"Words of Radiance," or 1088 Pages of Awesome

I have finished Words of Radiance.  Dear Readers, it is fabulous.  I have done a very, very general review of the first book, The Way of Kings, here.  The story is so multifaceted and complex that I hesitate to give too much away.  Most of the joy of these books is not in the plot’s destination, but the proverbial journey.  
 

I am happy to report that many of the issues I had with The Way of Kings were assuaged in the second book.  Sanderson’s world-building remains strong, and since I had my understanding of his universe from reading The Way of Kings, I could jump right into Words of Radiance without the confusion and difficulty I had with the first book.  I’m still not crazy about his character names (I find them far too similar, and still conflate one character with another for a while), but I really liked being back in this storyline.

This second book of the series follows the plot structure of The Way of Kings, in that there are multiple narrators and an abundance of flashbacks.  While Kings has three primary narrators, the bulk of the book belongs to Kaladin, a slave with a storied past.  A solid chunk of the novel is a series of flashbacks to Kaladin’s earlier life, explaining just how he went from promising surgeon to gifted soldier to shunned slave. 

Keeping with this same framework, Words of Radiance continues the story of our three narrators, but the flashbacks belong to Shallan, the scholar we met in the first book.  She is the custodian of some deadly secrets, and we come to understand her through flashbacks to her troubled childhood.  In The Way of Kings, she was a weaker character, but in Words of Radiance she becomes much more complex and interesting.  A secret badass, in fact.  I look forward to how she’ll develop as the series continues.

While the greater part of the book is Shallan’s, we see the continuation of Kaladin and Dalinar’s stories from book one.  Dalinar is beginning to get some of the respect he deserves, although his rival Sadeas is still actively working against him.  The Dalinar storyline is finally political and military, rather than the “is he going mad” plotline that went on for waaaay too long in The Way of Kings.  He’s learned to acknowledge his visions, and even the king is beginning to listen to his advice.  

After Kaladin’s heroics at the end of the first book, he has been tasked with training the royal guard.  He’s coming to terms with his prejudice against the light-eyed ruling class of Alekhar, but he’s still remarkably boneheaded about some things.  There are a few times when the active reader kind of wants to kick him in the ass to get him going.  But in this book he gets more fight scenes than in The Way of Kings, and when Kaladin fights, it’s always impressive.  

And wow, can Sanderson write fight scenes!  There are a lot of things going on in this book, and a lot of them are interior, but when there is a fight YE GODS is there a fight.  There is a four-on-one honor duel that is incredible.  We’re talking reading-so-fast-your-eyes-hurt, goose-bumping, heart-pounding, occasionally-making-weird-grunty-noises reading.  

We also meet some new narrators, including Eshonai, a Parshendi warrior.  Through all of The Way of Kings, the Parshendi have been The Big Bad, the mysterious truce-breakers who murdered a king without cause.  Now, while we still do not understand why the Parshendi broke their truce with the Alethi, we begin to see some of their culture and their struggle.  I look forward to seeing how the Parshendi plotline develops as the books continue, although I found Eshonai’s “surprise twist” to be less than surprising.

  

Actually, a number of the plot twists weren’t all that twisty.  I have found that with Sanderson, I can see where the storyline is going, but it doesn’t really matter, because getting to the payoff is worth the ride.  I found this out in Elantris and The Rithmatist, and it holds true for Words of Radiance.  About a third of the way through the book, I can see where Sanderson is pointing the characters.  By the end of the novel, the characters are where you expected, but how they got there is entirely unexpected!  So while the broad strokes of the novel may be somewhat predictable, I did find myself constantly surprised by how Sanderson got me to the end.  That being said, I thought the ultimate magical payoff of Words of Radiance was a re-telling of the end of Elantris, and that was disappointing.  

But, as is typical of Sanderson, Words of Radiance ends with a slam-bang finish of epic proportions.  This characteristic breakneck tying up of plot threads is a Sanderson “thing,” so much that his fans have coined the phrase "Sanderson Avalanche."  The plotting and scheming and foreshadowing all come to a conclusion in the last hundred pages or so, and rather than feeling like a quick and dirty deus ex machina (à la Stephen King), Sanderson’s endings are supremely satisfying.  

