In the third instalment of Joe Ducie’s Reminiscent Exile series,
readers find a high current of fast-paced action, clever dialogue and
fantastic world (multiverse) building. Knight Fall stands on its own as an entertaining, but all too quick, read and a fine continuation of the overall series.
The narrative uses various in-story tropes to weave together the past
and present, from visions and flashbacks to magical means. The
significance of the past, and history as a whole, works as a prominent
motif in the story, massively influencing the plot. This novel is full
of surprises and beautifully constructed scenes. The trick, and
challenge, is to read it slowly, to pace yourself, because the urge to
finish it in one setting is all-too-compelling.
Declan Hale,
our brooding protagonist, returns in all his one-eyed splendour. His
actions throughout the novel demonstrate how utterly formidable he is,
why people are right to fear him, and the devastating consequences that
hinge on his every action. Despite displaying more raw, brute force in
the scenes in Voraskel than in the previous two novels, most of the
confrontations work like puzzle pieces, solved by a clever dose of wit
and ingenuity rather than hammering away with Will. I think this is the
best approach that Ducie could have taken with his fight scenes. An epic
battle between two colossal forces, while memorable and fantastic, can
only be done so many times; and should probably only be reserved for the
most significant moments.
Emily Grace, the immortal queen,
returns in this novel, not so much a villain but as a companion to our
protagonist. Emily is still ruthless and cold and calculating, but
there’s a certain charm to her every action, of quality of character
that can only described as “graceful.” I quite liked Emily Grace as a
villain, or at least as an antihero. It was amusing to find that she had
such chemistry with Declan despite the fact that she was the queen of
the faction that the hero fought and killed and shed blood to defeat.
Her scenes with Declan in the first two books showed promise of being a
great recurring villain with the kind of cunning, manipulative force
that trumps brute strength.
In a previous review, I said that the Reminiscence Exile is, at its heart, a romance story. With Knight Fall,
that assessment remains unchanged. Declan will always carry the women
he loved with him, as intangible as the merry band of literary ghosts in
his bookstore. His reminiscences, his longing, his nostalgia are all a
significant aspect of his makeup, as real as the idea of love lost, of
pain endured, sacrifices rendered, and guilt everlasting.
Speaking of the Everlasting, we find out more about them than ever have
before. We learn a childhood song sung in fear of them, we learn how
many there are and what their qualities entail. Ducie creates these
cosmic entities, great and powerful gods and goddesses, and he pits our
single, lonely, drunken hero against them. At least it promises to be an
amusing ride.
There are a couple things that I didn’t like about Knight Fall. One, there was not enough Annie Brie. Her characterization was one of the highlights in Broken Quill,
one of its goddamn strengths, and her fleeting appearances here are
notable. Two, in some of the battle scenes, Declan came off too
all-powerful. Not to say that Declan’s weaknesses didn’t shine through
with brilliance. This isn’t titled Knight Fall for nothing.
Knight Fall is a great installment to an already
fantastic series. Ducie has carved a name for himself as a talented
writer able to seamlessly blend the mythic with the urban, the ordinary
with extraordinary and the mundane with the marvellous. I hope he keeps
writing, the longer works the better.
Wednesday, 26 February 2014
Book Review: Godspeed: A Kurt Cobain Graphic Novel by Barnaby Legg and Jim McCarthy
I’ve been a Nirvana fan for about five, maybe six years. I was born
in 1992 but I can’t pretend I identify with the alternative metal,
grunge, post-grunge movement. I can barely call myself a Nineties kid at
all when it comes to cultural identification. But it doesn’t mean I
didn’t appreciate Cobain in my own way. And while I know some details
about his life and tragic death, I’m not clumsy or naïve enough to
interpret a comic book expression of his journey as his Word-of-God
biography.
Let’s get it right off the bat that I don’t believe this graphic novel is completely true. But it’s a subjective artistic interpretation of another’s man life and the perspective it offers is still valuable. Legg and McCarthy are talented writers. They capture the burgeoning confusion and displacement of a preadolescent Kurt, the angst and depression of a teenage Cobain, and the chaos and pandemonium of the rock star he eventually becomes. Flameboy’s artwork here is gritty and messy, full of hard lines and sharp colors, bringing out something essentially Nineties in flavor and tone.
There is a scene in the novel that I found rather touching. It was where he had achieved everything he had ever dreamed of in his youth, where his accomplishments had become a reality, and he at last decided to let go of this dream, and let others follow. It’s a heartbreaking scene that doesn’t need melodrama or painstaking detail to be succinctly true. This novel can be true without being accurate.
