I admit to a science fiction reader shortcoming: I love to watch science fiction, but usually don’t care to read it, especially the sub-genre of ‘hard science fiction.’
And to be completely honest, I thought I gave myself a migraine reading the first pages of Dragon’s Egg (an astrophysics crash course in neutron stars). Once past the cold hard super-heavy facts, I thoroughly enjoyed the development of the cheela life-form and the brief interaction the human scientists experienced.
I completely sympathized with the crew of the Dragon Slayer not wanting to blink, let alone sleep, as they watched the astonishing development of cheela society. In just a few hours, the cheela civilization went from ‘savages, stagnating in an illiterate haze’ to outpacing human development by ‘many thousands of years.’ Relatively speaking, of course.
I didn’t connect to any one particular cheela, since their lifespans were so short in human terms, nor with any of the scientists, who got the short-end of the stick when it came to their story-line. But my eyes teared up reading a farewell delivered by a cheela robot to the human scientists, a fitting benediction to a benevolent mutually beneficial first contact interaction.
Recommended for all fans of science fiction, first contact stories and hard sci-fi novels.
Saturday evening, I found myself in the basement under Left Bank Books in downtown St. Louis with several hundred other ‘friends of friends’ waiting for Patrick Rothfuss to speak about Kvothe, Denna, musicianship, spoilers (and appropriate punishments for people who deliver them), poetry, guinea pig abuse and writing advice (using Oot to demonstrate his point).
Patrick Rothfuss Reading at Left Bank Books
Earlier in the afternoon, after Terry and I had drooled over several gorgeous classic muscle cars at Fast Lane in St. Charles, Missouri, we ventured downtown to seek out the best parking options around Left Bank Books. We found a sea of green celebrants overflowing the streets, and most of the street parking discouraged by order of the police for the annual St. Patrick’s Day Parade (five days early). What with the construction, blocked off streets and pseudo-Irish crowds, we aborted our reconnaissance and returned to our motel.
Concerned we might need to take the MetroLink rail, I called Left Bank and asked if the parade and parking situation would clear up before the event. They assured me it shouldn’t be a problem. Terry didn’t think he would do well walking the half mile from the closest rail stop nor standing around the book store for a few hours, so he opted to stay in our room but wouldn’t let me take the rail. So I left extra early in order to find the best parking spot. I lucked out and got a nearly front door spot before 5:30 pm. I fed a dollar’s worth of quarters into the meter (which amounted to one hour’s worth of parking grace) with the intention of getting change for a five when I retrieved my pre-ordered hardcover inside the store.
I picked up my pre-ordered (but completely undiscounted full retail price) copy of Wise Man’s Fear at the counter and asked for change to feed the meter. I learned I didn’t need to pay for parking downtown on Saturdays or Sundays. My signing ticket placed me in the first group, thankfully. I found a quiet corner and read another chapter in Magician: Master while I waited for the basement room to officially open at 6:00 pm
Left Bank Books borrowed the basement room, obviously setup for a house band including mics, speakers and a soundboard, for Pat’s reading. I snagged a third row end seat so I could move freely down the left aisle for photographic angle freedom. After only a few minutes, Pat arrived and began pre-signing a few books, mostly from the front rows (he almost got to me before the official start time) and families with small children.
Pat started his talk with a few ground rules, after noting the basement venue (complete with band equipment and beer dispensing) might prove to be his most ‘rock-n-roll’ event setting to date. While he encouraged photographs, he emphatically requested a ban on all video, providing some hilarious examples and excuses. I had hoped to record his talk, but my video camera had lost it’s charge overnight when I left it in the cold trunk overnight, and his request made it moot anyway. He moved on to spoilers, and his loathing of those who spoil, especially those who ask questions and proclaim them not spoilerish (a sure indication the question will be a spoiler).
