Brandon Sanderson - The Alloy of Law

"Oh, I do want to change the city," she said, growing eager. "Though I feel that tracking down every criminal and punching holes in them with pieces of metal moving at high speeds is a terribly inefficient way to do it."

"Sure can be fun though." (p. 157)

Brandon Sanderson is, without a doubt, one of the most important names in fantasy today, and a large part of why that is can be seen in the story of The Alloy of Law's writing. In the midst of completing the gargantuan Wheel of Time series, Sanderson somehow managed to rewrite and release The Way of Kings, the first volume of his own ten part epic. Then, taking a break from both projects just before leaping into the Wheel's final volume, Sanderson managed to create this 325 page return to the Mistborn world, a book set between the already released (and thoroughly enjoyable) first trilogy and the projected second, one that rather stretches the meaning of the term side project to the breaking point. Simply put, Sanderson is a writing machine, pumping out words and works at a pace far beyond almost any of the genre's other authors. The actual material on offer here, however, is rather disappointing when compared to both the man's ascendant (perhaps by now ascended) reputation and the strength of the Mistborn setting's prior books.

Sanderson has always been a master of setting, a creator of unique and in-depth magic systems and adept at showing that magic's effect on his worlds. Here, of course, he's not starting from scratch but rather returning to the world of the Mistborn series, now 300 years after the literally world-shattering and –shaping finale of The Hero of Ages, where we witnessed one character's genuine apotheosis. In the time since, society's managed to rebuild itself, and the already inventive fantasy landscape's been forever altered by the introduction of gunpowder, a, needless to say, interesting mix with Sanderson's metal-based magic system of alomancy. To say that I was interested to see the results of all this, particularly how the world would be altered by an objectively extant God of only a few centuries remove, would be an understatement.

The first part, the interplay between gunplay and alomancy, lives up to expectations. The combinations between alomancy, feruchemy (a variant magic system, one of three along with alomancy, from the first trilogy), and weaponry are fascinating, cinematic, and often extremely clever. The idea of twinborn – that is to say, those with both alomantic and feruchemical powers – multiples the various powers a Misting could have well beyond easy comprehension, but that's never an issue in the story, where, after a few early expositions, Sanderson keeps a good balance between understanding and surprises.

It all does, however, raise a question. Our protagonist, lawkeeper turned lord Waxillium or Wax, and his friend Wayne at one point awe the city's numerous but useless constabulary by decimating an entire criminal gang, thirty strong, by themselves. The reader can certainly understand their awe, and can maybe even feel it themselves after the action scene they've just witnessed, but it still raises the question why the constabulary doesn't have such warriors on its own staff, why they aren't well used to this thing and ready to take advantage of it for their own ends and stop it when it's used against them. We do, of course, hear various token protests that Mistings are rare and Twinborn rarer, but such things have little effect when almost the entirety of the cast is the former or (more commonly) the latter and when the only people overawed by such things are the faceless, and sometimes nameless, criminals that get in the way and the constables powerless to stop them.

Then there's the other issue that I was so keen to see, the handling of religion and divinity in a world with such an interesting and immediate history. The results are rather more than lackluster. In the whole of the novel, our newly minted God directly acts but once, and even then it's done in the vaguest and least useful possible way, muttering all along the so-familiar excuses for irrelevancy like: I must be careful playing favorites. […] It upsets the balance (p. 286) and The point is Harmony, creating a way for as many as possible to make their own choices. (ibid) You could, of course, argue that I and this God simply have different ideas of what's appropriate, but the idea of God not taking sides and being a force of just balance meets a bad logical stumbling block when one considers that the small help it does offer Wax is just as disruptive to all this, just as destroying of man's ability to makes its "own choices" (ibid), as a genuinely useful bit of intervention, and, besides, why does a god concerned more for balance than man's definitions of right or wrong care at all about these criminals?

The effects of religion on society prove no more interesting. Here we don't even have the original trilogy's Sazed and his surprisingly deep and well-done questioning of faith. Instead, things seem to have settled into a kind of polite religious toleration that is, to me, rather hard to swallow in dual light of the facts that this is debatably three hundred years into the (recorded) history of the civilization and that, more importantly, that history's beginning was started by an objectively present God who laid out many of the specifics of his will.

But enough about my personal thematic interests; I can't smash Sanderson too badly for not sharing them. The novel's main conflict is between Waxillium, a nobleman who left to go out to the Roughs and enforce the laws there who's now returned to rule his ancestral house, and Miles, a former lawkeeper who's become convinced that he wasn't doing good but was, as he says to Wax, a hound, kept in line with false promises and stern orders. […] You worked every day to fix the world, Wax. You tried to end the pain, the violence, the robberies. It never worked. The more men you put down, the more troubles arose. (p. 212) Miles is done fighting the symptoms. He's turned his sites on those who've oppressed the Roughs for so long, on the rich men of the city. He's doing, as he says, what nobody else will. You stand up for the downtrodden, make things better, stop the criminals. Well, I've just decided to set my sights on a more powerful brand of criminal. (p. 213) All of this could be an interesting conflict. Wax admits that he sees some truth in Miles' view and even goes so far as to admit that, in the more tumultuous (and now legendary) time of the first trilogy, Miles would have been a hero. But Wax insists that things have changed, and he stands up to the destruction and upheaval that Miles causes and represents.

