I am half-way through Sanderson's Mistborn: The Final Empire. I like it a great deal more than I thought I would, and quite a bit more than the The Way of Kings (which, I am also halfway through).
Sanderson's magic systems have been lauded as amazing and unique. They are definitely unique. However, I don't think they are amazing.


Sanderson's first law states: Sanderson’s First Law of Magics: An author’s ability to solve conflict with magic is DIRECTLY PROPORTIONAL to how ...well the reader understands said magic.

That is all well and good. A well defined magic system allows the author to used the known variable of magic in plausibly dramatic ways and prevent the deus ex machina (deus ex magica?) that Erikson has been accused of in his Malazan Book of the Fallen.


However, it seems that the readers understanding of said magic system is INVERSELY PROPORTIONAL to the mythic atmospheric qualities said magic can generate. In works with less defined magic systems, where the mysterious nature of magic is preserved, whether epic such as Lord of the Rings, or heroic/sword and sorcery such as Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser, a greater sense of wonder and the numinous is preserved. The resolution of a mystery is rarely as gratifying as sense of mystery. The preservation of mystery, I feel, leads to a world of greater depths, where unknown energies eddy in shady, unexplored parts of the world, and fey and infernal beings gambol in liminal thresholds.


When everything is carefully defined for the reader it feels too much like an rpg. Everything has it's little niche in a carefully catalogued encyclopedia that can be indexed. It is an odd blend of nihilistic fantastica or fantastic scientism.


This doesn't mean that a reader cannot find a sense of wonder or escapism in the works, rather it is diminished by degrees of definition.

Faust and thoughts on Fantasy

I am currently listening to an Audio version of Faust. Audiobooks comprise a good two thirds of my 'reading' because I have very little to occupy my mind at work. I occasionally have to discern between ambiguous white minerals with the aid of acid or steel pick, determine the magnitude of a fault, or decide if the green clay is black enough to be black clay or if the black clay is a seam or veinlet, but by-and-large my work has become little more than rote drudgery. Well...ok worm burrows and stylolites are still pretty cool.

There is something primal in the story of Faust that I think all knowledge/information workers can identify with. Many of us get into the work, whether a science field or otherwise, because we have a desire to explore the mysteries, and not just the mysteries of spreadsheets. That exploration changes you. Often for the better, but not always. The abyss stares back, doubts gather like shadows around a lone candle flame. Unlike Faust most of us come to realize that the ambition of knowing everything is not only impossible, but dangerous. Beyond knowledge workers Man has always been curious about what is really real. And in this reality each person looks for an increase in happiness in the future and an abatement, if not extinction, of the pervading angst that results from uncertainty.

The pessimist author divines apocalyptic visions of near future dystopias of every sort from 1984 to the Maze Runner, whereas the optimist prognosticates technological utopias of varying degrees, all of which are suspicious to the realist who sees the future as possessing the same variegated strata as today however shaped by advances in our understanding. Individuals, and societies change, but human nature does not. You can lead a man to reason, but you can not force him be reasonable.

 
Faust is a lovely admixture of the story of Job and the story of Icarus. It is a classic because it cuts to the heart of the conflict between human desire and rationality. This primal temptation is frequently found in classics and fairy tales, but lost on most modern fantasy. Instead of this, and other inner conflicts, we are often served up derivative archetypes treading the same old Campbellian monomyth. Sure the monomyth applies to Faust, but that's not the point. Changing the clothes on a puppet won't bring it to life. Nor will convoluted magic systems, flawed characters, or crisis for the sake of crisis. Sure all those things can help, but they don't replace desire, hubris, a sense of destiny (or self-loathing), or a sense of overcoming for breathing life into a story.

If we look at some of the great characters of fantasy, the ones that aren't just stand ins for the reader to identify with (Frodo, Harry Potter), we see desires and aversions that drives them to irrational acts. This leads to a crisis wherein they either overcome and triumph or submit and suffer tragedy, in the really great stories they experience both. This irrational desire is often personified as some Other, whether Mephistopheles, the One Ring, the Man with Thistledown Hair etc. Its deeply satisfying, in a primal way, when the hero overcomes the Other (the dark one), because it allows us to watch the drama in an almost clinical manner. We can identify with the hero as he overcomes the enemy without having to identify as the dark one ourselves.


Sometimes, and more commonly of late, we find that our heroes are not so pure and the dark one isn't so dark. They are, the both of them, relatable and disturbing. This leads to a moving resolution as the tension of the climax abates. We are relieved, but saddened. This is often the case with heroic fantasy, sword and sorcery, and grimdark. I find this to be less satisfying in the primitive manner of high fantasy except to the degree that the characters move closer to the extremes of the good/evil scale. In such works the writer's prose needs to be very sharp to carry the story. Of course, there are plenty of people who enjoy violence and grit for the sake of violence.


