As a fan of fantasy books, I have grown accustomed to the slower pace, expansive timelines, and numerous characters that define the great works in this genre. Think G.R.R Martin’s multi-volume A Song of Ice and Fire series, which I have read in full and in the right order. Think of the 20+ volume Sword of Truth series by Terry Goodkind, of which I have managed only three—starting somewhere in the middle. Or the mind-numbingly expansive Malazan Book of the Fallen series by Steven Erikson, which I am reading in chronological order but have only reached book four of the 25+ instalments.
A common thread in all these is the sheer expanse of the
universe—the people, lands, and magical systems. They can be enchanting,
transporting you to different worlds, complete with maps and side stories to
disappear into. But they can also be overwhelming, just to keep pace with the
scale and complexity. The Malazan series in particular is so vast and
intricate that it can be difficult to get through—and I mean that in a good
way. Given my interest in both fiction and non-fiction, committing to such
sprawling series can limit the variety of my reading life.
Enter the likes of Patrick Rothfuss’s Kingkiller
Chronicle and Joe Abercrombie’s First Law trilogy—both great fantasy
series, but relatively faster-paced and, in subtle ways, less demanding on
one’s reading cadence.
Abercrombie’s The Blade Itself is a fine example of
this. I had been meaning to get to it for at least two years since it was
recommended by someone with a good eye for epic fantasy, and I am glad I
finally did.
The worldbuilding is both brisk and evocative. The familiar
fantasy tropes are here—the vain and prickly hero, the noble brute, the wise wizard,
the tragic mentor, the cheeky dame in distress and the evil forces from beyond
the borders and within. There is magic that is taboo, historical figures
assembling a fellowship, and wars and beasts at the periphery. But what I
especially enjoyed was that the politics and motivations felt very
contemporary. Perhaps it is Abercrombie’s language, but unlike Malazan,
which feels truly ancient, the characters in The Blade Itself often seem
modern. The sense of the ancient is there, but the events feel distinctly of
our time.
It is a fine balance to strike. Lean too modern and it
starts to feel like sci-fi with magic—a tone better suited to young adult
vampire dramas on TV.
One example, without spoilers: the book features merchant
guilds that are ruthless capitalist empires, sanctioned by the King. Over time,
they have grown in wealth and influence, overtaking the old-money aristocrats.
This sets the stage for a different kind of “eat-the-rich” revolution—not from
the poor masses, but from the royal and erstwhile nobility. Many fantasy novels
I have read have powerful merchants, usually individuals, but I cannot recall
another that plays with this almost post-capitalist dynamic. For that alone,
the book deserves credit.
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