Their ideological struggle is crippled by the fact that, much as it pains me to say it of a Sanderson book, the world is a shady, shadowy thing that's never properly understood. Not only do we never truly see the supposedly so-oppressed Roughs with our own eyes outside of a prologue rather preoccupied with the gunfight at its heart, we never come to see the city. Wax says that its nobility is no longer as oppressive, but is that true? We never see either way, never know more of the noble life than a few half-glimpsed parties and balls, and we see nothing at all of the lower classes. The few halfhearted attempts to show the problems with its bureaucracy – like Wayne's statement that the constables spend their time walking about the city, picking on respectable folk (p. 142) – go unsupported and unexplored.

Nowhere is this lack of depth and substance more evident than in the novel's opening, during the brief period where Waxillium thinks maybe he'd best just be a nobleman and leave off all that dashing about in the night. I think most genre fans are used to these never carried out surrenders of profession by now, but it's rare that I see one quite so skimpy as this. We're told how important his duties as a lord are, but we never see what those duties might be. There is, of course, the obligatory mention that these months of "reports, ledges, dinner parties, and business deals" place "among the hardest he'd ever lived," (p. 74) but, without ever really seeing the difficulty, there's not much feeling behind or evoked by the statement. And when we hear the old standby that "Shooting people would be too charitable for you city folks," (p. 78) it's hard to not be perplexed when, so far, the most dastardly thing a city dweller's done is a snub with wedding invitations. Forgive me if I'm not reaching for my handgun, Wax.

The novel's mystery element, one of the main things differentiating it from Sanderson's other work, feels similarly shallow. Wax has a reputation for this kind of thing, and the scene with him furiously delving into the allomantic makeup of the enemy's aluminum is quite well done. But what we see of his actual deductions falls well short of that standard. Upon discovering a cigar box in their enemy's lair, Wayne says: This is just the sort of thing [Wax] likes. It'll probably lead him to some grand theory about how our boss smokes cigars, and that'll somehow let him pick the guy out of a crowd. (p. 181) From the cigar box to his smoking habits? Incredible detective work! It's only at the end that his probing reaches deeper, and we cut out right as the case pops open to reveal something far larger behind it and everything finally grows interesting.

Underscoring all of this is Sanderson's prose. It's not bad, but it's almost never good, the very essence of workman like throughout, each sentence conveying what information it needs to before departing without leaving much of an impression. That is, slightly, relieved by Sanderson's use of in-world slang like "true as titanium" (p. 175) or dismissing someone as a "bad alloy," (p. 79) something many fantasy authors try but few succeed at (though, of course, there is the occasional misstep here, like the curse Harmony's forearms! (p. 77)). An always controversial aspect of Sanderson's writing's been his humor and wit, which is thankfully both toned down and more effective here than it was in The Way of Kings. At one point, Waxillium remarks on another character's speed in reaching conclusions that took him all night to grasp. When she responds: "I had some modest help from you," he says that: "It might be said that I had modest help from myself, technically." (p. 137)

The Alloy of Law is a fast paced, fun book with some cool ideas and some well done fight scenes. But it's also a light book that falls far short of exemplary. Sanderson had some very cool ideas going in, but almost none of them reach their potential, or even fall anywhere near it. The world building's far sketchier than it is in any of the author's other works, and even the pure action/adventure elements are more ho hum than particularly great. This isn't a bad way to spend a weekend, but it's hardly the genre-defining event its profile would suggest, and one can only hope that Sanderson delivers better in the second trilogy proper or in the later volumes of The Stormlight Archive.

Up and Coming (and Essential?) in January and 2011

The Hammer is K.J. Parker’s newest standalone, and it seems to be filled with all of what’s best in Parker’s prior works (rigorous and detailed worlds with accurate technology, great characters in interesting dynamics, etc). Fantasy Book Critic’s review, the only one that I’ve seen, is quite positive.

I loved The First Law trilogy; the books were snappy, cynical, and vivid. The ending was superb. Best Served Cold wasn’t quite on the same level (it was basically First Law v2), but I’m still quite excited about The Heroes, in part because it seems like a great opportunity for Abercrombie to write what he’s best at in new ways, particularly the focus on a single battle in a short time span. Early reports have been strong. 

FOR 2011

I thought it might prove interesting to post my most anticipated books of the new year and, at the end of the year, see how they fared compared to other releases.

Daniel Abraham - Dragon's Path

R. Scott Bakker - White Luck Warrior

Steven Erikson - The Crippled God
Felix Gilman - ???