In soap operas such as A Song of Ice and Fire we find characters that range from the realistic to ridiculous. This panoply of personality types, sprinkled with just enough dragons and magic to make it fantasy (and therefore allow for a distancing veil), coupled with keen prose, is, what I suspect, makes the story so gratifying to such a broad range of people. But, it is just a Soap Opera. There are no grand ideals, no deep revelations, no cracking of the marrow of the human experience, which is another reason it is popular entertainment.


  In truly atrocious works of fantasy, the characters are merely caricatures that trade on the familiarity of their derivations. So powerful is the sense of the familiar that people will turn to them again and again no matter how bad, no matter how repetitive the story becomes (Drizzt Do' Urden). Faust is a fantasy of high and low order. It explores, like any epic fantasy, the various levels of society. It does so with an eye to human nature that most, but not all fantasy, lacks.

The Black Company by Glen Cook
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

The Black Company is heralded as a dark and gritty work--Glen cook has been called the grandfather (father maybe?) of Grimdark—and it is definitely gritty and at times dark. Glen also writes detective fiction and though I have not read any of his detective fiction there are definitely elements of the hardboiled detective novel in his work.
There is a certain joy at discovering the sources of ideas for later authors. Steven Erikson list’s Glen Cook as a major influence on his Malazan Book of the Fallen. The influences range from the gritty military fantasy atmosphere to naming conventions for soldiers and even to the possible character seed of Quick Ben in the taken Soulcatcher.
There is an abundance of military action, intrigue, magic great and small, and character’s with varying degrees of development. I enjoyed the first installment very much and will be purchasing the Tor omnibus editions as a result.


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The Cobra's Lair: A Black Brothers' Saga Tale by M.G. Floyd
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

This is a great story with all of the classic trappings of the sword & sorcery genre. The setting and characters are well developed for a short story. The action is face paced, well done, and driven by character and story; reminiscent of the vibrancy of Howard and Leiber.

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Hyperion by Dan Simmons
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Dan Simmon's sci-fi masterpiece is a complicated work.

Using a frame story ala the Decameron and the Canterbury Tales it recounts the individual tales of six of seven pilgrims journeying to the Time Tombs on the eponymous world of Hyperion. Hyperion is a world within the world-web of the Hegemony (a sort of galactice empire), hungered after by the non-hegemony Ousters, and home to the legendary Shrike, a monster/god around which a cult has formed. On the eve of a looming intergalactic war seven pilgrims make their way to the Time Tombs to make a request of the Shrike.

Each of the pilgrims tales is told in a different style. Dan Simmons effectively mixes horror, sci-fi, detective, romance, and thriller genres.

Unlike many classics of the sci-fi genre the characterization is as deep as the ideas are grandiose. I found the tale of the scholar, Sol Weintraub, particularly moving, but also enjoyed General Kassad's military sci-fi story, and the poet's tale. Simmon's attempt at a hardboiled detective story comes off a bit lame, though still enjoyable, and manages to nearly capture the genre's attitude, if not atmosphere, in a way that is beyond Jim Butcher.

Six short stories set in a frame story is a real gamble. A gamble, in this case, that pays off more often than not. The writing varies from terrific to tedious. The skill of each tale also varies, which makes me wonder whether the author's skill improved as he wrote and the stories were cobbled together in a different order than they were written, or more likely, his skill at each genre was heterogenous. The book references literary works, and seems to rather smugly asserts its own literariness, without actually being literary. This coupled with the less than anti-climatic ending of the frame story resulted in a lower rating than some of the individual stories deserve.

I started reading Keat's poetry as a result of reading this book, but I am not sure if I'll read novel's sequel.

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Emperor of Thorns by Mark Lawrence
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Finishing a good book is always a pleasure, but finishing a great series is bittersweet.
There is a grieving process even when you know a character is in a better place. You change as you journey with a character, you become wiser, and you let go.

Emperor of Thorns is a good, borderline great book, that finishes a series that is an achievement for fantasy. Mark Lawrence is one of the most skilled writers of fantasy today. He is a master craftsman of dark dreams in a field of stumbling journeyman.

The Emperor of Thorns begins slow, but builds inexorable momentum. The pages turn faster as Jorg hurtles toward the destiny you knew was coming since Prince of Thorns. Suspicions are confirmed and answers beg more questions. By the time you figure out who the Dead King is you know how the book is going to end...but you're wrong.

Jorg, you magnificent bastard, I am going to miss you. I am glad you're gone.

The relief of removing a thorn is so pleasurable, that it is almost worth the pain. Jorg is the prick you didn't know you were missing.

Now onto Prince of Fools!



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