For the next hour, Pat answered questions with humorous anecdotes. He finally took a break from Q&A and polled us for something to read, placing a short non-spoiler section of Wise Man’s Fear, some of his own poetry or one of his humorous weekly advice columns from his college days. We more or less agreed on the latter and thus did I learn of Pat’s penchant for guinea pig abuse (you really had to be there).
After a few more questions, Pat retired upstairs to begin the signing gauntlet. At even just one minute per person, he probably had six or eight hours (starting at 8:30 pm) of arm numbing signatures to write. I actually made it back to the motel about an hour later.
Pat signing two hardcovers for me and two for my uncle.
I had a fantastic evening listening to and laughing with Pat. If you haven’t yet read his first novel, I highly recommend The Name of the Wind. I hope to finish the sequel, The Wise Man’s Fear within the next week or so. And even though, according to Pat’s research, fantastic fiction is in the literary basement (pun intended I’m sure), just slightly below science fiction and barely above westerns and romances on said totem pole, his novel dominated the NYT Best Seller’s List (for Fiction) it’s first week after release!
I woke up to the second day of March with significantly more sleep than I got for the first day. And, a stunning sunrise evolved over the course of my commute from home to Kansas City, Missouri:
Sunrise Wed 2 Mar 2011 over Kansas City, Missouri skyline
I enjoyed my cran-raspberry white chocolate scone (baked Sunday morning) with two cups of average tea (just Lipton for easy prep) while cleaning up log files before monitoring MOSS 2007 crawl a large content source. At least I have no meetings scheduled for today.
I’m looking forward to a short walk at lunch to take advantage of Planet Sub‘s double punch day. This evening, I’ll take a long walk with Roxy during Wolfguard‘s practice.
Ah, the joys of tax preparation season and gathering all the necessary documentation for filing an itemized return, especially when some of your offspring don’t answer their cell phones and may never check or respond to their voice-mail messages.
And the things my husband says when I gather the appropriate information and return his call to relate said information:
“Would there happen to be a pen up here?” meaning the kitchen table.
“I have no idea. I was a secretary for years and have no desire to be one again. I keep mine in my purse.” my reply.
“Well, I only have two places to keep a pen on me, and neither one of them pleasant.” his reply which sparked images that may scar me for the rest of my life.
While speaking to one of my offspring’s significant others, I learned all of them (my offspring and their better halves) are involved in indoor soccer leagues. I feel so left out of the loop. I adamantly requested photos and updates at the first opportunity.
I despair of ever catching up on my group reads. I have at least two left over from February, bleeding over into March. I may drop everything so I can read the newly released (yesterday and in the mail to me right now via pre-order from Barnes & Nobel) The Wise Man’s Fear. The rest of my current reads pile can be found here.
And I’ve been asked to lead the discussion in two different groups, the first on Willis’ Doomsday Book and the second on Jemisin’s The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms. As if I needed anything else to do.
I’m speechless and breathless (and have been for several weeks) after finishing this penultimate tipping-point volume in Janny Wurts’ Wars of Light and Shadow series. Even taking a break and reading a half dozen other books hasn’t allowed me to express the emotions that wracked me or the wonders assuaging them. Not since reading Janny’s To Ride Hell’s Chasm has a book’s pacing been so unrelenting and rewarding. And to think she wrote that novel after Peril’s Gate to step back from writing this series!
I highly recommend this book, but also strongly suggest you not start with this novel. Begin at the beginning, with Curse of the Mistwraith and immerse yourself in all things Atheran.
Back in mid to late January, I reviewed the suggested reading list for the Altered States reading program promoted by the Kansas City Public Library. Many familiar titles popped out at me like Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451, Golding’s Lord of the Flies, Twain’s A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court and PKD’s The Man in the High Castle. The more modern (recently published) offerings I’d seen making the rounds of the GoodReads book clubs over the past couple of years, titles like McCarthy’s The Road, Bacigalupi’s The Windup Girl, Chabon’s The Yiddish Policeman’s Union (currently in a run-off poll at the SciFi & Fantasy Book Club for our March 2011 selection), Priest’s Boneshaker and Moore’s The Watchmen.
