mastiff, by Tamora Pierce

I first read Tamora Pierce’s books when I was 11. As an avid reader I had somewhat outgrown the children’s section of the public library, so on one of our frequent visits my mother asked someone to recommend young adult books for me. One book they pulled off the shelf was Alanna: The First Adventure, the first book in the Song of the Lioness Quartet. So began a love affair that continues today. Sitting on my bookshelf are two cancelled library books from that series that I bought at the whopping price of twenty cents each. I have read those books over and over again, and when anything new is published, well, I have to read that too.

The first series, The Song of The Lioness, tells the story of Alanna, a girl who disguises herself as a boy so she can train as a knight. Set in the fantasy kingdom of Tortall, it involves magic, meddling gods, and swords - all the classic fantasy stuff. Many of Pierce’s other series are spin-offs, involving connected characters; Alanna herself often appears as an adult in a minor role. Mastiff is the third of The Beka Cooper trilogy. It is also set in Tortall, but we have travelled back in time to tell the story of an ancestress of another major character from the first series, George Cooper.

Tamora Pierce set out to write strong female characters in her series, something she felt was lacking in many of the books she read as a child. This is probably one of the things I loved about the books growing up. So often fantasy aimed at young adults, even specifically girls, have weak female roles. The classics of the genre, Tolkein and C. S. Lewis, are often specifically criticised for this; however recent books can be almost as bad, such as megahit Twilight with pathetic Bella; even Hermione in the Harry Potter books is the ‘clever one’ and sometimes a bit of a wimp. One, otherwise good, young adult book someone I know has recently read featured a woman whose superpower is to read peoples’ minds - by having sex with them. Filling this void of characterisation are Tamora Pierce’s heroines; they are strong willed and tough, and yet remain feminine, even in the middle of a soldiers’ campaign.

As Pierce’s books often take place over many years, they can follow their main characters through adolescence into adulthood, exploring all the terrain that comes with that change. Relationships with the men in their lives are complicated, occasionally messy, but always portrayed as an equal partnership. Pierce is also admirably frank about sex as a natural part of healthy adult relationships. Sometimes the books probably even get ahead of their intended readers, as in the fourth Lioness book, when Alanna realises the difficulties of mixing having a family with the man she loves and her chosen career as a Knight of the Realm.

The books also tackle more universal themes. Loyalty and betrayal are a major theme in Mastiff. How the rich or powerful treat those weaker and poorer than them is a recurring theme in many of her books. And while her books focus on female characters, they don’t do this to the detriment of male characters. Platonic friendships between male and female characters are portrayed well. Some of my favourite characters are the men; and I’m pretty sure my first real literary crush is courtesy of these books too…

I’ve been reading Tamora Pierce’s books for well over half my life now, and I have of course outgrown them to a degree, but my respect for what she has achieved as a writer has only grown. I don’t love her recent books, such as Mastiff, in the same way I love the books I read as a child. But that is more a product of my development rather than a reduction in quality. So to those of you out there who might be wanting to give a book to a young adult reader anytime soon, I couldn’t recommend these highly enough.

A Storm of Swords, by George R. R. Martin

The third instalment of George R. R. Martin’s Song of Ice and Fire, A Storm of Swords, is the largest - so far - of the series. Originally it was published in two volumes, although it is now possible to buy it as one book as I did. Considering its size, about a thousand pages, it is not a challenging read. Martin certainly knows how to write blockbuster books that keep you gripped.

By A Storm of Swords Martin has a well established world and cast of characters. Or, at least, the characters would be well established if he didn’t kill so many off! The cast of narrators is expanded again, to include Jaime Lannister and Samwell Tarly; both are welcome additions, with Jaime in particular becoming a bit of a favourite. This happens at the expense of Theon Greyjoy, who I didn’t greatly miss. The characters are spread across a vast geographic area. Therefore there are multiple stories all happening at the same time, some of which barely intersect with the others in the book. If you like concise fiction, perhaps this isn’t the one for you. Martin began his career as a television writer and his desire to write novels grew out of frustration at the constant restrictions he found himself under. In his own words:

‘I’m going to write a story that’s just as big as I want to make it, and I’m going to have castles and battles and dragons and as many characters as I like. There will be no budget, there will be no running time. If I can describe it I can have it.’

There is a certain degree of excess in all these novels, Martin wallows in detail, huge feasts and battles, bloody fights and copious amounts of sex, although thankfully the sexual violence is toned down from A Clash of Kings (this may be partly due to the lack of Theon Greyjoy). I’m often amused at his fascination with the banners carried by the men to identify themselves; people are constantly introduced with a description of the sigil on their tunic, or shield, or whatever, even though we will never meet them again. These details, along with the clear mythology and history, are part of what makes Martin’s world building so successful, although it is his character work that really makes these novels. No one is allowed to be a clear cut good/bad guy; each have flaws, do terrible things in the name of war, and yet we see a human at the heart of each. Jaime and Tyrion Lannister are perhaps the best examples of this, nominally the bad guys and yet so likeable when events are told from their point of view.