Adam LG Nevill - The Ritual
K.J. Parker - The Hammer

Alastair Reynolds - Blue Remembered Earth

Brandon Sanderson - Mistborn: The Alloy of Law

Up and Coming (and Essential?) in December

I’ve been meaning to read the Alcatraz books for a while now. This is quite clearly not the place to start, being out of sight of the series opening, but what Sanderson’s said of the series on Writing Excuses sounds amusing, and, no matter how uninteresting a two or three hundred page book turns out to be, there’s always the consolation prize that it’s damn short. (Kidding – in part). Though what I’ve written on here of Sanderson’s work (Way of Kings and Defending Elysium) has been critical, I really did love Mistborn, and I’m looking forward to both someday cracking open the Alcatraz books and to getting my hands on the new projects from the man on the horizon.

Parker’s a fascinating author for me. The broad arcs of her novels could be mistaken for traditional (wars, power struggles, etc), but Parker’s strict realism, cynicism, and wry wit always set her writing apart. And then there’s the fact that she seems beautifully loathe to repeat herself. How does an author known for their stringent realism bring that trait to a novella about alchemy? I have no idea, but I can’t wait to find out.

AND

My apologies to Ms. Valente for this one. I haven’t yet gotten to read much of her writing, but what I have read has been very interesting, and her new story collection from Subterranean Press and PS Publishing looks right up my alley. So why didn’t it get a feature? Well, I double check my release dates on amazon, and amazon doesn’t have it listed . If you want a sample of Valente’s short fiction, there are quite a few stories available through her website.

Reading in November

A very good, but not great, Culture novel. This was my third Banks book, and I’ll happily admit that I’m quite converted, now. Review here.


I was a bit worried going into this one. I’d heard that it was less focused than Thunderer, less plot driven, and I’d already found Thunderer’s pacing and resolutions to be a problem. I needn’t have worried. Gears of the City is an excellent novel with some of the best prose that I’ve ever read. Review on the way.


The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms set itself up as a traditional fantasy, but soon abandoned that and went off to do something far more interesting. I can’t say that it totally succeeds, but I’m glad that it tried, and the read was generally a good one. Review coming.


Though I have yet to review any of his work on the Rack, Martin is one of my absolute favorite authors. Which is probably obvious considering the amount of time I spend on Westeros, but whatever. I’ve been meaning to go through his short story collections for a while now; this is the first one that I’ve gotten to. The stories that were in Dreamsongs were, for the most part, just as good on reread, and several of the new stories were certainly worth the price of the collection. There was a weaker tale or two, but that’s something to expect in every collection.


To me, Year One was a disappointment. It traded depth for style, and what style it had was generally lost due to the artwork. Review here.


The only thing stopping me from making another comics epiphany post about V for Vendetta is that I’d already Watchmen, so it didn’t hit me quite as hard. Still, Moore is absolutely without peer from what I’ve read of the format. I’ll be writing more on this.


Murakami is one of those authors I’ve had on my list to be read someday for a while now, but the Westeros book club helped give me a kick in the ass. I considered a review, but the discussion that was already done on the book covered most of the points I would’ve, so, if you’ve just read the novel, I’ll direct you there instead. As for my own impressions in brief: Murakami conveyed complex and thought provoking ideas with clear and readable prose. I’ll definitely be reading more of his work.


This was an amusing epistolary novella about power and ideology, but it was stopped from being great by the format. Deprived of the space to circle around the events and give them the context that they deserved, the twists were interesting, but not gut wrenching. An enjoyable read, though I don’t know if it’s worth the thirty plus dollars that you’re likely to find it for.


I enjoyed Devices and Desires, but I wasn’t without my reservations. Evil for Evil takes most of my points of contention and rips them to pieces. I think the most remarkable thing about this trilogy is the almost ridiculous degree of plot motion. Each of the two books so far could easily have been multi volume sagas. Review coming after I finish the final volume, The Escapement.


Honestly, I’m underwhelmed, and I’m not sure if it’s a fault in the book that caused it or just that I’ve read so much more (and more widely) since I read the first eleven volumes straight and loved (almost) every word of it. Yes, this book had a lot of plot motion compared to other Wheel of Time books. But Wheel of Time books aren’t the only standard out there, and, compared to much of what I’ve read lately, the plot was bloated beyond comprehension, the characters so plot shielded that danger can’t get within the same zip code, and the pacing so ugly that clusterfuck barely begins to describe it. I didn’t dislike the book, mind you, but I certainly didn’t love it. I ranted about some of my (spoiler filled) thoughts upon finishing it here; there won’t be a review because, really, I think most people have heard of the Wheel of Time by now and have a decent idea where they stand on it.


Cycles was fast paced, decently clever, and good fun. I’m still not wow by Y, but the series has been very enjoyable so far. And the quasi-review of the first volume is coming soon. Really.

Brandon Sanderson in New York City

Monday night, I went into New York City to go to Brandon Sanderson’s book signing. A combination of more people than last time and a smaller venue led to a more cramped feel with ghastly waits, but I’m still happy I went. Now, I think signed books are decently snazzy and all, but the main reason these events are cool for me is to put a face to a name and, especially, to hear the talk/Q&A. I’m not doing a word for word recreation here (my memory’s not that good, I didn’t take notes, and, besides, that’d be totally unnecessary), but I’ll try and get the gist of all of it.