Let’s get it right off the bat that I don’t believe this graphic novel is completely true. But it’s a subjective artistic interpretation of another’s man life and the perspective it offers is still valuable. Legg and McCarthy are talented writers. They capture the burgeoning confusion and displacement of a preadolescent Kurt, the angst and depression of a teenage Cobain, and the chaos and pandemonium of the rock star he eventually becomes. Flameboy’s artwork here is gritty and messy, full of hard lines and sharp colors, bringing out something essentially Nineties in flavor and tone.
There is a scene in the novel that I found rather touching. It was where he had achieved everything he had ever dreamed of in his youth, where his accomplishments had become a reality, and he at last decided to let go of this dream, and let others follow. It’s a heartbreaking scene that doesn’t need melodrama or painstaking detail to be succinctly true. This novel can be true without being accurate.
Book Review: Foundation and Empire by Isaac Asimov
The second installment in Asimov’s classic trilogy is Foundation and Empire.
The people of the Foundation face their greatest threat yet as Bel
Riose, charismatic and brilliant general of the Empire wages a bloody
war of conquest. At this time the Foundation’s influence has
strengthened in the Periphery while the Empire wanes and decays. Rumors
of the Foundation’s ‘magicians’ spread throughout the remnants of the
old Empire. General Riose is thirsty for battle and glory. Knowing his
prospects for conquest are poor throughout the galaxy, he turns his eyes
towards the rumors of the Foundation and seeks to spark a war that will
turn him into a legend.
Asimov takes the first half of the novel to build the atmosphere of assurance and invincibility that underlies the people of the Foundation. Hari Seldon’s psychohistoric predictions have gained religious faith and dogmatic certainty. Nothing, they believe, can threaten them now. But as Riose marches from victory to victory, the confidence is slowly chipped away. Individual actions lead nowhere. Time is slipping and it seems as though Seldon’s plans might be thwarted. Asimov establishes the nigh-inevitability of Seldon’s predictions, under normal circumstances, when the psychohistoric trends of the past generations turn against Bel Riose in a way that no heroic undertaking by any mere individual could have.
The first half of this book was enjoyable, pact with intellect and suspense and delightful scenes of action. It was a great way for Asimov to open this chapter in the saga of the Foundation, but it pales in comparison to the second act, where Asimov moves out of our comfort zone into less hospitable territory.
The second story is an inversion of everything we have been taught to expect. The antagonist is a mutant called the Mule who exhibits immense and mysterious powers that he uses in his aims to build his own empire. To accomplish such a feat, he wants, of course, the Foundation. Psychohistory predicts the behaviour and patterns of millions and billions of ordinary humans. The theme underpinning the previous Foundation stories concerns the unbeatable course of history and patterns over the actions of any one man. The rise of the Mule, however, who isn’t an ordinary human, derails Seldon’s plan with alarming swiftness.
Isaac Asimov crafts an intriguing novel and breaks patterns with his previous ventures into the Foundation universe. While I was not as enthralled overall by this episode as I was of Foundation, Asimov sets the stage for a turning point in his narrative, one full of potential and uncertainty. The story of the Mule is easily the most captivating of both the two stories in Foundation and Empire and the first novel.
Asimov takes the first half of the novel to build the atmosphere of assurance and invincibility that underlies the people of the Foundation. Hari Seldon’s psychohistoric predictions have gained religious faith and dogmatic certainty. Nothing, they believe, can threaten them now. But as Riose marches from victory to victory, the confidence is slowly chipped away. Individual actions lead nowhere. Time is slipping and it seems as though Seldon’s plans might be thwarted. Asimov establishes the nigh-inevitability of Seldon’s predictions, under normal circumstances, when the psychohistoric trends of the past generations turn against Bel Riose in a way that no heroic undertaking by any mere individual could have.
The first half of this book was enjoyable, pact with intellect and suspense and delightful scenes of action. It was a great way for Asimov to open this chapter in the saga of the Foundation, but it pales in comparison to the second act, where Asimov moves out of our comfort zone into less hospitable territory.
The second story is an inversion of everything we have been taught to expect. The antagonist is a mutant called the Mule who exhibits immense and mysterious powers that he uses in his aims to build his own empire. To accomplish such a feat, he wants, of course, the Foundation. Psychohistory predicts the behaviour and patterns of millions and billions of ordinary humans. The theme underpinning the previous Foundation stories concerns the unbeatable course of history and patterns over the actions of any one man. The rise of the Mule, however, who isn’t an ordinary human, derails Seldon’s plan with alarming swiftness.
Isaac Asimov crafts an intriguing novel and breaks patterns with his previous ventures into the Foundation universe. While I was not as enthralled overall by this episode as I was of Foundation, Asimov sets the stage for a turning point in his narrative, one full of potential and uncertainty. The story of the Mule is easily the most captivating of both the two stories in Foundation and Empire and the first novel.
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