It is impossible to discuss Martin’s novels without discussing his propensity to kill off major characters, which is difficult to do without giving massive spoilers. Suffice to say, in two major set pieces in this novel major characters die, unexpectedly, with ramifications that echo throughout the rest of the novel. It is this that helps to keep the novel feeling fresh and exciting. You’re never really sure who is safe or who, as much as you love the character, will turn out to be dispensable. This is tempered though by Martin’s fake killings: a number of characters disappear for huge tracts of the books, only to turn up with a ‘ha ha I’m not really dead’. At times this can be annoying, but there is a really good one of these moments in this one, so I’ve decided to forgive him for this tendency.

If you’re willing to get sucked into a sprawling fantasy epic then I would recommend these. I hope the series finishes well, but so far I think the books have got better as they go on. A sword swinging saga, with dragons, a little bit of heart, and just the right amount of bombast; what more could one ask of a holiday read?

The Sookie Stackhouse Series, by Charlaine Harris

You know how it’s all very well to go out to fine dining restaurants, but often what you would rather do is collapse on the couch with macaroni cheese? Or that documentaries are all very interesting, but most nights the closest you want to get is watching Mythbusters? As stacked with classical novels as my bookshelves may be, sometimes I like to sit in the sun, pour a coffee and devour a book in one (or possibly two) sittings. Lately a popular choice for these moods has been the Sookie Stackhouse series, known widely to most people through its television incarnation for HBO as True Blood.

Vampire fiction is one of the big sellers in modern mass market literature, but that is nothing new. Some of the biggest names in classical literature have published vampire tales: Goethe, Byron, and of course Bram Stoker. Vampires have had a healthy screen presence as well: Nosferatu, Christopher Lee in Dracula, and what would I have watched on TV as a teenager if not Buffy? It isn’t hard to see the appeal. Vampires are frightening and dangerous, but possess an element of glamour that is missing from other undead beings: it is hard to imagine a sexy zombie. Many books pick and choose their vampire mythology, do they possess an ability to transform into bats, can they stand the smell of garlic, or the sight of a crucifix, for example. This lends vampires a versatility, meaning they crop up in everything from comedy to pure horror.

Lately the media has been saturated with the Stephanie Meyer Twilight series. I’ll admit here, in print, just this once, I’ve read those. I think they were pretty bad, and the fourth book, Breaking Dawn - that was just plain weird. Charlaine Harris’s series began slightly earlier but didn’t become a big hit, as far as I am aware, until later. In many ways they are each others antithesis. Where Twilight shies away from the dark elements of a vampire’s nature, and appears to believe the only thing worse than being a serial killing vampire is sex before marriage, Harris’s is a much more adult read, soaked with blood, sex and murder. The premise of the series is that vampires have ‘come out’ to the public, after the manufacturing of synthetic blood; they present public faces as night dwellers who no longer rely on humans to survive. However the vampires in this series have a believable duality: as likeable as many of them are, they are also sexually predatory mass killers, who are essentially dead during daylight hours.

The books are set in the bible belt state of Louisiana, so Harris is able to explore some interesting ideas in the conflict of supernatural beings and religious fundamentalism. The titular character Sookie is not just human, but a telepath, something that allows her to empathise with the suspicion vampires and other supernatural beings, such as the shape shifters, are treated with. However Sookie has been raised with Christian values, and it is her conflict with her desire to lead a ‘good’ life and her involvement in the dark dealings of the vampire world, that give these novels an element of pathos. Some of the actions of the vampires, but also of the religious right, are truly horrific. Now in the eleventh book Sookie’s life has evolved into something she isn’t sure she likes, as she has become increasingly inured to violence.

While her books aren’t literary greats, or even terribly deep, Harris writes likeable characters with a lot of wit, which is often quite dark: in the most recent novel, Dead Reckoning, after a particularly bloody fight, a dazed Sookie sums up one minor vampire character with ‘noisy eater’. Some of the earlier books have a few editorial errors, and as the series continues some elements are beginning to feel a bit repetitive. However, overall, I find them to be a successful and entertaining addition to the vampire tradition.

Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell, by Susanna Clarke

First published in 2004, it is a testament to this novel's popularity that I had to wait months for it to become available at the library, only to discover that due to demand it can only be taken out for two weeks at a time and it was approximately a thousand pages long. Luckily I am a fast reader and even though it is large, it is not a dense read. From start to finish it was an absolute pleasure. It isn't often I read a book of that size and feel I could instantly dive in and start it again.

Clarke sets her novel in an alternative England, blending the historically accurate with the fantastic. Magic was for centuries widely practised in England and reached its peak under the three hundred year reign of John Uskglass, the Northern King. By the early 19^th century magic has died out and is solely the study of theoretical magicians. The novel centres around Mr Norrell, who astounds England by revealing he has the ability to practice magic, and Jonathan Strange, a younger man with magical abilities who becomes his pupil. Norrell and Strange have a complicated relationship that Clarke depicts very realistically; as the only two magicians in England they want to work together, but vanity and ego inevitably get in the way.