The questions got off to a spoilery start, as the first half dozen were all RAFO’d, as Sanderson put it. Those included: Do we see Verin in Towers of Midnight? Do we see a 13 channeler conversion in Towers of Midnight? Who are the Red Veil dudes at the end? Etc, etc, etc.

After that, we get into some questions with actual answers, though the first proved obnoxious as hell. A man asked why the old tongue sounds more formal when Mat speaks it in the early books than when he does in the later. Sanderson said that the difference was caused by Mat’s familiarity with the tongue. But no, that’s not good enough, because the asker doesn’t buy that. Uh…what? It’s the guy writing it with the series’ creators notes. He knows the Objective Truth here, and, if you don’t like it, that’s just unfortunate, because it’s Correct.

Anyway, the asker’s reasoning was that the earlier segment was Germanic in its structure, the later French. Sanderson then spoke of all fantasy novels inherently being in translation and the difference in formality and base being the way to obtain the effect that the original had, whether the original was actually changing from German to French or not. He then went off on the subject of fantasy puns, which he said require some fancy meta footwork, because, really, if it’s a pun in our language it’s pretty unlikely in theirs as well. At this point, Alan (one of Jordan’s assistants and, evidently, the resident Old Tongue expert) then picked apart and stomped on the asker’s arguments using his far superior knowledge of said Old tongue. In short, it’s a fluid language that has depths we haven’t seen yet, which will be revealed in the house-sized Wheel of Time encyclopedia coming after A Memory of Light.

The most interesting question of the evening was how Sanderson finds it to work from the outline of another. As anyone who reads Sanderson’s blog or listens to Writing Excuses knows, he’s an outliner. Those outlines are, it seems, organized, not in a strict chronological progression, but rather as a succession of major events, with the connective tissue added later. In many cases, this was the form that Jordan’s notes took, with the central scenes often written or at least alluded to and with the gaps between them left dark. There were a select few Jordan planned events that Sanderson altered – mostly things that were set down indefinitely: “maybe I’ll do this. Or this. Or neither,” as Sanderson paraphrased – but he stuck to the outline the vast majority of the time.

For the scenes that were not in any way planned, Sanderson brainstormed a large number of possibilities, ranging from the obvious to the out there, and then took the one that he thought best – often in the form of an already written scene – to “Team Jordan” to get there opinion. Occasionally, he had to axe the idea, though he managed to sway them a majority of the time. There were two main “eyebrow raises” in his planning for the first two books of his series-capping trilogy, one of which made it into the books and worked, the other of which was dumped. As to what any of the eyebrow raisers – major or minor – were, Sanderson declined to reveal, due to not wanting us to pick apart the books by author, though he did say that he’d speak more freely after A Memory of Light.

There was a question about whether it’s possible for there to be female ta’veren and, if so, whether Egewene was one. The answer to the first is yes, but, as to the second, there are no female ta’veren in the main storyline, so Egwene’s out as a candidate.

Finally (though I’m totally improving the order, here) there was a very sensible question about the total lack of communication in the series: Why do the three men always banish the visions immediately upon their appearance rather than, you know, using them as the incredibly useful tool that they are? Sanderson said that the three are all a bit shell shocked about where they are and that all of them – even Mat, though to a lesser degree for him – still wish they were back in the Two Rivers, so they rid themselves of the reminders of their importance (the visions) as fast as they can without really thinking about the consequences. To me, that answer sort of reeks of plot convenience (Rand got over his wah, wah, wish I was a farmboy thing six thousand pages ago), but ah well.

When I was getting my book signed, I asked the only non-Wheel of Time question I heard that evening: “What’s the connection between the three planned Mistborn trilogies and the short novel in that world? Is there going to be some kind of overarching plot?” He said that there would be a large scale plot that unified the series, but that it’s not going to be something initially obvious, and that, though we’ve seen elements of it, it’s unlikely we could ever really guess what it is.

So, all in all, it was a good evening, even if I had to wait an inordinately long time, and fail an inordinately large amount of trivia, before I could have my forty-five seconds with Sanderson. Oh, and I’ve now got signed copies of Mistborn, Way of Kings, and Towers of Midnight, to go along with my Gathering Storm, Elantris, and Warbreaker from the last signing he did here.

Brandon Sanderson - The Way of Kings

The gates shook. Something pounded on them from the other side.

"The storm has come," Wit said, standing up.

The guards scrambled for spears left leaning beside the wall. They had a guardhouse, but it was empty; they preferred the night air.

The gate shook again, as if something enormous was outside. The guards yelled, calling to the men atop the wall. All was chaos and confusion as the gates thumped yet a third time, powerful, shaking, vibrating as if hit with a boulder.

And hen a bright, silvery blade rammed between the massive doors, slicing upward, cutting the bar that held them closed. A shardblade. (p. 1,000)

The Way of Kings is both the introduction to a new world, the world of the series that Tor is doing everything they can to push forward as the next epic fantasy flagship, and the story of several men who are at the center of the rising storm. At the first of those, The Way of Kings succeeds admirably. What it fails to do, however, is to also excel in the tale that it tells; everything about The Way of Kings is a prologue, and that feeling is hard to ever lose.

