I have burbled happily about Lois McMaster Bujold’s fantasy novels here before (I’ve yet to sample her SF — can someone recommend where to start?), but not about her newest series, The Sharing Knife, which first appeared in 2006. I read the first volume, Beguilement when it came out, right after I first read The Curse of Chalion, and remember feeling a little disappointed in it. It was well written, and the characters had all the intrinsic appeal that Bujold conveys so well; in fact, I was quite engrossed in the tale until I was about 20 pages from the end, well into denouement territory, and I realized that nothing much had happened, story-wise. The climax of the book, if it can even be called that (and I won’t say what it was, for the sake of those of you who haven’t read it), was pretty low-impact, not the sort of “wowee wow wow” explosion (and I mean that most metaporically) of Chalion (and of Paladin of Souls though I hadn’t read that yet). Clearly, as I finished the book, the story was meant to continue, and in fact I found out later that books one and two were supposed to be one volume — they split it up for production cost or some such excuse.
Well, by the time the second volume, Legacy, came out last year, the urge to know what happened next had faded a bit, and because it was in hardcover, I put off buying it. But a few weeks ago, a chance came up (via the Eos books blog) to get an ARC of the third volume, Passage, in exchange for writing a reader review by the time of the book’s release on April 22nd. Never one to pass up on cool free stuff, I jumped at the opportunity. Nevermind the fact that this meant I had to go out and buy Legacy first, in hardcover because it’s not been released in paperback yet. Free is still free, no matter how much it costs you.
Whew. I need to learn to cut down this introductory blather.
Because I read the two books one on top of the other, it’s hard to talk about them separately. And really, that’s how it should be. In fact, I would go so far to say that to really understand and appreciate these books, we’re all going to have to wait until book #4 comes out in a year or so, because my sense of the story being told is of one comprehensive arc, not three or four independent stories that happen to come one after the next.
Now, a lot of people might call these books “romantic fantasy”, because of the heavy emphasis on the relationship between the two main characters, Fawn and Dag. Another term that might apply is “domestic fantasy,” since the emphasis is on ordinary folk doing more or less ordinary things (as opposed to kings, gods, wizards, etc. faced with extraordinary times, as comprises so much epic or high fantasy). I think Passage does a good job of shaking off both these labels. Yes, the romance is still important, but now we see that it is merely an essential catalyst that initiates the real story, which is about resolving the differences that divide the two cultures that Fawn and Dag represent, and very possibly (we’ll have to wait for book 4 to prove me right or wrong on this) resolving or at least better understanding the underlying evil that plagues both societies. As for domesticity, there’s till plenty of that (maybe too much, but more on that later) but Fawn and Dag are no longer even attempting ordinary lives in Passage, and much of the plot is taken up with their decidedly un-ordinary actions and events spawned by them.
I know, if you haven’t read the other books you’re helplessly confused right now because, really, I’m a terrible review writer. So let me try to explain succinctly and without giving away too many spoilers. The setting of The Sharing Knife books is remarkably similar to a pre-industrial Ohio, geographically and technologically, with the exception that there are no firearms. It may, in fact, be a post-apocalyptic Ohio — we learn of a long-ago magical disaster that wiped out much of civilization and still has repercussions in the land, in the form of “malices”, evil beings that are (apparently) spontaneously generated in random locations, and can suck the lifeforce from everything in the vicinity. Fawn is one of the farmer folk, who as a whole fear and mistrust Dag’s people, the Lakewalkers, semi-nomadic tribes who use magic (though they don’t call it magic) to battle the malices and keep the land safe. In the course of the first two books, Fawn and Dag meet, fall in love, and then try to make a life for themselves amongst all those who are against their relationship. The primary tension through these volumes is whether or not their relationship will survive despite all odds.
Now, I can’t talk about book three without spoiling for you that, yes, they do manage to stick it out together. I’ll try not to give away more than that, though. In book three, the pair set off (with an oddball collection of others) to see something of the wider world and, hopefully, find a place where they can settle into it. The bulk of their journey takes place along the Grace (cf. Ohio) river, and the story takes as leisurely a pace as the river current does — which is definitely not a bad thing. I enjoy the way Bujold lets the story unfold, letting her characters come to events instead of forcing events upon her characters. It doesn’t hurt that her characters, primary and secondary, are so well-drawn that just watching them be themselves is plenty entertaining. It is not a anxious-making page-turner in the usual sense (”Oh my gosh, what’s going to happen next?!?”) but I kept turning pages because it was just plain fun to read.
Bujold’s writing style throughout the books is a rolling, back-country cant well suited to the setting she’s writing in. It gets in your brain though, like watching a Firefly marathon will do, only you’ll be saying “blight” all the time instead of “gorram” (I did think blight was a bit overused … we have a lot more variety in standard English). Just don’t be surprised if you end up talking like a hick for a while after reading it (no offense meant to all my hick friends in the world!).
If I have one gripe with the book(s), it is a feminist one. Early in book one, Fawn seems poised to be a dynamic female lead — she is smart, curious and unafraid; her decision to leave home initiates the story, and she even takes out one of the malices herself. However, after that, her role in the story seems to drop off to little more than helpmate to Dag. In book 2, she spends a lot of time spinning and sewing and cooking and coddling of her mate — the one definitive action she takes (setting off on her own to go to him when he’s in trouble) only puts her in a position that allows him to solve the current dilemma. She herself is just a bystander, a position that becomes even more pronounced in Passage, when her role becomes little more than to inspire and encourage Dag as he explores his burgeoning powers and confronts some of the mysteries that make up their world. Even throwing her in the direct line of danger is only an excuse to test Dag’s abilities — she just stands around and waits for him to rescue her. I like Fawn, don’t get me wrong, I’d just like her to have the chance to do something notable in her own right.
As far as typical fantasy goes, this one is pretty anti-fantasy. The familiarity of the setting (at least for an American audience), the nature of the magic in use, and the very un-epicness of the narrative, create a unique niche for this book. It’s something that I’d feel easy recommending to people who are a bit leery about trying fantasy literature (wizards and dragons can be daunting, you know), and those already devoted to the genre will find it a pleasant revision of the familiar tropes. All in all, I was very happy with the book, and am now anxious for the fourth and (I believe) final volume to come out. While I have no idea what Fawn and Dag are going to do next (the narrative had no suggestion whatsoever), I do have a lot of suspicions and I want to see if they will hold out or not. Mostly, though, I just want to enjoy more of Bujold’s smooth prose, irresistible characters and compelling storytelling.