The depiction of England is very recognisable, with many historical episodes and people, such as a mad king on the throne, and the Duke of Wellington at the Battle of Waterloo. The prose is at times reminiscent of Jane Austen, with a wry tone creeping in. Clarke also uses old fashioned spelling of words familiar to readers of Austen, such as ‘chuse’ for ‘choose’. Dickens is also called to mind, largely through the pencil illustrations throughout the book. Footnotes are widely used throughout the novel, some as scholarly references explaining magical terms and theory. Others create the mythology of this version of England, with centuries old stories of Uskglass and his fairy cohorts. Often amusing, these footnotes are an effective tool for our understanding of this world.

For all the lightness of tone in this novel, magic is often depicted very darkly. The tales of Uskglass, like many of our own fairytales, often involve acts of cruelty. Magic leads Norrell and Strange down dangerous paths. The few times we get a glimpse into the fairy kingdom we see a cruel and menacing world. Early in the novel Norrell makes an unwise pact with a fairy, the Gentleman with Thistle-down Hair, to bring the young Lady Pole back to life. By his terms Lady Pole will live but spend half her life in the fairy kingdom. While Norrell believes she will appear to die after thirty years or so, in reality she is forced by the fairy to spend every night at balls in his castle, in the kingdom of Lost-Hope. Through her the fairy meets Stephen Black, her husband’s servant, and he too is enchanted. The fairy is attracted to beautiful people and things; the guests at his balls wear beautiful clothes, and he gifts Stephen priceless ornaments and treasure. For all this, his house is a cold, unwelcoming place. Unable to speak out and weary, Pole and Black can do nothing. The Gentleman with Thistle-down Hair is unable to understand they do not want to be there, that they do not want his gifts, that they find meaning in their human lives. He exists outside any human constructs of morality, and by extension so does the rest of the magical world. Norrell and Strange have opened England up to perilous forces.

The above subplot is the most major of many in this book; if any criticism can be made of this novel it is that Clarke does spend some time on events and characters that are not strictly necessary for the main thrust of the story. But it is such an enjoyable world to spend time in, and many of these diversions so entertaining in their own right, that it is a fairly minor quibble. The end brings many different storylines and details together neatly and smoothly; also I found it to be unexpectedly moving. I was left with a satisfying lump in my throat at a beautiful ending to a beautiful book.

Game of Thrones and A Clash of Kings by George R. R. Martin

So much hype. So much publicity. So many, many pages. What better book to take on holiday than Game of Thrones, the first instalment of George R. R. Martin's Song of Ice and Fire. But did it live up to expectations? Well, I have already read the second book, and bought the third. So, yes.

This is a work of High Fantasy, set in a medieval, feudal world in which seasons last for years and the Stark family hold the northernmost lands in the kingdom. The novel begins in the ninth year of summer with King Robert’s visit to Eddard Stark, a childhood friend, who was instrumental in fighting the war that ended with Robert on the Iron Throne. Robert, tired with everything that comes with being the King except for getting what he wants, needs Eddard to be his ‘Hand’. As the King eloquently puts it - what the King eats, the Hand shits. From here the novel spins out into a much wider world full of spies and subterfuge, where death is only a sudden sword stroke away. As the Stark family motto tells us, ‘winter is coming’, and as the season changes so too does the balance of power.

The novel is told in third person (he or she) but with a shifting character focus each chapter. Martin uses this well, narrating the same events from opposing sides. Sometimes, in building up to a crucial piece of the plot, it is only after you have read two or three chapters that you can put the pieces together. The Stark family take up the majority of chapters: Eddard, his wife Catelyn and the children - both his bastard son and the ‘trueborn’. Eddard is loyal, pious and kind; the classic hero every fantasy novel needs. However Martin does not keep things one sided. We also follow an exiled princess, and a personal favourite, Tyrion Lannister, devious brother-in-law of the King. While the Lannisters are the ‘bad guys’ in this book, Tyrion is just enough of an outcast in his own family, and given such an intelligent and witty mind, that you can like him. Martin is adept at making you feel for characters who are not necessarily likable. Sansa the eldest Stark daughter is unbearably prim, but throughout the second novel I found myself reading her chapters with a sense of dread at the helpless position she is placed in.

Martin imbues the books with a sense of history. Events in the past are defining the loyalties in current politics. With so many characters and competing storylines, never mind the world building, these books are dense, but I think Martin does well to keep the narrative clear and easy to follow. But beware there is no neat ending. The fifth book has just been published and more are supposedly coming. My main concern is: Martin, don’t go all Robert Jordan on us. The books are large, but I think a fairly easy read for their size. However if they are too daunting, there is always the HBO series. Sean Bean is in it and that’s never going to hurt.