Mind you, The Way of Kings does display quite a few of Sanderson’s great strengths. Though I would not yet place Sanderson with masters like VanderMeer or Martin when it comes to either the feel or detail of his world, Sanderson’s skills as a world builder are exemplary. Roshar, like his other creations, is not your generic medieval world, and what is so enjoyable about Sanderson’s settings is that he actually tries to think through the implications of his decisions and then implements the results into every aspect of the book, from plot twists to diction.

At times, this can lead to a slight awkwardness – such as the curse Storm you! that is used a thousand times in the text and, while making perfect sense for the world, feels simply odd to read – the vast majority of Sanderson’s decisions in the area are a great success. His ability to draw you into the world and then twist you about once you are there leads to several of his greatest moments, twists that are (in his own words, from Writing Excuses) surprising yet inevitable within the framework that he has constructed.

To give a small example, a king is killed in the prologue, and the assassin who kills him hears his dying words. The assassin regrets the killing and wants to pass the words on, so he writes them down next to the king’s corpse. This makes perfect sense to both to the reader and the assassin, coming from outside the Alethi culture that the king is a member of. Alethi men, however, are not meant to be able to read, a fact that is brought up in separate circumstances several times. Later, a character brings up the puzzle of how and why the king learned to read.

So Sanderson’s world building is great, and it’s very enjoyable when he shows it off, especially in the one off interlude viewpoints that are scattered around the map. Unfortunately, the world building’s integration into the main storyline is far from flawless. There are several info dumps within the narrative, and, though they are rarely long enough to be a problem on their own, they occasionally clutter action scenes or hinder the pacing as a whole:

[Szeth] hit the ground in the midst of the soldiers. Completely surrounded, but holding a Shardblade.

According to legend, the Shardblades were first carried by the Knights Radiant uncounted ages ago. Gifts of their god, granted to allow them to fight horrors of rock and flame, dozens of feet tall, foes whose eyes burned with hatred. The voidbringers. When your foe had skin as hard as stone itself, steel was useless. Something supernatural was required.

Szeth rose from his crouch, loose white clothes rippling, jaw clenched against his sins… (p. 28)

Sanderson is known for his magic systems and, in that respect, The Way of Kings does not disappoint. Though the magic is not as front and center as it is in, say, Mistborn, its impact is felt throughout the world and throughout the story. The quest for shards and plates – both of which, at first, appeared to me as something like Masterchief’s armor and a Covenant Energy Sword, but I got over that impression soon enough – is both convincing and interesting, and Sanderson ingrains us with enough of the culture’s morals and desires that when the relics come into question towards the end of the book the reader can feel the weight of the decision alongside the characters.

Sanderson’s prose in The Way of Kings is nothing exemplary, but it’s not trying to be, the ultimate goal more in line with a camera lense than a stained glass window. The action scenes are clear, flowing, and cinematic, and the atmosphere comes through strong at several moments, many of them when the highstorms are at their height and dust is swirling just past the windows. At the same time, Sanderson will occasionally repeat himself, leading to certain worldbuilding aspects (spren come to mind, in particular) being reiterated in almost the same words time and time again.

Of the three characters, Kaladin is the one with the most screen time. His story is well told and enjoyable, but it’s crippled by the simple fact that every single beat of it is obvious from before the word go. Kaladin is the reluctant hero to the last detail, the man with newfound powers who’s afraid of the responsibility they bring, the just and good leader faced with the deaths of his men. It’s all well written, and the bridge scenes that pepper his narrative are excellent, but it’s hard to get too wrapped up in the tale when every obstacle is so obviously only the most minor of setbacks.

Sanderson has said that each book in The Stormlight Archives will have one “main” character who will have flashbacks to their past throughout the book, and Kaladin’s the man with the past here. The flashbacks are, like much of Way of Kings, interesting but ultimately inconsequential. There are a few very good scenes in his childhood, don’t get me wrong, but none of it is unexpected, certainly not the kind of thing that you’d be lost around if you hadn’t been given a blow by blow tour beforehand. So, in the end, it’s something that’s not unenjoyable but also not necessary – fine on its own, but, when placed in a book so filled with excess, one of the traits that conspire to slow the glorious march of Sanderson’s world to a more stately crawl.

Dalinar is, like Kaladin, a familiar character. He is the noble lord, the man who will do what is right even if it kills him. What sets Dalinar apart from his fellow Noble Lords is the visions that take him with every highstorm, throwing him into a past place and time and instructing him of what to do in the present. Dalinar acts on what they tell him, but can never get over the fear that he is mad for doing so. Compounding the problem is his son, Alodin, who is convinced that their father is running their house into the ground. The tension between the two is the highlight of the arc, though some of the drama is dampened by the sheer amount of time spent on it. The dilemma is interesting, but Dalinar spends what feels like entire novels worth of text debating his sanity, flip flopping back and forth and announcing grand decisions only to renege on them, then perhaps renege on the reneging, then perhaps… well, you get the idea. Furthermore, the visions are never really resolved, they simply grow in scale, leaving us to try and guess their meaning and importance until the next thousand page opus.