With limited reading time, and way too many book clubs to keep up with, I quickly eliminated the two books I’d already read: Fforde’s The Eyre Affair and Clarke’s Jonathon Strange & Mr. Norrell (see my GoodReads reviews below). I visited my local used bookstore twice and found a copy of Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451, Twain’s A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court and Golding’s Lord of the Flies. I found a public domain ebook version of London’s The Iron Heel. I placed a hold on Lewis’ It Can’t Happen Here and PKD’s The Man in the High Castle. I’ve read two of those five, and started a third one, with the other two waiting patiently on my shelf at home.
Of the remaining suggested titles, I plan to read Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale (because I should have a long time ago) and Roberts’ Pavane (because it sounds interesting and more remote from my own times).
I read The Iron Heel and Connecticut Yankee simultaneously, an experience I’m not soon to forget. I may someday re-read Twain’s novel, but I find myself wishing I’d passed over London’s weak attempt at novelizing a political tract (see my review below and click through to see the comments of other GoodReads readers and reviewers). The KC Library’s blurb on it just doesn’t do it justice (tongue firmly in cheek):
Considered the first modern dystopian novel, The Iron Heel is presented as the fictional autobiography of American revolutionary Avis Everhard and her struggles against the Oligarchy, a group of robber barons that co-opted the U.S. Army and forced the middle class into serfdom. The narrative is complemented by sometimes extensive footnotes written from the perspective of a future scholar and descendent of the revolution inspired by Everhard. The Iron Heel proved a strong influence on George Orwell as he wrote 1984.
Another comparatively similar novel, but better written, Lewis’ It Can’t Happen Here shows a chilling and plausible turn of events in 1930s America. I’m only a few chapters into it, but I can’t wait to continue reading it. You can follow along with me via my status updates here and eventually read my review once I finish (all on the same page for easy navigating).
I hope to finish all these novels prior to the end of the Altered States reading program. Either way, I’ll post an occasional travelogue here as a I journey through the Warped Zone of dystopian, apocalyptic and alternate reality/history fiction.
A wonderful thing happened on the way to The Eyre Affair; I read Jane Eyre. For that alone I will be eternally grateful.
Otherwise, it was an enjoyable but forgettable mystery set in a chaotic vortex of genres spanning paranormal, science fiction, alternate history, and time travel. At one point, it even reminded me of Butcher’s Dresden series.
The puns, literary references and alternate history gaffs intrigued me and sparked quick forays of research to confirm or deny my suspicions.
I have the sequel Lost in a Good Book waiting in the wings to see what happens Next.
This novel was rich on many levels. It was fantasy, for it had magic and fairies, but it was also historical fiction, possibly even an alternate history of Britain during and shortly after the Napoleonic Wars. It’s pacing matched that of the times, sedate and thoughtful, rich in detail and characters.
Gilbert Norrell is a miserly magician of Yorkshire who hoards any and all books of magic he can get his hands on. His first act of magic in the novel actually results in the dissolution of a society of theoretical magicians in York for the sole purpose of making himself the only magician in Britain.
Jonathan Strange is an idle gentleman who stumbles upon his talent for magic and like a moth to the flame, flies to Mr. Norrell, the only source of magical information, and becomes his pupil. Their association lasts for several months until Strange surpasses Norrell in inventiveness and intuition and Norrell sends him to assist the army in Spain.
In Spain, Strange eventually becomes indispensable to Lord Wellington, initially by providing magic roads for the British Army to use which disappear back to a morass of mud just in time for the French Army to get bogged down in. Finally, Strange’s magic turns the tide of the Battle of Waterloo and thus ends the reign of Emperor Bounaparte.