A quick note, Gentle Readers: This “Sanderson Avalanche” means two things 

1) Once you begin the end of a Sanderson novel, you cannot put it down.  Can’t be done.  So snuggle in with snacks and blankies, because you’re not going anywhere for a while.

2) Don't finish a Sanderson book right before bed.  Although you will be emotionally exhausted and will have an epic book hangover, you will be too pumped up to sleep.  You need a walk around the block, not a nap.  Move your feet while your brain processes the vast amount of information the author just dumped on you.  Trust me.  It’s also good to have a friend on speed-dial who has just read the book so you can geek out together.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to take a turn around the block.  Anyone want to come with?

Boo, Part II: Pure

After finishing VanderMeer's Annihilation from the last post, I moved on to a book I was super excited to read.  It was the culmination of a trilogy I've been tracking for a while, ever since Julianna Baggott's spectacular debut followed me home.

Because it hits certain marks, it is difficult not to discuss the Pure trilogy in terms of The Hunger Games.  Young adult science fiction, female protagonist, dystopian near future, scary government overlords, hidden agendas and a love triangle.  But this is not The Hunger Games, girls and boys!  The first book promises a world actually a little darker and more twisted, which I love...

Clare Clark's NYT review sums up the world better than I can: Sometime in the unspecified future, a series of detonations has all but destroyed the world. A handpicked few were given refuge in the Dome, a high-tech bubble designed to withstand environmental disaster. Those left outside were not so fortunate. The intensity of the explosions not only devastated the landscape but changed forever those who survived it, fusing people with animals, with objects, with the earth. The lucky ones can still function. One young man has a slavering dog instead of a leg and has “learned how to walk with a quick, uneven limp.” Another has several birds embedded in his back, their wings moving under his shirt. Some types are common enough to have been given names: the Groupies, drunk and vicious, have been bound into one massive body, while the feral Beasts are half man, half animal. The Dusts are barely human at all, monsters who have bonded to rocks and rubble, and who drag themselves out of the ground like living land mines to devour any creature that strays too close.

Pure's world is beautifully realized and inherently cinematic.  City dwellers scuttle between roofless buildings, hiding in cellars and scrounging for existence.  The suburbs are now known as the Meltlands, named after the liquified remains of plastic jungle gyms.  The Deadlands are full of hidden monsters, some human, some not, and covered in a scree of rock and blasted sand.  Looming over each landscape is the Dome, a sealed biosphere protected from the ravages of ecological devastation and full of "Pures" horrified by the idea of contamination.  It will come as no surprise that the film rights have already been snapped up.  If The Hunger Games and Divergent keep making young-adult dystopia movies vast amounts of money at the box office, Pure should be produced soon.  

Until that moment: onward we read!  On the day of the explosions, our protagonist Pressia was a little girl holding a baby doll.  That doll's head is now fused to her fist.  She also lost her parents in the detonation, and now lives in the city with her grandfather.  When she turns 16 in a few days, she will be collected by the evil OSR and trained and indoctrinated as a killer.  Thankfully, Pressia's doll's head won't get in the way of her shooting ability; otherwise the OSR would use her for target practice.  She and her neighbors struggle for food, for survival, and for hope while they await the day when the Pures emerge from the Dome to save them all.

Just as we begin to believe that the people in the Dome have it easy, we meet Partridge, son of the Pure leader Willux.  Mourning the deaths of his mother and older brother, Partridge is estranged from his father and unhappy in the sterile environment of the Dome.  When he discovers that his mother might in fact be alive and living outside, he escapes the Dome to search for her and joins forces with Pressia.  Of course, the world goes to hell and everyone is trying to hijack these young people to serve their own nefarious ends, etc, etc.  