The final main character is Shallan, and her chapters hold some of my favorite and least favorite aspects of The Way of Kings as a whole. Shallan is attempting to become the ward of world renowned scholar Jasnah, the king’s sister, and, as such, her chapters involve more studying and contemplation than slashing power swords through breastplates. The change of pace helps the story keep from growing stale, and Shallan’s character comes through perhaps the best of the three. Her storyline lacks the major upheavals of, say, Dalinar’s, but the information uncovered is interesting and the relationships that develop feel natural and conflicted. Best of all are Sanderson’s descriptions of her art, which colors her chapters beautifully and makes her immensely likeable, at least from my perspective.

Of course, it’s also interesting to see that the person facing the far, far more minor decisions than our beloved Noble Lord also makes her decision in a bare fraction of the page’s that he does – perhaps a novella rather than his seven volume saga. Still, a novella’s worth of buildup is hardly rapid, and how much you enjoy Shallan’s plotline will, in large part, depend on how much you are willing to tolerate character’s debating over imaginary topics. Those sections are broken up by Shallan’s wit, which is, to put it lightly, a mixed bag. Most of what she says is decently clever, but it’s the kind of clever where you smirk for about a second, not the kind where everyone in the room starts guffawing – which, of course, everyone does. Every time. That’s not to imply that there’s nothing of real interest going on, though; Shallan’s plotline has one of the novel’s absolute coolest scenes about halfway through it, and the slow build leads to an excellent climax.

The final recurring viewpoint character appears only in interludes and shadows, which is a shame because it’s in Szeth’s storyline that Sanderson really plays to his strengths. Szeth’s is a fast moving tale filled with obscured meanings and motivations, all made great by clever action and an ability to think through consequences in a way both understandable and unpredictable:

Szeth-son-son-Vallano, Truthless of Shinovar, wore white on the day he was to kill a king. The white clothing was a Parshendi tradition, foreign to him. but he did as his masters required and did not ask for an explanation. (p. 21)

Shallan’s climax isn’t the only great one. It’s only at the end of the book that Sanderson really steps it up, but, when he does, it’s impossible to miss the fireworks. The Way of Kings ends with a barrage of confrontations and twists that propelled everything that came before to new heights, validated some of the long waits, didn’t quite validate some others, and was generally a more subdued version of the explosion of twists at the end of Mistborn, with the difference here being that the foundation Sanderson was building off of was even greater.

It’s probably telling, though, that I said, for all three major plotlines, that the buildup was too long. It is, for each and every one of them. There are no truly wasted scenes in The Way of Kings, no six chapter sub plot that feels like a pure digression upon completion, but there is still far, far, far too much stuff hanging out in that gray area where, yes, it does give us a bit more insight to the character, but it takes up twenty pages, and when you do it again and again for this guy, and again and again for that guy, you’ve got a book that doesn’t so much strut as stagger. The set pieces are all good – great, even – and the characters are generally good, the atmosphere’s engrossing, all of that’s where it should be, but there’s simply too much book here. The world building was needed to establish the epic feel that Sanderson was going for, and it’s the best part of the book, but it’s hard to deny that the world building got tired, sat down, and smothered the main plot under its many, many, gratuitous layers of fat.

In short, I’m not saying that Way of Kings is a bad book. It’s not. I’m not saying that Way of Kings is the best series opener since A Game of Thrones, because it’s not. What it is, is a good, enjoyable book that’s got some flaws, but also has plenty to love for fans of Epic Fantasy. Will Sanderson make The Stormlight Archive more than that? I suppose we’ll have to wait and see.

Up and Coming (and Essential?) in November

Everyone has, of course, heard of The Wheel of Time and its penultimate volume, Towers of Midnight. Whether you’re a long term fan or you first heard about the series with the recent embargo shitstorm (in which case you’ve probably never heard of Lord of the Rings either, but nevermind) you’re probably well aware of the back story: the deaths, the splits, the outlines, the Brandon Sandersons, etc. All very exciting stuff, a massive hype storm that every once in a while turns malevolent, all with a book at the center. And early opinions of the book are generally quite positive, as Aidan nicely sums up with his review round up.


Half of me wants to grab this book right now and tear through it. I can still vividly remember the time when King was my favorite author. I’ve still probably read more books by King than anyone else, though he no longer occupies that favorite spot. And the reason why is why the other half of me is begging that overexcited bit to calm the hell down and look the other way. As followers of this blog now, my reactions to later King have not been positive. In fact, I went so far as to, in the comments of my The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon review, say that I wasn’t buying any new King. Will I be able to stick with that in the face of a new collection? Not sure…

Anyway, for those of you who aren't quite as conflicted, Full Dark no Stars is a collection of four novellas, ala Different Seasons and Four Past Midnight, and comes out on the ninth.


R. Scott Bakker’s second thriller’s due in a little bit if you live in the US, some time ago if you’re elsewhere. Neuropath was a mixture of brilliant and disappointing, but Bakker’s other books and blog posts (generally) fall within the first category, so I have high hopes yet. Early word on Disciple is generally good, with perhaps the most in-depth review that I’ve come across being here, though the same blogger’s list of quotes from the opening pages of the novel is probably more promotional in nature and less likely to color your expectations for those still undecided (leaving the juicy review for when you’re trying to sort out your own interpretations).