Three background characters are pivotal to the story. The first is Emma Wintertowne, who eventually becomes Lady Pole after marrying Sir Walter Pole. But only after she is resurrected by Mr. Norrell with his second and most famous act of magic. But Norrell bargains away half of Emma’s life to the fairy he summoned to ressurect her, a fairy gentleman we know only as “the gentleman with the thistle down hair.” This resurrection reults in the enchantment and imprisonment of Lady Pole in the fairy hall of Lost-hope, doomed to dance and endless balls or participate in pointless processions.
The second supporting character also enchanted by the fairy gentleman is Sir Walter’s butler, a black man named Stephen Black. The fairy took a queer liking and attachment to Stephen and forced him to attend the same balls and processions that Lady Pole suffered. Both Lady Pole and Stephen were returned to the real world each morning, but they both suffered exhaustion and distraction from living a double life, which both were prevented from relating to others of their predicament.
The third enchanted and most tragic figure was Strange’s wife, Arabella. Because Arabella struck up a friendship with the ailing Lady Pole, she came into the sphere of the gentleman with the thistle down hair. He immediately sought to enchant her permanently to the halls of Lost-hope. With Stephen’s reluctant assistance, he was able to pull Arabella into fairy, seemingly causing her to perish to her family and friends.
Strange was nearly mad with grief but was eventually persuaded to take a long holiday on the continent, where he met another English family, the Greysteels. It seemed he was on the path of a second marriage to Flora Greysteel, when he discovered a pathway to fairy, stumbling upon the hall of Lost-hope and learning of the fates of Lady Pole, Stephen and his wife, Arabella. The rest of the novel is Strange’s struggle to free the women. As we learn later, Stephen breaks his own and Arabella’s enchantments when the opportunity presents itself.
Two of the most interesting supporting characters were Mr. Childermass, Mr. Norrell’s strangely independent servant, and Vinculus, a seedy street sorcerer of London, run out of town by Mr. Norrell thanks to the efficient efforts of Mr. Childermass. Both of these characters provide some of the most colorful scenes and plots to the novel.
And in the background, every present in the sky, on the wind or sleeping in the stones, is the Raven King, a mythic being from Britain’s past, a king who reigned in Northern England, in fairy and in Hell. He is vital and instrumental in the return of English magic.
The ending was sad and somewhat tragic, but not unexpected.
If you enjoy historical fiction, especially of the early 19th century, you will enjoy this novel and savor it for many hours, especially curled up by the fire with a warm cup of tea.
Dystopian, or very dated alternate history, which drowned me in Marxism and the evils of capitalism as viewed through the lens of the very early 20th century. My perspective, a century later, shows many of these ills have been legislatively remedied. Not much of a story or plot, no real character growth; mostly essay or lecture on socialism, topped off with stomping feet, neo-terrorism and the beginnings of a non-nuclear Cold War.
Last year, the Kansas City Public Library, through the Waldo Branch, embarked on a journey through 19th century literature with an adult reading program entitled ‘A Taste of Victorian Literature.’ I could only attend one of the group sessions last fall, the first one, on D.H. Lawrence’s novel The Rainbow. To my relief, the Library provided an encore this spring, hosted by the Plaza Branch (conveniently located on the first floor of the building my employer resides in) and I happily attended last night’s lecture and discussion led by Andrea Broomfield, Associate Professor of English at Johnson County Community College.
I received my reading guide for Mansfield Parkby Jane Austen via electronic mail on Monday, Valentine’s Day, February 14, 2011. The guide included a few brief paragraphs about the book and Ms. Austen (about half a page for each). Never having read an Austen novel, and being at least half finished with it by the time I received the guide, imagine my chagrin when I learned Mansfield Park is sometimes referred to as Austen’s ‘problem novel.’
However, I had no qualms while reading the novel, expecting a slower pacing when compared to 20th or 21st century literature. I appreciated the circumstances surrounding of Fanny’s life, family and friends, as presented by the author. Austen’s third novel falls under a broader definition of Victorian Literature; to me it’s a precursor to that era, a transition from the Regency era, and more pleasantly readable prose than later Victorian didactic sledgehammer-esque efforts. The guide also included a brief biography of Jane Austen (1775- 1817), stating she wrote as she lived, with nuance and realism.
I arrived fifteen minutes early to the Plaza Branch, seeking directions to the appropriate gathering place, in the ‘large’ meeting room between the non-fiction section and the children’s area. By 6:30 p.m., I was one of a packed room of thirty people, all of them female with the exception of one besieged stalwart male who participated graciously and gallantly. I should have spoken up in his support; first, because, while female myself, I suffer under the auspices of a gender-confusing name (yes, it’s pronounced just like “John” not some strangely misspelled “Joan”) and, second, because I rarely ever read anything of a romantic nature, unless it happens to slip in as a subplot to an epic fantasy, space opera or science fiction novel.
Andrea Broomfield, Associate Professor of English, JCCC
Andrea Broomfield began her lecture (complete with dimmed lights and a PowerPoint), of which I will briefly recap from my illegibly scribbled notes. First question up for discussion involved why Mansfield Park would be considered a Victorian novel. Queen Victoria ascended to the throne in June of 1837, twenty years after the death of Jane Austen. Yet transformations to society began prior to the 1830s, burgeoning in the late 18th century, during the life of Jane Austen and as expressed in Mansfield Park‘s internal chronology (roughly thirty years spanning 1783 to 1813). Professor Broomfield related that Punch magazine actually coined the phrase “Victorian” sometime in the 1840s.
Queen Victoria of England, by Alexander Melville, 1845
The time span encompassing the reign of Queen Victoria, from 1837 to her death in 1901, provides a frame of reference to discuss the impact of industrialization on society. Industrialization transformed the existing land and power structures and encouraged the rise of the middle class as society transitioned from an agrarian based (i.e. cottage industries) economy to an industrialized one. The Evangelical movement within the Church of England helped to abolish slavery and became the foundation for promoting what we now refer to as Middle Class Values (more on that later).
But who are the Middle Class? They are well educated (engineers, accountants, lawyers, professors, bankers, merchants, etc.) and well paid, but non-aristocratic in origin. This fostered unrest, as only the aristocracy (those who owned land) were allowed to vote, and essentially a small group of people (approximately 5,000 families) controlled the government and the church. With such examples as the American and French Revolutions to fuel the fire, the established gentry felt threatened by the burgeoning wealthy middle class, who, in turn, began to demand a voice in their destinies.
Queen Victoria not only accepted middle class values, she championed them, including piety, sobriety, morality, monogamy, hard work. At this point, I should have spoken up, because I saw a parallel hear between middle class values and Wesley‘s Methodist Means of Grace. Mary Crawford scathingly referenced Methodism when she showed her true colors to Edmund’s unveiled eyes late in the novel. Austen, a village parson’s daughter, should have been aware of her contemporary, John Wesley (1703 – 1791), even though he died while she was but a teen.
Professor Broomfield continued with a bit of history around the time Mansfield Park was written and published (1813-4), often referred to as the Regency era, or the period when King George III went mad and his young son ruled as Prince Regent. A dominance of aristocratic values are portrayed in Austen’s characters of Mr. Yates (idleness), Mr. Rushworth (waste of money/resources), Maria Bertram (laziness) and Henry Crawford (flirtation). The only obligation the aristocracy had was to maintain the status quo, which meant siring a male heir to secure the land for the next generation. Thus, they did as they pleased and set their own standards of conduct. The rest of society, the working class and rising middle class, viewed the aristocracy with contempt, as corrupted and completely depraved.
Engraving of Steventon rectory, home of the Austen family during much of Jane Austen's lifetime.
One of the slides from Professor Broomfield’s presentation displayed Austen’s home at the Steventon rectory, exemplifying the typical middle class modest home with divided rooms (in contrast, the working class often lived, dined and slept in a single or at most two room homes). The Reform Act of 1832 let off the steam of the bubbling boiling uneasy middle class, averting bloody revolution by changing the electoral system of England and Wales.
The crucible of Austen’s life and times included the rise of evangelicism, the abolition of slavery (see William Wilberforce for more information), the ascendancy of the British Navy and the accentuating of class differences. Professor Bloomfield gave an apt illustration of those differences using poetry as her example. Poetry (and poets) comprised an ‘elite’ art form, reserved for the aristocracy. Yet an educated middle class yearned for entertainment of a more accessible flavor, creating a void for literature that authors like Austen eagerly filled. Victorians are idealistic, always in earnest, convinced they can solve all the world’s problems and most assuredly not cynical.
With less than thirty minutes left for our five discussion questions, Professor Broomfield opened up the floor with the following:
If you have read other Austen novels, then you likely see some differences between Mansfield Park and Austen’s other works. What are those differences? Why might critics consider this novel to be the most ‘Victorian’ of Austen’s novels, even though the novel was published before Victoria became Queen of England?
Mansfield Park is considered a ‘Condition of England’ novel. In these types of novels, the author uses fiction as a means to critique the culture around her/him. What aspects of English culture come under Austen’s scrutiny? How does Austen use her main characters — the Crawfords, the Bertrams, Fanny and William, Mr. Rushworth and Mrs. Norris — to comment on what people should and should not value?
Do you find Fanny to be a likable heroine? Do you find Edmund to be a likable hero? Why or why not?
What is the purpose of the attempted play at Mansfield Park, both before and after it is aborted?
Consider any dramatized versions you have seen of Mansfield Park and how they differ from the actual Austen novel. Are the plot, narrative voice, and characters of Mansfield Park simply too old-fashioned or outmoded for a contemporary audience’s sensibilities?
We only managed to tackle three of these questions. In response to the first question, comments included a feeling that Austen was just coming into her voice, a more mature voice as compared to her other more popular titles. Fanny’s reticence and control upheld and exemplified.
With respect to the second ‘Condition of England’ novel question, the disparity between rich and poor as seen through Austen’s characters in Mansfield Park began with Mr. Rushworth, described as a ‘rich boob’ or a ‘buffoon,’ a terrifying thought since his like were ruling England, the figure of a man with little or no substance. Many readers enjoyed Mary Crawford, despite her faults: wanting to marry for money, position, privilege, power; self-absorption.
This led to a discussion of the philosophical debate contemporaneous to Austen’s times on why people marry. Fanny (as well as Austen) believed marriage should be made for love while Mary Crawford stood for opportunistic marrying for position. Edmund wants to blame her upbringing as a rational explanation for Mary’s lack of a moral compass. Mary epitomized the ‘Old England’ while Fanny portrayed the ‘New England’ as it ‘should be.’
Mansfield Park published by Penguin Classics
Austen uses her characters to force her readers to think and her novels always have an economic component to them; jockeying for position, especially among the women. Professor Broomfield took a few minutes to read Edmund’s dialogue on pp. 424-6 of the Penguin Classics edition, where Austen attempts to teach us why we should like Mary. Mary is telling Edmund that if Fanny had married Henry, none of the scandal would have happened. Edmund realizes he fell in love with an imaginary Mary. Mary’s sarcasm and cynicism clashes with Victorian ideals, and appears to us (in the 21st century) as a very modern attitude. Edmund, blinded to Mary’s un-virtues for much of the novel, is now disgusted by her, yet he is always sincere. Fanny, poor neglected and ignored Fanny, might as well have been an orphan, curtailed by her ambiguous class position throughout most of the novel. In contrast to the pale, wispy Fanny, Marilyn Flugum-James, seated next to Julienne Gehrer (a representative of the local Jane Austen Society), likened Mrs. Norris and Mary Crawford to ‘bright colors on the canvas of this novel.’
With only five minutes left, Professor Broomfield quickly skipped to the final question about any dramatizations we may have seen of Mansfield Park. I vaguely remember watching the much maligned 1999 film version, but only remember it as a period murder mystery (so perhaps I need to re-visit that film now). Many readers touted the 1980s era Masterpiece Theatre mini-series. The A&E version was also mentioned, but not as highly regarded.
And thus ended my second evening foray into the 19th century literature I managed to avoid both in high school and college (engineering and mathematics not lending studying time to the finer arts). I had a very enjoyable evening and look forward to next month’s discussion of Jane Eyre, published in 1847 by Charlotte Brontë under a masculine pen name. Professor Broomfield posed these questions in closing to ponder as we read (or re-read) Jane Eyre:
What makes this novel radical (when published, it created a huge scandal)?
What makes it Victorian?
I read Jane Eyre last year, not for this group, but rather as a prerequisite to reading Jasper Fforde’s The Eyre Affair. Ironically, Mr. Fforde headlines the signature event for the other winter adult reading program sponsored by the Kansas City Public Library on Thursday, March 17th. Look for a future blog post on my progress through some of the Altered States suggested readings.
I am kicking myself for not reading this novel when published, my only excuse being I was a teenager with no funds and no connections (remember the state of the Internet in 1982?). I lived twenty miles away from the nearest library back then. If my mom didn’t own the book, I didn’t get to read it.
This story overflows with likable characters: Pug, Tomas, Carline, Roland, Arutha, Kulgan, Meecham, just to name a few. The pacing skips, trots, canters, gallops, crashes, walks, jumps, and flies. The magic system teases you through Pug’s apprenticeship, yet we glimpse broader examples through Kulgan and the invaders. The classic fantasy races make an appearance via elves (both light and dark or good and bad as you prefer), dwarfs, goblins, trolls and dragons.
The world building interwove seamlessly with the narrative as we followed along with Pug and Tomas as they ventured along with the Duke’s expedition to seek aid to stave off an invasion of aliens from his royal kin over the mountains and east of his far western holding of Crydee. The aliens control rifts between their world, Kellewan, and Midkemia, where the Kingdom reigns through the Duke’s royal relatives. Through these rifts, the aliens establish a bridgehead and proceed to slowly encroach upon Midkemia, first to mine metals in the mountains east of Crydee, and then to expand westward to gain access to the sea.
The book ends abruptly, but understandably so, since the original publication was one large volume, not the two we see today published as Magician: Apprentice and Magician: Master. I look forward to reading the second half of this opening salvo in the Riftwar Saga next month.
Five years have passed since we last saw Rhenn. He’s married and has a daughter now. He’s continued to climb the ladder at Image Isle and now resides with his family and a servant in a house on that island.
We see more of the dark side of covert operations in Solidar and how Rhenn responds when thrust into leading and architecting strategies that lead to long term victories and continued prosperity for Solidar and it’s Imagers.
All the Imager novels to date have been related in the first person from Rhenn’s point of view, which limits my knowledge to what he shares with me. I often feel as if I’m missing much of the story, because what he takes for granted as common knowledge, I do not, and what he focuses on may or may not be relevant to what I desire to know. So, I get frustrated and bored and miss a seemingly unimportant piece that later completes the puzzle.
The ending, or the resolution designed and personally carried out by Rhenn, disturbed me. Perhaps I’m naive and want our world, or any world I immerse myself in, to be more forgiving, more understanding. I firmly believe the only things you can change are yourself; you can’t change others no matter how much you want them to change. Rhenn believed change needed to occur now, and only extreme measures, including the use of deadly force, could meet his needs, which he equated with the continued prosperity of Solidar and by extension, imagers. Again, absolute power tempts to corrupt absolutely, for we learn that Rhenn is now the most powerful Imager alive.
This may be the last novel in the Imager Porfolio devoted solely to Rhenn. I got the feeling at the end that the focus of any future books would steer away from Master Rhennythl.
Both of these series will keep us occupied, discussing and debating for the rest of 2011. Come join in the fun. Don’t feel pressured to read and/or discuss both series … unless you desire to.
Dragon’s Egg by Robert L. Forward