Pressia is the contemporary epitome of the "Strong Female Character" in that she gets things done.  I don't find this trope particularly engaging, as the SFC usually spends so much time being strong that she's lacking in actual character.  For contrast, see Buffy Summers and Katniss Everdeen, "Strong People Who Happen to be Female:" flawed, sometimes unlikeable, but human.  One of the reasons that The Hunger Games is so successful with readers is that identifiying with Katniss is easy.  Pressia and her friends are all straightforward and goodhearted, a little too cookie-cutter to ring true.

For me, the most compelling characters are those engaged in the struggle to grow as a person.  In these books, that character is a young man calling himself El Capitan.  His younger brother Helmud was riding piggyback on the day the bombs fell, and now Helmud is fused to El Capitan's back.  Helmud communicates only in repeated snatches of conversation which nevertheless carry a menacing echo of feral intelligence.  The two of them--their mere appearance, their interdependence, El Capitan's growing understanding of Helmud's separateness--are fascinating. I also really like Partridge's girlfriend Lyda.  Her character arc is one of the most impressive, as she transforms from a pampered trophy-wife-in-training to a badass warrior who prefers the starkness of the world outside the Dome, because it feels more real to her.

Speaking of trophy wives, the wife of the OSR commander is an adherent of Feminine Feminism, which is merely a reversion to pre-feminist gender repression.  The Commander's Wife wears a white full-body stocking, covering her from face to the tips of her toes, under her perfectly pressed house-dress.  She is expected to find her fulfillment in baking, housekeeping, and child-rearing.  There is little explanation of how feminism reverted to repression, but the moniker of the movement is evocative and fascinating.  This character is one of the most interesting for me, and I was hoping to see more of the Feminine Feminist movement.  Unfortunately, Baggott seemed to feel that these few brief scenes with the Commander's Wife were sufficient.  

Pure is a wonderful introduction to a new world where life and death overlap in unexpected ways. I was disappointed in Fuse, but figured it was caught in the dreaded second-book trap of being a bridge from Awesome Book #1 to End of Trilogy #3.  It continues the story of Pressia and Partridge, and spends significant time on the secondary characters, but somehow it lacks the heft of Pure.  It does attempt to be more of a character- than plot-driven book, but just doesn't make them complex enough. I firmly believe that you can have character-driven complexity in young adult fiction, so I'm just not sure why this book couldn't give me the oomph I was craving.  Plot-wise, Pressia and Partridge have parted ways, fighting against the Dome on different fronts.  Partridge returns to the Dome in order to attack the power structure from within, but finds himself trapped in his father's narrative, saddled with a fake fiancée and missing most of his rebellious memories.  Pressia and her team of rebels find a way to decode secret messages from the Dome, and they discover they need to steal an airplane (!) and fly to Ireland (!!).  Yep. Jumping the shark much, anyone?

When we return in book three, Burn, Pressia and her team are grounded in Ireland.  She must find her way back in order to continue the rebellion.  Meanwhile, Partridge takes charge of the Dome, but things are significantly more complex than he realizes.  While he sees circumstances in a very pragmatic, black-and-white way, his attempts to force the Dome residents to face their actions have disastrous consequences.  He becomes trapped in ever-more labyrinthine plans, and his childlike view of good and evil is pushed to its limit. 

As I mentioned above, it is difficult to discuss the Pure trilogy without referencing The Hunger Games.   Pure doesn't concern itself with why the world has become so segregated.  There is no underlying logic behind the separation of Haves and Have-Nots, just a physical embodiment of the 1-percenters.  We never know why the bombs were dropped--only that some megalomaniacs decided that the world needed to be cleansed.  There is no seeming need for justification, no desire to complicate the issues.  And that is where the Pure trilogy falls down.

By the trilogy's end, there is none of The Hunger Games' uncertainty, or stuggling with reality.  Katniss's mistakes as a leader, even her unwillingness to be a leader, is nowhere to be found in the heroes of Pure.  Pointing out the flaws in society is always easier than fixing them, and The Hunger Games struggles with that knowledge.  Burn lets the one character that has learned that lesson retreat from the world and commit suicide.  By the end of the trilogy, we have no idea how the world will be changed, but it must be for the better, since these stalwart young people are in charge.  Baggot ultimately makes the easy, safe choice, and undercuts the darkness that make the trilogy so arresting in the beginning.  Pure is a book that revels in its impurities, and by the time I finished Burn, it felt more like a fizzle.

But things are looking up!  I just today began Words of Radiance, the second book in the Brandon Sanderson "Stormlight Archive."  You can see my rave review of the first book, Way of Kings, here (also stories of George, my camel).  I court extreme geekery when I attempt to explain how good it feels to be back in this world!  I'm a whole four chapters in, and I am happily wallowing in Sanderson's universe.  My friend The Serial Bookseller explained to me how The Stormlight Archive fits in with Sanderson's other worlds, and how there are characters that pop from one book's world to the others.  Apparently it's going to take over ten books to make the whole thing happen.  The Serial Bookseller is a hardcore Sanderson-lover (Sandersonian?  Sandersonite? Sandersonist?) and is totally psyched to find out how it all hooks together.  I'm frankly not sure that I am willing to spend that much time looking for Easter eggs in the books.  [NOTA BENE: An Easter egg is not delivered by bunnies, Gentle Readers.  It is an inside joke or a hidden message found within books or movies.  It's like Al Hirschfeld's "Nina" signatures.  You can live without seeing them, but they're fun to play with.]  

Now I am counting the hours til I can snuggle under the covers with my book.  See you when I come up for air!

George the Camel and "The Way of Kings"

Hello again!

Vacation was AMAZING.  A week in Rome and a week in Morocco.  I got to ride a camel, and yes, I named him George.  It was awesome.  And then I had to come home to real life again.  

I have not been posting since I returned.  It is not because I have abandoned you, O Gentle Readers, but because re-adjusting to post-traveling reality has been more challenging than I originally thought. I have been caught up in:
1) Posting pictures online so everyone can see George & Seabiscuit.
2) Catching up at work (you would think I’d been gone a year).
3) Finishing the remodel of my bathroom (begun before vacation).  It’s bee-you-tee-ful!
4) Prepping for the holidays.  The parents left for a 2-week jaunt to see the grandparents and left me to finish decorating the homestead solo. 
5) A seriously-overloaded DVR.  Who knew 2 weeks of missed TV would take a month to catch up on?  Plus, lame Christmas movies!!
6) Going to see Enders’s Game & Catching Fire & "Day of the Doctor."
7) Finishing Way of Kings.  See below.

So let's talk about the important things.   Books, movies, and my camel George.  Yes, Gentle Readers, meeting cranky, grumpy George in the furry camel flesh has only made me love him more.  *snuggle*

I got very little reading done.  THAT, above all, is the hallmark of a good vacation!   I mostly ended up packing the books I had earmarked:

I think I'm taking Walter Moers' Alchemist's Apprentice,  Brandon Sanderson's Way of Kings (it's the size of a George R.R. Martin, and makes me feel secure), The Artist, the Philosopher & the Warrior (about da Vinci, Cesare Borgia, and Machiavelli), and Crowley's Little, Big. But that will all change tomorrow, when I pack my carry-on.

Alchemists's Apprentice didn't make the suitcase.  Nor did Little, Big.  A few last-minute substitutions were loser books that got left in various airports.  The Artist, the Philosopher & the Warrior was quite good nonfiction, and is now on Sister Dear's to-read pile.  The Way of Kings was the only one to come home with me.  Because it's SO. VERY. LONG. that I couldn't finish it in time.  And then I slept the whole way home, and carted it around in my purse for a month to finish it.

The Way of Kings is 1114 pages of "Really Very Good."  And then there are 139 pages of "Oh Dear God, That's Fabulous."  The ending is SUPERB.  From the final battle scene to the various ways in which the plot points come to semi-resolution (it is the first of a series, after all), the last hundred pages or so are really incredible.  Enough to make me want to re-read it.  But I shall simply wait until March of this year, when Words of Radiance comes out.  (Except I just read that it's going to be a 10-book series.  Oh, hell.)

But anyway.  "The Stormlight Archive" series begins with The Way of Kings.  There are three main narrators, with other incidental voices chiming in to mix it up.  
1) Kaladin: Trained surgeon, gifted soldier, disgraced slave.  
2) Shallan: Scholar with a desperate secret and a hidden talent or two.
3) Dalinar: Greatest warrior of his time, plagued by visions and longing for peace.
Naturally, all of them learn that the truths of today are rooted in the mythic past, which the audience discovers as the characters unearth it.  

As with all Sanderson, the world-building is excellent.  I did find the book overwhelming sometimes, however.  Oftentimes writers ground worlds with a few recognizable traits to give their readers a solid footing.  Sanderson seems to think that idea is for wimps: there is nothing recognizable here.  The peoples, while all humanoid, all have slightly unusual skin colorings and physical features, making them tricky to keep separate.  The weather follows unusual patterns and the flora and fauna are so unique as to make them difficult to picture.  None of these things are problems in and of themselves, but it takes quite a while for a reader to get her footing.  

Once that footing is found, however, Sanderson delivers.  The backstory and the myths in The Stormlight Archives are impressive.  It reminds me a bit of Tolkien (don't get your knickers in a twist, Gentle Readers!  Lemme 'splain!) in that you really want to read the myths and legends everyone talks about.  This series may need a Silmarillion.  I want to read the stories of the Knights Radiant.  I want to read the original MS of The Way of Kings.  I want, I want. 

With tomes this large and complex, I like a quick reference in the back of the book to remind me of which character belongs to which plot thread.  Or at least to which ethnicity they belong.  The one appendix in the back of the book was largely unhelpful, and the map in the front was more decorative than useful.  There were some illustrations in front of the chapters which were wonderful, however.  These excerpts from scholar Shallan's notebooks give great insights into the world Sanderson builds, and include the character's sketches, notes, and questions.  They give real texture to the oddball plants and animals that Sanderson has spent so much time including in his world.  Unfortunately, the sketches sometimes appear hundreds of pages after the reader has first encountered mention of a particular plant or animal.  But the idea is fabulous.  More illustrations, please! 

As much as I liked it (and I did, very much), my main issue is the language:
1) Most of the world's languages, names, etc, sound as if they are from the same linguistic roots, even if they are on opposite sides of the world.  I know this sounds beyond geeky, but it's helpful if one race's names don't sound just like another's.  It's confusing.
2) Sanderson falls into the common mistake of adding extra syllables or punctuation to make words "exotic."  You can make unusual words without adding apostrophes and 27 syllables to everything...  (Sorry.  Personal bugbear from early authorship crisis.)

But it's pretty awesome, and I'm willing to forgive him a few hiccups here and there.  Sanderson is a great builder of new worlds, and if that means that I need some time to sink into his new places, I'm willing to give him some time.  Besides, when Words of Radiance rolls out, I'll still mostly remember how it all works... and then for the third book--in three years--it will be time to re-read the whole shebang!

Alternate Archipelago America: Naomi

I have been ill with a non-specific ickiness for almost a week now.  It’s perhaps an outgrowth of my Benign Positional Vertigo, which sounds more fun than it is.  My mother, wonderful being, thinks it may be because I’ve been exercising too much.  Best.  Excuse. Ever!

Essentially, this means that I can’t move much.  You would be AMAZED at the amount of reading I have gotten done.  If I weren’t feeling nonspecifically icky, I would be quite pleased.  As it is, I really, really want to be able to stand up without feeling like I’m falling down. 

But the reading.  O the reading.  Since I can’t move, and reading doesn’t make me dizzy, it’s been a week of me, my bed, and whatever is on my bedside table.  The Dante I’ve been reading, though, has remained untouched this week.  I can’t handle dizziness and the fires of hell: it’s all too much.  The review of the GENIUS translation I’m reading will just have to wait. 

Instead, I give you the review of the GENIUS YA novel I finished.  In a day.  Because I can’t move.   And, you know, it’s really good.

My friend and fellow-blogger, The Serial Bookseller, recommended a new book by Brandon Sanderson, the fantasy wordsmith tapped to finish Robert Jordan’s Wheel of Time Series.  For me, Sanderson is hit or miss.  Mistborn: Awesome.  The rest of the Mistborn series: Hugely boring.  Elantris: Amazing.  Warbreaker: YAWN.  As for Sanderson’s ability to finish The Wheel of Time series, I stopped reading roundabout Book 7 (A Crown of Swords), when Jordan had been unable to pique my interest since Book 4 (The Shadow Rising).  But I digress.  The Serial Bookseller and I have this argument often.  He adores Sanderson.

In this case, he was right.  Yep.  I said it.  I said it out loud and in print: The Serial Bookseller was right.  (This will never happen again.) 

The Rithmatist is awesome.    It takes place in Alternate Archipelago America (henceforth known as AAA).   We don’t know why it’s an archipelago; there is no backstory; it just, geologically, is.  Each of our states is an independent island in AAA, so there’s a fascinating separatist atmosphere, which fits the vaguely Victorian vibe of the book as a whole.  And no, it’s not steampunk; it’s Victorian AAA fantasy.  To underline this separatist theme, we find out that all of Europe is under the rule of an Asian dynasty, and the Aztek Empire is still going strong.  Our little AAA is understandably shy of banding together, and the separatist politics do a nice job of dovetailing with the larger plot. 

On the central AAA isle of Nebrask exists a pernicious magical threat: wild chalklings, two-dimensional monsters (yep, made of chalk) that eat people alive.  They attack in swarms and munch on eyeballs and skin and things; they’re quite icky.  The can be held off by acid attacks (to dissolve the chalk), but they greatest defense against them is the, you guessed it, Gentle Readers, Rithmatists.  These Rithmatists are geometry-savvy magic-wielders who can draw their own chalklings and imbue them with life.  Then the good chalklings battle the bad ones.  Obviously. 

Rithmatists must be trained.  And Joel, our protagonist, is a scholarship student at an academy that trains Rithmatists, although he himself has no power.  He is, however, fascinated by Rithmancy, as was his father (a chalk-maker) before him.  Joel manages to talk his way into a summer internship with recently-humbled Professor Fitch, where he befriends an untalented Rithmatist named Melody.  The three of them are tasked with solving a string of puzzling disappearances.  Then magic and plot and stuff happens.  Read it yourself.     

Each chapter is preceded by a short lesson on Rithmatics, including why the geometry of certain defenses work, etc.  Now, Gentle Readers, I detest geometry with every fiber of my being, but as soon as it’s magical, somehow it becomes more interesting.  I almost cared about vectors while I was reading this book.  Almost. 

This book is an easy read.  It is not particularly challenging in format, language, or characterization.  It’s also written for 12-year-olds, so I allow some leeway.  It is, however, beautifully grounded.  The organization of the world, the history, and the science of the Rithmatic magic are really impressive.  This is the beginning of a series, and I am looking forward to the sequels. 

There were also more surprises than I expected.  One subplot did not resolve itself at all in the way I expected.  The villain is red-herringed like mad, and even once I thought I had it figured out, I was wrong.  Only in fiction, Gentle Readers, do I enjoy being wrong.  And Sanderson got me good.  *high five* 

I can see this series becoming quite popular if only the word gets out, and people refrain from comparing it to Harry Potter.  Yes, it’s magic; yes it’s a boarding school; yes, there’s a mean teacher who hates our protagonist.  That is where the comparison ends.  Do not pick up this book expecting Harry Potter.  But please do, Gentle Readers, pick up this book.  You’ll be glad you did, and for five minutes, you might even care about geometry. 

Maybe.

And right now you can order it in hardcover for $12.83.  Ye Gods, just buy it!