I’m a Malazan fan. A rather large (and moderately obsessive) one, actually. Ever since I finished Dust of Dreams, I’ve been going through a bit of withdrawal, and that was only a few months back. And yet, I’ve had my problems with Esslemont. I’m looking forward to Stonewielder, yeah, but, an unfortunate little part of me is more hoping that Esslemont doesn’t ruin any of Erikson’s nicely established characters than that Esslemont does a good job, having already given up on the latter. Unfair? Hell yes. That’s why I’m trying to hit that part with a shovel. In the meantime, you can check out Pat’s glowing review.

Reading in September

The concept behind Shine is interesting, but the stories are uneven, to say the least. In addition, it’s hard to tell what Vries means when he talks about Optimistic SF. In the introduction he says that it’s not just a tragic, or even an average, world that people learn to adapt to or prosper in, but rather something where everyone is truly better off, and yet a good majority of these stories don’t fit that definition. Not that that makes those bad stories, of course, some of those are the best in the collection, but they further muddy the waters of whatever Vries was trying to say. There’re also an annoying number of stories that are either purely didactic or incredibly obvious allegories.


Visions is a short story collection from one of Russia’s premier writers in the early twentieth century. Andreyev’s writing is dark, precise, and evocative, and his use of the supernatural to show his ideas in stories like The Red Laugh has convinced me that, if he had lived twenty years later and published in England, he would be mentioned in the same breath as many of Lovecraft’s contemporaries (Machen, Blackwood, etc). In fact, his story Lazarus has been in a Famous Modern Ghost Stories collection. Anyway, review on the way.


Matter is an enjoyable book that likes the building up part of its story so much that it really doesn’t do anything else, going from transit to conclusion in only a few dozen awful pages. Still, I will be reading more of Banks’s work. Review here.


Last Days is so taut that putting down the book at any point, whether it’s a chapter break or the middle of a sentence, feels like physically prying yourself away from some addictive drug. The narrative has its problems, but they’re comparatively minor. Review on the way.


It was enjoyable when Heinlein was actually trying to, you know, tell a story. The two hundred pages of tensionless philosophizing that followed, however – not to mention the painfully predictable sacrifice scene – did not help. Neither did the irony of “Nine out of ten times, if a woman gets raped it’s her fault,” appearing in a book about equality and free love. Neither did the other fifty-five sexist or otherwise offensive quotes and situations that crop up. Nor the playboy super-genius author insert.


There are certain things that you expect when going into a classic. Powerful writing, interesting themes, deep characterization, you know the drill. The Odyssey delivers on all those fronts, as well as being something I didn’t expect: a page turner. It may have been written a few thousand years back, but it’s still a damn fun read.


Though I’m always comparing King’s later books to his earlier classics, I’d almost forgot what it was like to read him when he’s actually firing on all cylinders. This is, without a doubt, one of King’s best novels – though not one of the very best – and a frightening and acomplished horror novel no matter the standards you hold it to. Review coming.


May as well continue the Policy of Silence on Breaking New Ground posts, because it amuses me. Review on the way.


The Folding Knife is the personal tragedy that lies at the heart of an epic. Parker’s characterization and prose are impeccable, and, even if the conclusions and events are bleak, the book is impossible to put down due to the sheer charisma that every word of dialogue brings with it. Review on the way.


I think that just about everyone has heard about the Way of Kings at this point. In my opinion, it’s quite good, but not great, and it’s reviewed to death. So I’ll be adding yet another review, just because. Until then, there are a huge number of great reviews of this out already, including Niall’s for Strange Horizons.

Up and Coming (and Essential) in August

Here’s what I know about Mary Robinette Kowal: The Four Principles of Puppetry, Writing Process Q&A at Worldcon, Character & World Building Q&A at Worldcon. While I suppose that having original and insightful things to say about writing and actually being good at writing don’t have to go hand in hand all the time, I still think it’s a good bet that they go together more often than not. If you're interested, you should definitely check out Kowal's The Big Idea post on Whatever.


It’s Brandon Sanderson, beginning a new epic fantasy series. Of course I’m interested. Moving beyond just the name, however, there’s the fact that Way of Kings looks like a very interesting book, and not just because it has new and inventive magic systems springing out of every pore. Brandon Sanderson’s Suvudu interview sheds quite a bit of light on the book, and, for those of you not averse to free samples, you can get a nicely sized chunk of the book’s opening on Tor's website to further whet your appetite.

Way of Kings Preview

A preview of one of someone's most awaited novel's should be a joyous occasion, right? Wrong. All it does is mark a long struggle with temptation, where it's-RIGHT-there clashes with but-it'd-be-better-with-the-book, usually culminating in either resentful abstinence or guilt ridden surrender. Assuming you're not me, however, and assuming you're interested in Sanderson's Way of Kings, the preview on Tor is probably the beginning of a gleeful introductory period with the book, hopefully culminating in a happy friendship, or maybe even love. Lucky bastards.

Oh, and make sure to read Sanderson's introduction to the book.

