I realized, after the last post, that I tend to focus on what’s I didn’t like about a book when I write up my comments on it. That’s my inner editor at work, I think, picking on others’ writing because I haven’t done any of my own lately for it to pick on. Or perhaps it’s a vestige of my last writers’ group, which as a whole focused on telling the author of any given piece what they did wrong, or “you should do it this way instead.” That’s why I’m not a part of the group anymore.

As far as Ysabel goes, I was disappointed because it lacks the poignancy I loved from his earlier books. But while that may be missing, there are still a lot of real good things about this book, as you can see has been pointed out in the reviews posted at his site. I’ll excuse my failure to linger over the good parts by saying I’m not really writing reviews here so much as a quickly written up response to a book I’ve just finished. But I promise I’ll try to be less negative in future write ups, and include what I like as well as what I didn’t like.

Ysabel
by Guy Gavriel Kay

“You have blundered into a corner of a very old story…”

Ned Marriner is spending six weeks with his father in France, where the celebrated photographer is shootign Saint-Sauveur Cathedral in Aix-en-Provence. Both father and son fear for Ned’s mother — a physician with Doctors Without Bordres, currently assigned to the civil war-torn country of Sudan. This is not the first time she’s placed herself in harm’s way to help alleviate suffering — and Ned has inherited her courage. He’ll need it.

While exploring the cathedral, Ned meets Kate Wenger, an American exchange student with a deep knowledge of the area’s history. But even Kate is at a losss when she and Ned surprise a scar-faced stranger, wearing a leather jacket and carrying a knife, deep inside the cathedral. “I think you ought to go now,” he tells them. “You have blundered into a corner of a very old story…”

In this ancient place, where the borders between the livng and the long-dead are thin, Ned and his family are about to be drawn into a haunted tale, as mythic figures from conflicts of long ago erupt into the present, changing — and claiming — lives.

You know an author must be one of your favorites when you find his newly released novel in the sort room of the bookstore where you work and you carry it around with you for the remaining hour of your shit, even though you are still working. Yes, that’s the kind of draw the work of Guy Gavriel Kay has for me; it’s been a year since the release of Ysabel was announced, and I’ve been watching the inventory at work closely, waiting for the long anticipated date of its arrival. I even squee’d aloud when I saw the books on the back table — fortunately no one else was there to hear me.

Despite my excitement, I did not delve into the book immediately upon arriving home. First of all, I was really tired that day, and I didn’t want my reading experience dulled by fatigue. I was also still enmeshed in Vellum, and I knew if I interrupted my reading of that book, I’d never be able to get back to finishing it. I was also experiencing strange pair of emotions, sort of the flip sides of the same coin, that kept me from diving in as soon as I could. One was the knowledge that once I finished it, I would never have that magical “first kiss” again; sometimes when you anticipate a great experience, you want to put it off as long as possible, to increase your enjoyment of it. The second feeling was fear, fear that maybe the book wouldn’t be as great an experience as I was hoping.

I’ve been let down by Kay before, after all. My first encounter with his work was A Song for Arbonne, which a friend recommended to me knowing my interest in the Middle Ages. I was quickly hooked by Kay’s style, the poignancy of his storytelling, the subtle blending of myth, history and fantasy –everything just clicked for me and I quickly devoured every other work of his available up to that point: The Fionavar Tapestry, Tigana (my absolute favorite), The Lions of Al-Rassan. When the first volume of The Sarantine Mosaic came out, I was a little disappointed, and didn’t pick up the second volume until it came out in paperback. It wasn’t until I read both books together, a few years later, that I realized what a masterpiece it is. The Last Light of the Sun, however, Kay’s last book before Ysabel, remains a disappointment even after a couple of readings — Oh, it’s not by any means a bad book, and I’d rather read it than a lot of other fantasy fiction on the shelves. It just didn’t have the same impact on me that his earlier books did.

Sadly, the same is true of Ysabel, for a few reasons. The major one is that Kay’s distinctive lyric style, which heightens the emotional poignancy of the story (for me, at least…I know other readers who’d be put off by it) and elevates the tale and characters into a more mythic space, cannot survive the impact with cellphones, iPods and the World Wide Web. The book is set entirely in the real, modern world, a first for Kay, and while there is plenty of magical stuff happening, a true sense of being in a mythic space is never achieved. A lot of it has to do with language, and a lot of it has to do with technology. The hero’s solo descent into the underworld (which happens to be up a mountain in this book) just doesn’t seem quite so heroic when he flips open his cellphone at any time to check in with his dad.

This is also the first time Kay’s main character is an adolescent; even the youngest primary characters he’s created before have already crossed the threshold into adulthood. I don’t have a problem with young protagonists, and I should just be thankful that Ned isn’t a stereotypical angst-ridden teen. He’s a pretty normal kid, up until the start of the book, but that normalness is almost a drawback here. Aside from his concern for his mom, he has no depth, nothing that makes him stand out as a character we want to care about; I might even go so far as to say he’s a typical Mary-Sue — the average kid unexpectedly granted extraordinary abilities.

The most interesting characters (including, even, the surprise appearance of a couple of familiar faces from one of Kay’s other books — I won’t spoil the surprise by saying who) are those we see the least of, the three ancient individuals in whose story Ned becomes entangled. Even though Kay’s explored the tragic lovers’ triangle before (twice, actually, in the Fionavar Tapestry and The Lions of Al-Rassan), I wouldn’t have minded a repeat here, if only we’d been able to see more of it. These are the only three characters with real depth in the tale, and we are left guessing at most of their history together, tantalizing glimpse of the great story behind the series of events that make up the novel.

I guess what I miss most is the emotional impact that Kay’s earlier works seemed to have. I want to be moved to tears, like when Dianora walks into the sea or Diarmuid rides into battle for the last time or Rodrigo and Ammar must duel to the death. I want to be struck with the mystery of seeing a riselka, and feel the joy at discovering an unexpected love. That’s what I want most from a Kay novel, and I’m disappointed not to have found it once again. Well, you can’t strike gold every time, right? I’ll just have to put my hopes on hold until Kay’s next book is ready for me to read.

Upcoming:
Stealing Fire from the Gods by James Bonnet
Blood and Thunder: An Epic of the American West by Hampton Sides
Daughter of Fortune by Isabel Allende
The Worm Ouroboros by E.R. Eddison

The current Mythic Passages newsletter features an article about author Guy Gavriel Kay. It reminds me very much of an interview I did with Kay myself, The Mythic Heart.

I recall my mother and oldest sister reading The Fionaver Tapestry when I was in my early teens, but I didn’t read it myself then. It was much later, after I had graduated from college and retired from graduate school, that my friend Jane recommended A Song for Arbonne to me. After finishing it, I quickly devoured all the rest of his works available in the public library, and have eagerly anticipated each new book. I should write Jane a letter to say thanks.