Brandon Sanderson - Defending Elysium [Short Story Review]

Above, beyond the buildings, beyond the air, Jason could Sense the specks of starlight in the sky. "Space is Elysium, Lanna. The place where heroes go when they die. The Varvax and the others, they've fought and bled, just like we have. They finally over came all of that—they paid their price and have earned their peace. I want to make certain their paradise remains such."

"By playing god?"

Jason fell silent. He didn't know how to reply, so he didn't. He simply stood, Sensing the paradise above and Evensong below.

Defending Elysium is a novel’s worth of content shrunk down into short story form. Imagine if you opened up Mistborn to, say, page five hundred and started reading. That’s something like what this feels like at first. I’m not saying that Defending Elysium is incoherent, mind you. Far from it. The world gradually does begin to make sense, but it does so through something more resembling gradual osmosis than any info dumps that I’ve ever seen. The entire thing feels almost like a jigsaw puzzle, and the reader’s primary job while reading is to try and put all the pieces together and make sense of the world. Once you do, the resulting picture is a fitting reward for your troubles.

The worldbuilding is deep, and everything we see only makes it more apparent how much there is under the surface. Everything strikes a good tone between humor and drama, and I challenge anyone to not be intrigued by the idea of the Phone Company dictating human policy. Of course, setting mysteries aren’t enough to keep the reader turning pages, and Sanderson knows this. Defending Elysium’s characters are engaging enough to keep you turning the pages while you wait for everything to click. Jason’s competence and Lanna’s amusing chattiness do a fine job of moving the story forward, but the best character by far is Coln Abrams, a sworn enemy of the Phone Company and who gives up his profession to find out his enemies secrets…or so he thinks.

Sanderson’s prose here is adequate, but not as polished as it would be in his later works. The dialogue, also, manages to be snappy and realistic for the most part. Unfortunately, things get awkward every once in a while, though not fatally so:

"A reporter," Lanna guessed.

"No," Jason said. "He's too well-equipped. Remember, he managed to hack into a secure FTL comm."

Yes, Jason, we do remember the events of five minutes ago.

Despite a few minor hiccups, Defending Elysium is an engaging and entertaining short story. If you want to just read on the surface, you get a fun ride. If you want to go a bit deeper, you get some food for thought. None of it is completely original, but all of it is well done and well worth the click necessary to read it.

A Few Notes on Review Order

As inconsequential as this instance may be, I don’t like lying to my readers, so I figured I’d come out and say that, when I said that Neverwhere would be getting a review this week in Reading in April, I was unaware that the next day I would be seized with a fit of inspiration and would pump out a review of The City and The City. Seeing as the month is over and there’s no longer any real reason to get the Neverwhere review out as soon as possible (I would’ve liked to be able to mention it in the aforementioned Reading in… post, but that wasn’t to happen), I’m going to post the Mieville first so that it will be up before I read (and review?) Kraken.

While I’m doing this, I feel I might as well mention the other two reviews in the queue and the promised article. I have not had writer’s block with regards to the Sanderson short or the King novel (every review up there is already written); they just keep getting pushed back by more newer, more exciting reviews. I guess it’s an unavoidable result of posting a review a week and writing slightly faster than that, but I always have an itch to show off my new work first. The Sanderson/King will both be coming, though I will still give preference to new releases and books that’ll show up in that month’s summary.

As to the Reynolds article, mentioned in my review of Terminal World, it is still planned, though I’ll admit that I’ve yet to do anything more than find the quote I plan to start off with, though that easily took an hour. Redemption Ark is a damn big book, and I read it before I started noting down my favorite passages. I’m aware that I really shouldn’t have mentioned it till it was on the horizon, but rest assured that it will eventually materialize.

Brandon Sanderson - Way of Kings [Cover Art]

My first thought upon seeing the cover was that it was pretty uninteresting. I don’t mean bad, of course. It’s fine cover; it’s just not exciting. The BRANDON SANDERSON is huge, which is, I suppose, a necessary step to try and convince fans that they’re getting stuff of the same quality. The problem comes from it being so big that it dominates the whole cover and prevents any thought from entering my head besides BRANDON SANDERSON. Which is quite possibly what the publishers want, I’ll admit.

The art itself doesn’t really do all that much for me either. I’ve seen it compared to Dune in both positive and negative ways, but my issue doesn’t really come from any one comparison. It’s just that everything on the cover seems so familiar. We’ve got a guy with a really, really big sword. Standing far away is another guy with (presumably) another big sword. Are they talking in some form of weapon-based sign language? Are they preparing to fight at an immense distance, using the extreme length of their blades to their best advantage? Whatever it is, it doesn’t exactly make me want to go running to find out.

And then I saw this:


God damn. Suddenly it all fits into place. That thing is beautiful. That gigantic storm is terrifying, and the two guys standing up to it no longer look pedestrian but rather defiant and downright awesome. I suppose that they’d have to spoil it by adding at least some text, so I guess I should just be happy that I have the liberty of spreading flat my dust jacket, when it comes, and admiring the picture as a whole.

Of course, neither cover can really capture the intrigue displayed by the original: