Daniel Abraham has been nominated for the Hugo, Nebula and World Fantasy Awards, and was awarded the International Horror Guild Award. He writes epic fantasy under his own name and writes urban fantasy under the name M.L.N. Hanover. He also writes with Ty Franck as James S.A. Corey (reviewed on our Corey page).
Read excerpts of some of his books at Daniel Abraham's website.
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The Long Price Quartet — (2006-2009) Publisher: In this brilliant and original epic fantasy of Machiavellian intrigue and unique magic, Daniel Abraham portrays fully realized women and complex, conflicted men in love, caught between the forces of money and power. The city-state of Saraykeht dominates the Summer Cities: commerce and trade fill the streets. Any desire, however exotic or base, can be satisfied in its soft quarter. The people live and work secure in the knowledge that their city is a bastion of progress in a harsh world. It would be a tragedy if it fell... At the heart of the city's influence is the poet-sorcerer Heshai and the captive spirit Seedless which he controls. Heshai is at once the linchpin of and the most vulnerable point in Saraykeht's greatness. Far to the west, the armies of Galt have conquered many lands. To take Saraykeht, they must first destroy its prosperity. Marchat Wilsin, head of Galt's trading-house in the city, is planning a terrible crime against Heshai and Seedless. If he succeeds, Saraykeht will fall. Amat, House Wilsin's business manager, her apprentice Liat, and two young men from the farthest reaches of their society stand alone against the dire threat to the city. But in this city of power and intrigue, no one is without secrets. The price they must pay to save Saraykeht may be greater than they can afford...
The Long Price Quartet: A Shadow in Summer, A Betrayal in Winter, An Autumn War
I often fall into the temptation of wanting to rush out and review a new book in a series immediately. It’s fresh, it’s out there, let’s let people know. But then I find myself three or four books in and wondering if readers should have bothered starting that first book, no matter how good it was.
So when it came to Daniel Abraham’s The Long Price Quartet, which began with A Shadow in Summer, as much as I enjoyed the book, I thought I’d hold off until we saw where he went with it. Having just completed An Autumn War, the third book of four, I feel confident in telling readers, “jump on in; the reading’s fine.”
The series is set in a world where there are basically two competing forces. One is the Eastern-tinged independent “summer cities” of the Khaiem. Rich, sophisticated, plush cities whose power is predicated upon a single magical concept—Andats. Created and controlled by “poets” (one poet to an Andat, one Andat to a city), Andats are ideas/metaphors made real and in humanoid shape. Each Andat has a single power that can be applied in multiple ways. For instance, the andat of Saraykeht, “Removing the part that continues,” more familiarly known as “Seedless,” can separate seeds from cotton, a huge advantage which allows the city to become a mercantile power. Seedless can also be used, however, to separate human seed, either on a one to one basis as an abortion (called the “sad trade”) or on a much wider basis, wiping out hundreds or thousands or hundreds of thousands. This threat would clearly make another power think twice about taking on the city.
Creation of an Andat is life-threatening, and control of one is a constant strain, as the Andat is bound to the poet (indeed, is in some ways made of the poet) but has its own personality and its own agenda, including a desire to be free. Andats can be kept and handed off from one poet to another over generations, though it is always a risk and always gets harder, meaning there is constant fear by the cities of losing their Andat.
Opposed to the summer cities, though not overtly (due to the power of the Andats), are the Galts a more technological, more military-based civilization who covet the riches of the summer cities and — even more than the riches — the Andat themselves. A Shadow in Summer introduces the setting — a conspiracy by Galt to break the power of Saraykeht by freeing Seedless — and the major characters: Amat, a merchant woman who uncovers the conspiracy; Itani (later called Otah), a common laborer who once trained to be a poet; Liat, Amat’s assistant and Itani’s lover; Heshai, the poet who controls Seedless; and Maati, Heshai’s pupil who is training to eventually take over Seedless.
Book Two, A Betrayal in Winter, is set 15 years later and shifts to a more northern summer city — Machi. Here, the Khai (each city’s ruler is called the Khai) is dying. The tradition is that the sons of the khai enter into a kill-or-be-killed competition until only one is left alive to take the throne. It turns out that Otah (Itani) from book one is a long-forgotten son of the Khai who had been sent away as a child to train as a poet, a training he turned his back on for the life of a laborer until the events of book one. Once again, Otah is caught up in a complicated conspiracy, this one involving the succession of Machi. Also involved are Machi’s poet Cehmai Tyan, his andat Stone-Made-Soft, Maati, and the Khai’s daughter Idaan.
Book Three, An Autumn War, set over a decade later, presents a much broader threat. The first two books focused on a single city. In An Autumn War, we meet a Galtic general, Balasar Gice, who sees the Andat as a threat not only to Galt, but to the world (deep history offers up some reason for this belief). Having come up with what he believes is a successful method of destroying the Andat, Gice marches an army on all the summer cities, aiming for Machi as his last conquest. Otah, now ruler of Machi, must find a way to stop not only Gice’s army, but also his plot against the Andat and poets, aided by his fellow characters from the previous two books along with a few important additions.
Except for the latter half of An Autumn War, which follows Gice’s march on the summer cities, these books are not action-oriented. There are almost no battles, no quests, no swordsmanship, etc. The books are driven more by intricate conspiracies that must be either put into place or unraveled (depending on which characters we’re following at the time) and by the characters and their relationships. These are, for the most part, richly complex characters (A Betrayal in Winter is the weakest in this regard) torn by conflicting desires and struggling with major ethical questions. Seedless can be read as a simple villain, but he is enslaved to the poet’s will and this garners him much sympathy. As does his multi-faceted personality, able to be sinister and charming, to hate and to like. Gice, as well, can be simply read, but while his means are brutal, his intentions are noble and hard to fault on many levels. The characters’ complexity also is displayed in the changes they undergo over the many years spanned by the three books; they are not the same people in book three as in book one and their differences are utterly believable. Daniel Abraham’s characters are probably the best thing about The Long Price Quartet, and enough on their own to warrant reading.
The Eastern-influence of the setting is nicely different. And it’s also refreshing to have a magical system that is so limited and has a stark cost associated with it, as opposed to the wave-of-the-hand magic we see so often. I would have liked a greater sense of the whole world, and especially more on the Galts, but this was a relatively minor flaw. As mentioned, A Betrayal in Winter suffers from somewhat weaker characters than the other two, but not to any major detriment and if anything, its plot is more focused and the writing tighter, so the character issue is somewhat
balanced. An Autumn War’s subplot about a possible turncoat never really rings fully true, but luckily it’s only a subplot. Abraham’s use of formalized gestures as complement to conversation adds to the wonderful sense of difference, though I’m not sure it was mined for its full potential. I wouldn’t have minded a bit of humor leavened throughout. But again, these are all relatively minor complaints and all outweighed by the richly compelling characters, the brilliant premise of the andats (what reader can’t root for a book where poets — poets! — have so much power), the careful layering of plot points that lead inexorably to the current point, etc.
Having read three-quarters of the way through this series, I eagerly await its conclusion in book four (The Price of Spring). The Long Price Quartet is a compelling fantasy that won’t feel to readers like the same old same old epic fantasy. Nor do they need to worry that it will tease them into a series with a good opening than steadily deteriorates (you know who I mean). Plus, it has the added advantage of having each book happily able to stand independently — no cliffhanger endings here. So as I said at the start: jump on in, the reading’s fine. Highly recommended. —Bill Capossere
A Shadow in Summer
The Cities of the Khaiem shine like jewels in the East, and the brightest is the port of Saraykeht. The realm's profitable cotton trade flows through the city, quickened by the artistry of the poet Heshai. For in the East, a poet's art can become incarnate as a powerful spirit-slave (andat), and it is on the shoulders of Heshai, master of the andat Seedless, that the weight of Saraykeht's continuing prosperity balances... a weight outsiders would gladly topple.
In these delicate times, first-time novelist Daniel Abraham chronicles the poignant choices of a handful of characters seldom seen in the "fantasy" genre: a middle-aged, female overseer of a foreign merchant house; her aging employer, the house's lord; her young assistant; the assistant's lover (a common dock-laborer); and Heshai's newly-arrived apprentice. Together and individually, without sword or spell, these elegantly-realized few will determine Saraykeht's fate.
Daniel Abraham, quite often a poet himself in fashioning the novel's lacquer-smooth prose, has written a marvelous novel — a “fantasy” by virtue of its setting and the andat's power, but a fantasy that can be gleefully dropped in the lap of anyone complaining of generic, Arthurian or Tolkien-esque settings; paper-deep protagonists; or unrestrained gore. A Shadow in Summer is both fresh and literary, and as Mr. Abraham has spent years writing short fiction and honing his craft, he deserves every compliment that comes his way.
Although A Shadow in Summer is not a perfect book — some will no doubt label the communicative custom of “poses” (e.g. “[he] took a pose half query and half command”) as a device to cheat and tell emotions instead of showing them; and there is a plot issue [highlight the following text if you want to read this spoiler: The plot is driven by a Western conspiracy to remove the poet and andat and thus cripple the city. The execution of the story is solid enough that one may not pause to consider the larger picture; but in retrospect, it seems implausible that the conspirators would adopt their complex, innocent-life-taking scheme when assassinating the poet would work just as well. Of course, it could not be a blatant, traceable act, but a well-planned “accident” — perhaps a roof tile falling on the strolling poet (as it does on others in an actual scene), a mugging, or the consumption of “bad” liquor or drugs — would work equally well and with fewer contortions.] — it is a book worth owning and, likely, re-reading. Fans of Barry Hughart and Guy Gavriel Kay should take special note of this tale. Four summer-bright stars. —Rob Rhodes
The Price of Spring
I’ve been a big fan of Daniel Abraham’s Long Price Quartet and The Price of Spring, its concluding volume, confirms my view that it is one of the more original and best-written fantasy epics in recent years.
If you haven’t read the third volume, An Autumn War, stop reading here as you’ll run into spoilers for that book.
As has been the pattern in the series, the story picks up years after the events of An Autumn War. Otah and Maati reappear as major characters, while other familiar faces show up in relatively minor roles — Balasar Gice, Cehmani, Sinja, Idaan, and others. New characters, both major and minor, are added to the mix, including Otah’s daughter Eiah, his son Danat, Danat’s betrothed, and several poets-in-training. An Autumn War ended with the destruction of the poets and the magical Andat, but only after the Andat Sterile had made the women of the Khaiem and the men of Galt infertile. Fifteen years later, both nations are already having difficulties and the prognosis for worse is obvious: without children, labor is becoming scarce, farms are going unworked, businesses lose essential workers, the armies and navies are aging and will in a few years’ time be unable to defend the borders.
The book opens with Otah attempting to negotiate an agreement with Galt to send willing members of the fertile genders of each sex over to the other country so the two countries can survive Sterile’s curse. As part of his negotiating, he agrees to have his son Danat wed to a prominent daughter of Galt, Ana Dasin, but the betrothal goes nowhere as smoothly as Otah had wished.
Meanwhile, Otah’s daughter, believing that this agreement demeans all women (viewing them as useful only for their reproductive ability), has left the palaces and joined with Maati, who sees Otah’s treaty as a sell-out to the Galts who had destroyed more than half the Khaiem cities in a bloody invasion. To stop Otah and to reassert Khaiem power over Galt, Maati has gathered several women in an attempt to teach them to be poets and regain the power of the Andat. It quickly becomes apparent that along with Vanjit, whose entire family was killed by the Galts, Eiah is his best pupil, making these two the most likely new poets. Much of the book is focused on several races: the race by Maati and Eiah and Vanjit to “bind” a new Andat, the race by Otah and others to find them and stop them before they do so, and the race between the past and the future as the two countries must decide what their relationship to each other will be.
There is much less focus on the Andat in this novel, but the discussion of their creation and binding — the attempt to make concrete an abstract idea — is fascinating and enjoyably stimulating. The setting also plays a smaller role. The gesture/pose grammar of the Khaiem is more fully realized here since we see it employed between Khaiem and Galts, so its subtleties are more played up.
The strengths of The Price of Spring are the same as with the series as a whole: characterization, an original “eastern-style” setting, a unique magic system, tight writing, strong prose, and a good ending. These books are character-driven — you’ll find no sweeping battle scenes, no storming the gates, no brawling or swordplay or fireballs a’bursting. The action involves mostly travel, well-done dialogue, and brief acts that have deep and far-ranging effects. The characters are complex and multi-faceted and, as in real life, we can see their actions in both favorable and unfavorable lights. In other words, nobody does anything here because they’re simply “evil” or they’re the “dark lord” — their motivations are mundane and believable: grief, jealousy, love, protectiveness, etc. Even when characters do something we don’t like, we can see why they’d do it. For characters we already know, we get to see other sides of them or we get to see them ripen over the decades the book spans — sometimes growing wiser, sometimes letting the world outgrow their earlier wisdom. This is more true of Otah than anyone, and the rich, layered portrayal of his entire life as it plays out across the four novels is one of Daniel Abraham’s finest achievements. By the time this book ends we feel a true sense of a life, a real life, lived, with all the sorrows and grievous errors and magnificent triumphs any real life contains.
The plot of The Price of Spring is compelling and tense through much of the novel. I think, though, that my favorite aspect of the plot is how Abraham has us, as fans of fantasy and all that usually involves (magic, grand actions, noble justice, etc) rooting for the end of fantasy — the end of the Andats and the lack of justice. If the “good guys” win, there will be no magic in this world — only the continued technological progress of Galt as represented by their steamwagons. It’s a somewhat depressing thought for those of us enticed by the promise of difference and magic in these worlds. And Abraham shows us the bittersweet aspect of this — the necessity to move on, the built-in stagnation inherent in the Andat system set side by side with the sorrow of a world gone by, a world that wasn’t great but had its strengths, its pleasures, its better aspects that will be lost along with its worse elements. Much of this comes through the interior thought process of Otah, whom we’ve seen age from a young man to a nostalgic grieving old man burdened by responsibility.
The Price of Spring is relatively concise. There wasn’t any area of sustained lag, no major pacing problems. The writing is strong throughout and the bittersweet ending (really two endings since there’s an epilog) finishes both the book and the series strongly and logically and honestly, with a truly moving close.
The Price of Spring is an excellent closure to one of the best fantasy epics of recent years. I commend Daniel Abraham for actually finishing a quartet in four books and look forward to his next project. Highly recommended. —Bill Capossere
The Dagger and the Coin — (2011) Publisher: Summer is the season of war in the Free Cities. Marcus wants to get out before the fighting starts. His hero days are behind him and simple caravan duty is better than getting pressed into service by the local gentry. Even a small war can get you killed. But a captain needs men to lead — and his have been summarily arrested and recruited for their swords.
Cithrin has a job to do — move the wealth of a nation across a war zone. An orphan raised by the bank, she is their last hope of keeping the bank's wealth out of the hands of the invaders. But she's just a girl and knows little of caravans, war, and danger. She knows money and she knows secrets, but will that be enough to save her in the coming months?
Geder, the only son of a noble house is more interested in philosophy than swordplay. He is a poor excuse for a soldier and little more than a pawn in these games of war. But not even he knows what he will become of the fires of battle. Hero or villain? Small men have achieved greater things and Geder is no small man.
Falling pebbles can start a landslide. What should have been a small summer spat between gentlemen is spiraling out of control. Dark forces are at work, fanning the flames that will sweep the entire region onto The Dragon's Path — the path of war.
The Dragon’s Path
As I’ve said previously in my reviews, I’d place Daniel Abraham’s The Long Price Quartet among the top four or five fantasy series of the past decade. So when his new series, entitled The Dagger and the Coin, was announced, I was more than eager to see what he would do for a follow-up. I was not disappointed. The first book in the series, The Dragon’s Path, is one of my favorite reads so far this year and I’ll be surprised if it doesn’t make it onto my year’s best list at the end.
The Dragon’s Path is set in a world long ago ruled by dragons. Over time the dragons created thirteen subspecies of humans to act as specialized slaves, breeding one group with the attributes of warriors and another with traits better suited to underground mining, for instance. With the dragons long gone (though their artifacts such as roads and buildings remain), the humans have forged their own kingdoms, city-states, and empires. One such is Antea, whose Severed Throne sits in the capital city of Camnipol. Antea is currently ruled by King Simeon, but the land teeters on the edge of civil war as new ideas threaten the idea of fixed nobility and rule by king, leading to factions and rivalries within the court. Dawson Kalliam is an ultraconservative noble who will do all he can to protect his friend the king and the status quo (everybody in their place where they belong), sure in the rightness and, ahem, “nobility” of his position. Along with the group of nobles he enlists to his cause, he is also is helped by his wife Clara, son Jorey, and a houseguard named Coe. Caught up in the gamesmanship is a young noble, Geder Palliako, who is more scholar than soldier or political player, but finds himself at various points fighting in an attack on the Free City of Vanai, becoming head administrator of a city, trying to head off a coup, and setting out into the wilds in search of an ancient legend.
Meanwhile, the Medean Bank branch in Vanai, seeing the writing on the wall, smuggles out much of its holdings via a young ward of the bank, Cithrin, who disguises herself as a boy, the goods as wool and iron, and joins a caravan exiting the city before the battle. The caravan is guarded by the famous hero Captain Marcus Wester, his second-in-command Yardem, and a group of actors he’s had to hire to pose as guards, led by an older actor named Kit. Eventually, plans go awry and the caravan is diverted to another city where the characters have to find new ways to keep themselves and the bank’s wealth safe. The book weaves among several third-person points of view, most often focusing on Wester, Cithrin, Geder, and Dawson, with a few others (such as Clara and a character who appears in the prologue).
The Dragon’s Path shares many of the same qualities that made The Long Price Quartet so good while working in a very different, and somewhat more conventional, type of fantasy story. The first of these qualities is excellent characterization. The two displaying the biggest growth are Geder and Cithrin, both of whom need to find new strengths within themselves as they are thrust into unfamiliar and dangerous new roles. Both begin in relatively weak positions: Geder is made a pawn of the political machinations around him while Cithrin has been a protected ward of the bank and has yet to come into her legal age. Rather than simply take us on the usual coming-of-age journey, however, Abraham throws a few twists at us, taking both characters into places we don’t expect them to go, and not such glorious places either. Even better is how their maturations take place in two wholly different worlds: Geder in the political and militaristic and Cithrin in the world of economics (yes, economics).
Wester grows in quieter, more subtle ways, struggling with the changing dynamics of his relationship with Cithrin and a heavy grief he’s carried with him for years. Kit, meanwhile, doesn’t really change so much as is gradually revealed. The same is true for Dawson’s wife Clara. Dawson, on the other hand, as one might expect from an ultraconservative, doesn’t change at all, even when change might be wiser than the path chosen. One of the more fascinating aspects of the book in fact is how the point of view puts the reader at odds with him or herself. As readers, one has a tendency to identify with the point-of-view character. Yet Dawson is just about the antithesis of all modern political thought: a man who will die to keep the poor in their place and the rich in theirs, not simply because he benefits personally from it but because it’s “right.” He rails against the new restrictions on slavery and worries the “rabble” may “choose to champion themselves.” He is almost the epitome of the sneering, condescending lord we all love to hate when our POV character works against him. But here he is front and center as the POV character – what’s a reader to do? Without spoiling things, I’ll say that Dawson is not the only character Abraham plays this game with, and its one of the most intriguing and compelling aspects of the novel.
The side characters vary in their depth and range, but none do a disservice to the reading experience. The prose makes for truly effortless reading — clean, tight, efficient without being monotone, with sharp dialogue. I’d say it is less stylized and elegant than The Long Price Quartet, though it has its moments, as when he describes how a city has outgrown its ancient battlements: “The architecture of war slept in the middle of a living community like a great hunting cat torpid from the kill.”
The plot is, hmmm, perhaps Abrahamesque is the word? It’s certainly more conventional than The Long Price Quartet, but it shares with that series a slow pace, quiet action, character-driven scenes, a focus on personal introspection and relationship, and a preference for political and economic maneuvering rather than sweeping military action. Abraham dispenses with “classic” fantasy scenes such as battles or journey-quests either super-speedily or in unexpected fashion. And magic — an obvious fantasy trope — is even more understated here than in his first series, which is saying something. There is magic, but like most aspects of Abraham’s style, it is a quieter version than we’re used to and comes in small, sharp moments (though we have hints it will perhaps be reentering the world in larger fashion).
I should emphasize here that “understated” and “quiet” are not euphemisms for “dull.” I read The Dragon’s Path in a single sitting, reading well into the night. Truth is, I find Abraham’s depiction of conspiracies and economic repercussions, as well as his parsimonious use of magic, to be more compelling than many a fantasy novel filled with “epic” battles and “wizardly fire.”
Finally, I’ll add that while I wouldn’t say TheDragon’s Path has flaws, in that nothing really detracted from the reading experience, it does have aspects that aren’t as strong as its good qualities. I can’t say I had a great feel for the thirteen human races; they seemed to blend in or blur. Part of me assumes we’ll delve more into them as the series continues, so this isn’t such a big deal. And part of me wonders if it matters much; that the fact they’re simply “there” just makes for a more realistic feel to the story, rather than giving the reader a “tour” of the Kooky Krazy Fantasy Races. In either case, as I said, it never bothered me or took me out of the story. The same holds true for a sense of culture: food, religion, etc. He has one scene where a character recalls a city he’d overwintered in: “There’s a lake in the middle of the city, and the whole time we were there, you could cross it anywhere. There’s a winter city they build on the ice every year. Houses and taverns and all. Like a real town.” I would have loved more of those kinds of details, as well as more on the races, but as there’s a lot of story left to come, I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt on this and assume we will see more in both areas. (That scene, by the way, with the speaker teaching Cithrin how to ice skate, is one of those small but beautiful moments between characters that Abraham does so well.)
In the end, The Dragon’s Path impresses nearly as much as The Long Price Quartet and I can’t wait to see where this goes. (One does need to wait; unlike that first series this book doesn’t end with a clear resolution. It isn’t a cliffhanger, but the story is in the middle.) This one will be hard to push off that Year’s Favorite list. Highly recommended. —Bill Capossere
The Dragon’s Path
CLASSIFICATION: Influenced by the likes of Alexandre Dumas, George R.R. Martin, Joss Whedon, J.R.R. Tolkien, and J. Michael Straczynski among others, The Dagger and the Coin is Daniel Abraham’s take on traditional epic fantasy. Regarding The Dragon’s Path specifically, the novel brought to mind elements of GRRM’s A Song of Ice and Fire, Adrian Tchaikovsky’s Shadows of the Apt, and Abraham’s very own Long Price Quartet, minus the melodrama and Oriental-flavored setting.
FORMAT/INFO: The Dragon’s Path is 592 pages long divided over a Prologue, an Entr'acte, and 45 chapters with each chapter designated by the name of a main character. Also includes a Map, an Interview with Daniel Abraham, and an excerpt from The King’s Blood, the second volume in The Dagger and the Coin. Narration is in the third person via Captain Marcus Wester; Geder Palliako; Cithrin Bel Sarcour; Dawson Kalliam, the Baron of Osterling Fells; Dawson’s wife, Clara Annalie Kalliam; and the Apostate. The Dragon’s Path is the first volume in The Dagger and the Coin — a projected five-volume series. April 7, 2011/April 21, 2011 marks the North American/UK Trade Paperback publication of The Dragon’s Path via Orbit Books.
ANALYSIS: There are many reasons why I’m such a huge fan of Daniel Abraham’s writing, but the quality I most admire about the author is his versatility. Fantasy, science fiction, superheroes, urban fantasy, multi-volume series, standalone novels, short fiction, collaborations with other authors, shared worlds, mosaic novels, comic books... Daniel Abraham has taken on all of these different formats and subgenres and done so successfully. Daniel Abraham can now add traditional epic fantasy to his resume with The Dagger and the Coin, a promising new series kicked off by The Dragon’s Path...
In The Dragon’s Path, Daniel Abraham introduces readers to a secondary world once ruled by dragons, but is now populated by thirteen different races of humanity: Firstblood, Cinnae, Tralgu, Southling, Timzinae, Yemmu, Haunadam, Dartinae, Kurtadam, Jasuru, Raushadam, Haaverkin and the Drowned. Unfortunately, world-building was never one of Daniel Abraham’s strong suits, and it continues to be a weakness in The Dragon’s Path, especially regarding the thirteen races of humanity. At first, I was intrigued by the different races and hoped they would bring something new to the table the way Adrian Tchaikovsky’s Insect-Kinden does in the Shadows of the Apt. However, so little information is provided about the races over the course of the novel that I never even got a sense of how these races differed from one another apart from superficial traits — the Cinnae are “reed-thin” and “snow-pale”; the Tralgu have “hound-like ears”; Kurtadam possess “oily, bead-adorned fur”; Jasuru are “bronze-scaled” with pointed teeth; Timzinae are “chitinous”; the Yemmu have jaw tusks; Dartinae are “glow-eyed” and “hairless”; etc. — let alone finding anything that actually added value or uniqueness to the book. Thankfully, Daniel Abraham has posted a taxonomy on the different races which is much more informational, although it would have been better if the information had been included in the novel itself.
Compounding the world-building problem is the novel’s lack of history, religion, mythology, etc. You would think with thirteen races to choose from, The Dragon’s Path would be rich with diverse cultures, religious beliefs and myths, but that’s not the case. Not only does the author focus primarily on Firstbloods — the clay “from which all humanity arose” — but the kingdom of Antea with its nobles and court politics is disappointingly familiar, while religion, history and mythology hardly factor in the novel at all. There’s also very little magic in the book, which I’m okay with except what magic can be found in The Dragon’s Path is unimaginative and a little boring — being able to determine truth from lies and bending a person’s will in a manner akin to the Force.
World-building issues aside, there’s a lot to like about The Dragon’s Path starting with the characters. At first glance, Captain Marcus Wester, Geder Palliako, Cithrin Bel Sarcour and Dawson Kalliam seem like conventional fantasy stereotypes — there’s the veteran soldier haunted by his past, the pudgy noble ridiculed for his incompetence and the “roundness of his belly”, the young orphan who is coming of age, and the loyal noble who believes in traditionalism — but there’s much more to these characters than initial appearances. Especially Geder and Cithrin, the two most fascinating individuals in the novel. The former because of his unpredictability and the dangerous tightrope he walks between good and evil. The latter because of her unique skills as a banker and the trials endured on her journey to adulthood. And both of them because of their remarkable transformations from the characters introduced at the beginning of the book to the very different individuals found at the end of the novel.
Clara Annalie Kalliam, Dawson Kalliam’s wife, is another fascinating character even though she only has two chapters in the book, but hopefully she will receive more face time in the sequel. On the opposite side of the coin, Marcus Wester and Dawson Kalliam are the novel’s weakest characters, offering the least amount of growth and development, but even they have their redeeming qualities. Marcus for example, has a very complicated, but intriguing relationship with Cithrin, while Dawson is portrayed as a good guy even though his traditional beliefs seem outdated and misguided. Then there’s the Apostate who is largely a mystery, but factors heavily in the book as a supporting character. The rest of the supporting cast is shallow and one-dimensional, but my biggest complaint is how all of the main characters are Firstbloods apart from the half-Cinnae Cithrin. As a whole though, characterization is definitely an area of strength in The Dragon’s Path, much the way it was in Daniel Abraham’s The Long Price Quartet.
Story-wise, The Dragon’s Path is full of recognizable fantasy tropes like a caravan, bandits, an acting troupe, a girl disguised as a boy, king’s hunts, duels, a seer, prophecy, coups, etc., while the politics and intrigue of Antea’s court reminded me of GRRM’s A Song of Ice and Fire. Yet for all of its familiarity, the story is still a compelling one, highlighted by unpredictable twists and interesting subplots like the one involving Cithrin, the Medean Bank and economics. At the same time, the story is stamped with Daniel Abraham’s own unique personality — methodical pacing, the swift passage of time, drama emphasized over action, self-contained subplots — all elements that can be found in the author’s Long Price Quartet. The bigger picture meanwhile remains a mystery after The Dragon’s Path is over, but no doubt it will involve the spider goddess, the Apostate and the Medean Bank. Hopefully it will also involve more of the thirteen races of humanity, and perhaps even the dragons — or at least their legacy — will have a larger role to play in future volumes.
As far as the writing, Daniel Abraham’s prose is more straightforward and less elegant than it was in The Long Price Quartet, but the author’s performance overall remains skilled and polished, led of course by Abraham’s characterization and clever plotting.
CONCLUSION: The Dragon’s Path may suffer from shallow world-building and concepts that are underutilized like the thirteen different races of humanity, but because of main characters who are interesting and well-developed and a story that consistently surprises despite its familiarity, The Dragon’s Path is a very solid start to Daniel Abraham’s new fantasy series, The Dagger and the Coin. A series that I believe possesses the potential to appeal to a wide range of readers, including fans of traditional epic fantasy, fantasy that challenges the genre's conventions, and Daniel Abraham’s own particular brand of fantasy. From a personal standpoint, I did not find The Dragon’s Path as engrossing as A Shadow In Summer, the opening volume in Daniel Abraham’s The Long Price Quartet. However, considering how much The Long Price Quartet improved as the series progressed, I’m confident that The Dagger and the Coin will follow a similar trajectory, and excitedly look forward to experiencing the rest of Daniel Abraham’s ambitious new saga as it unfolds. —Robert Thompson
The Dragon’s Path
Daniel Abraham is a very busy writer. Under the pen name M.L.N. Hanover, he is writing a series of excellent urban fantasies about Jayné Heller, a young woman who has inherited a dubious way of life from her uncle. As James S.A. Corey, he and Ty Franck are writing a space opera series. Under his own name, Abraham broke into publishing in 2006 with the Long Price Quartet, a refreshingly nontraditional fantasy series set in a world with an Asian flavor. Now Abraham has embarked on a more traditional series entitled The Dagger and the Coin, the first book of which is The Dragon’s Path.
The Dragon’s Path is set in a vaguely western European milieu, complete with kings and castles and squabbling nobles. It also partakes of the ruthlessness of the viewpoint characters in the work of writers like Joe Abercrombie and Richard Morgan. Yet The Dragon’s Path is its own creature, resonating with the fantasy genre but playing its own chord. So, for instance, one of the principal characters is a dreamy intellectual, a feckless soldier, and a brutal ruler, and somehow Abraham makes them all blend seamlessly into a single complicated man, one the reader will simultaneously love and hate. Abraham makes this character’s motivations completely understandable, even while reprehensible. It’s a terrific job of characterization.
The frame for the tale is about an apostate from the religion of a spider god, but for the bulk of the book the introduction seems to belong to a different novel. Instead, we are first introduced to Captain Marcus Wester, an honorable military man who was once a hero but now takes on work as hired security. He has a problem: he’s been hired to guard a caravan, but doesn’t have sufficient men to do the job. He finds a solution in a traveling troupe of actors, who can act as security personnel as well as they can act as kings, queens, lovers and enemies.
Next we meet Sir Geder Palliako, Heir of the Viscount of Rivenhalm, who is the complicated man discussed above. He is such a dreamy intellectual when we meet him that he is easily pranked by his fellow soldiers, who decide he needs some toughening up — and particularly, therefore, needs his books taken away from him. You can goad a man only so far, though, and we get the first big hints of Geder’s resentment, which leads to his cruelty, in these first few pages with him.
Cithrin Bel Sarcour, Ward of the Medean Bank, is one of the few female characters with an active role in this novel. She is young and untested, but about to be subject to very difficult times — and rise to the occasion, at that. Her introduction is followed by a chapter about Dawson Kalliam, Baron of Osterling Fells, who is at least as complicated as Palliako. He is written in many ways as a petty man of petty jealousies, but also as a king’s confidant with only the king’s interests at heart. He is ruthless but fair, loves his lands, his son and his wife (who is one of the smart, strong women who populate this book, though mostly in the background), and plays politics with a relish that seems designed more to create havoc than to fix problems.
These characters come together and break apart again in many ways throughout the course of the novel, like a tapestry being partially unraveled and rewoven, making new patterns appear that weren’t obvious from the start. Geder is used and uses; Cithrin takes advantage of an opportunity; Dawson manipulates the king, but only for the king’s own good. Each character acts in his or her own self-interest, and none seems to understand what he or she is creating out of the other individuals that slip in and out of their lives. These characters grow and change in the course of this book. Most chillingly, the spiders we read about in the introduction start to play a huge, though still partially hidden, role as the novel goes on. Will the kingdom survive, or fall to the squabbles of petty nobles? Will the Medean Bank be destroyed, and Cithrin along with it? Will Geder outgrow his naivete and use his brains for something practical, or will he be mired in his dreams and resentments? What are the interests of the spider god? These questions are unresolved at the close of this first book in Abraham’s series, but the concerns of all the characters seem poised to grow larger and ready to deal with a more cataclysmic threat in the forthcoming second book, The King’s Blood. The Dragon’s Path is a promising beginning to a promising series, with characters written to be far more real than the usual archetype. You’ll turn the last page looking forward to more.
—Terry Weyna
As M.L.N Hanover:
The Black Sun's Daughter — (2008-2011) Publisher: In a world where magic walks and demons ride, you can't always play by the rules. Jayné Heller thinks of herself as a realist, until she discovers reality isn't quite what she thought it was. When her uncle Eric is murdered, Jayné travels to Denver to settle his estate, only to learn that it's all hers — and vaster than she ever imagined. And along with properties across the world and an inexhaustible fortune, Eric left her a legacy of a different kind: his unfinished business with a cabal of wizards known as the Invisible College. Led by the ruthless Randolph Coin, the Invisible College harnesses demon spirits for their own ends of power and domination. Jayné finds it difficult to believe magic and demons can even exist, let alone be responsible for the death of her uncle. But Coin sees Eric's heir as a threat to be eliminated by any means — magical or mundane — so Jayné had better start believing in something to save her own life. Aided in her mission by a group of unlikely companions — Aubrey, Eric's devastatingly attractive assistant; Ex, a former Jesuit with a lethal agenda; Midian, a two-hundred-year-old man who claims to be under a curse from Randolph Coin himself; and Chogyi Jake, a self-styled Buddhist with mystical abilities — Jayné finds that her new reality is not only unexpected, but often unexplainable. And if she hopes to survive, she'll have to learn the new rules fast — or break them completely...
Unclean Spirits
Jayné Heller is feeling pretty alone in the world. She's estranged from her intolerant family. She has just dropped out of college, and her friends have moved on without her. The only dependable person left in her life is her black-sheep uncle Eric … and he's just been murdered.
When Jayné travels to Denver to settle Eric's accounts, she learns two things:
1. Eric was filthy rich and left it all to her.
2. He was killed by Randolph Coin, an evil magician.
Jayné is not so sure she believes in this magic stuff, but she knows Coin and his goons are bad news, and she reassembles Eric's evil-fighting team to deal with the situation.
M.L.N. Hanover does some interesting world-building here. In this universe, most supernatural nasties (vampires, werewolves, many magicians) are created by means of possession. A spirit from another plane, called a rider, takes over a human body and uses it for its own ends. Some characters see this through the lens of religion and think of it as demon possession; others come from a scientific background and view it as a parasitic relationship. It's implied that both are valid ways of looking at it. There’s also a hint of Qabalistic cosmology that I found fascinating, and I hope to learn more about how it works as The Black Sun’s Daughter series continues.
As for Jayné’s new friends and colleagues, the characterization is a little thin. I loved Midian, and eventually grew to like another of the guys, but for the most part, they’re not as fleshed out as I’d have liked. I’m not sure how much of this is intentional. For example, there’s one character that I thought I was supposed to like, but I kept hoping Hanover would develop him a little more, because as it was, he reminded me of an ex-boyfriend of mine who was lying by omission about something really important. Turns out the character had a very similar secret, and so I wonder if I was picking up on an evasiveness that was intentionally written into the character. It may be that the characters who remain ciphers will turn out, later in the series, to be concealing big secrets.
The “let’s go kill Coin” plot is pretty simple and without twists. Also, it felt like the magic worked when it was convenient to the plot, and failed when that was convenient to the plot, rather than flowing naturally from the internal logic of Hanover’s universe.
The real story here, though, is Jayné’s growth from burnout to badass. I really liked her voice. Hanover did a great job of writing a young woman, filled with doubts and feeling adrift, then coming into her own.
Unclean Spirits is a quick, fun read. Jayné’s character development is compelling, and the humorous dialogue keeps things from getting too heavy. I look forward to Darker Angels. —Kelly Lasiter
Unclean Spirits
In his short time as a published author, Daniel Abraham has displayed impressive range including his unique Asian-influenced fantasy series The Long Price Quartet, coauthoring a science fiction novel, penning an awarding-winning horror short story as well as an economic fairy tale, and tackling superheroes in both comic book and mosaic novel format. Now with Unclean Spirits, Daniel Abraham — under the pseudonym M.L.N. Hanover — takes on urban fantasy ... with mixed results.
Unclean Spirits starts out impressively enough with a brief, but engaging, Introduction that offers readers a tantalizing glimpse into the world of riders — or ‘unclean spirits’ (spiritual parasites that have magical powers and take over peoples’ bodies) and continues to impress with Jayné’s (pronounced zha-nay) likeable narrative voice and spunky attitude, the story’s fast pacing, and some wonderful first impressions like Jayné’s first meeting with the 200-year-old cursed Midian Clark and a pulse-pounding encounter with a group of demon assassins. Unfortunately, after the main players — Aubrey, Ex and Choygi Jake — are introduced and the main plotline established, which involved taking out the leader of the Invisible College, Randolph Coin, the book starts to lose its luster.
For one, the plot involving the assassination of Randolph Coin is incredibly simplistic. In a nutshell, Coin is connected to a lot of bad stuff that has happened over the centuries — including Midian’s curse — and killing him “would undo everything it’s done in the physical world.” So with that in mind, Unclean Spirits mainly follows Jayné and her new colleagues as they try to come up with a plan to kill Coin and successfully execute that plan. That’s pretty much it. No clever misdirection, no shocking surprises, and no engaging subplots to complement the story.
Compounding the problem is a number of additional issues, one being the vastly underdeveloped and one-dimensional villains. Another is how little information is provided about riders, the Pleroma, the Invisible College and other supernatural aspects that show up in the book. Worst of all though is how the novel’s storyline and paranormal elements take a backseat to uninteresting television-like drama such as Jayné’s complicated attraction to Aubrey, Jayné’s identity/confidence crisis, Midian not being who he said he is, Ex’s responsibility issues and so on.
Now there’s nothing wrong with adding a little drama to a story. Every urban fantasy series has some, and it adds depth and personality to the characters. It’s just with this case, there was a bit too much drama going on and not enough story, action, and the paranormal. As a result, Unclean Spirits felt like one really long prologue or TV show pilot where not much happens aside from establishing characters and setting up a few basic plotlines to be continued.
So, between the novel’s energetic pacing, Jayné’s undeniable charm, and the intriguing concept behind the riders, Unclean Spirits is a solid entry in the urban fantasy genre. It is also a flawed entry with unrealized potential. But with a more even balance of drama, story and action, a greater emphasis on the paranormal, and perhaps a little more edge, I think the next Black Sun’s Daughter novel could be something special. —Robert Thompson
Darker Angels
My inner curmudgeon nearly set Darker Angels aside at about the halfway point. "I don't get this book!" said the curmudgeon. "The voodoo's all wrong. Legba isn't an evil serial killer! The good guys' plan doesn't quite add up, and is pretty unethical besides. And the interpersonal drama just ate the plot for lunch!"
"Sit down and shut up," said M.L.N. Hanover. "I'm telling a story here."
OK, so I've never met M.L.N. Hanover, and he didn't literally say that, but he might as well have. Because just as I was about to give up on Darker Angels, he threw in some twists that made me realize I was looking at it all wrong.
I must have been led astray by the extremely linear plot of Unclean Spirits. I was expecting this plot to be similar in structure, and so I wasn't asking the right questions. I shouldn’t have been asking, "What did Hanover do wrong?" I should have been asking, "What might be going on within the plot to cause all these things to happen?" I think I also forgot that Jayné, despite being a narrator whose voice I really enjoy, is not a perfectly reliable narrator. She has biases and blind spots, and she doesn't understand everything she experiences. Jayné's preconceived notions got in the way of solving the mystery — and so did mine.
Darker Angels is much less linear than Unclean Spirits, and it's much better for it. The plot revolves around a voodoo spirit who manipulates its hosts into committing horrific murders. Jayné is hired by former FBI agent Karen Black, an acquaintance of her late uncle's, to help stop this spirit from killing a young girl. We visit New Orleans and see both the destruction left over from Katrina and the tenacity of its residents. The plot is full of great twists. Hanover yanked the rug out from under my feet at one point, and maybe I should have seen it coming, but I didn't. It's when the pieces start to fall into place that you realize just how carefully Hanover set them up.
I really enjoyed Darker Angels and I think it's safe to say I'm hooked on The Black Sun's Daughter. Jayné continues to be a delight; she's no master strategist, but she has a lot of compassion, and she has more courage than she thinks she does. And to heck with the inner curmudgeon. By the end, this had become a "set the alarm early so you can read before work" kind of book, and I finished it with a smile on my face and maybe a few tears in my eyes. —Kelly Lasiter
Vicious Grace
Have you ever been in one of those cobbled-together buildings where the 1st floor of the original structure opens onto the 3rd floor of the new wing, and you can only access the fourth floor by a staircase at the far end of that older building that got swallowed up into the whole mass at some point, and so on? I work in one, and after reading Vicious Grace, I don’t think I’ll ever see it the same way again! (Gee, thanks, M.L.N. Hanover, for making me scared of my own office building. *g*)
Vicious Grace is the third in Hanover’s urban fantasy series The Black Sun’s Daughter. This one’s set in Chicago, at labyrinthine Grace Memorial Hospital, where a sleep researcher has noticed an eerie anomaly in his latest study: all of his subjects have had the same dream of an inhuman creature crawling out of a coffin. Jayné Heller and her team are called in to help. Conveniently, Jayné’s uncle Eric left her a condo in the city, and the gang settles in to investigate.
They uncover a ghastly history, the tendrils of which reach more intimately into Jayné’s own life than she’d have ever guessed. What she learns leads her to question everything she thought she knew, and she faces some harrowing moral choices that reveal less-than-admirable facets of her personality. There’s so little I can say without spoiling the best parts of the story, but Hanover makes gutsy plotting decisions that change the reader’s perception of the whole series.
Add in huge helpings of suspense, plus plenty of character development. In particular, we see more of Ex and Chogyi Jake and how their respective faiths shape their actions. There’s also some romantic drama. Jayné is worried about losing Aubrey to Kim, and the feelings of all three characters are realistically and sympathetically portrayed.
Vicious Grace is a chilling novel on two levels: the external horror of the haunted hospital, and the internal horror in Jayné’s mind as she considers the uses — and abuses — of the power she has inherited from Eric. I couldn’t put it down. You’ll want to read Unclean Spirits and Darker Angels first (otherwise the impact of this installment won’t be as great), but Vicious Grace is the best of the series so far.
—Kelly Lasiter
Vicious Grace M.L.N. Hanover’s urban fantasy series, The Black Sun’s Daughter, gets better with every new book. Vicious Grace is the third book in the series (which is intended to last for ten books). It is an exciting, well-written example of what urban fantasy can be at its very best.
Jayné Heller remains one of the realest heroines there is in all of fantasy literature; but best of all, she continues to grow and change. She faces difficult problems head on — and not just the types of problems you expect a heroine to face, the kind that require physical prowess against a known enemy, but personal issues that are far more difficult even to acknowledge, much less resolve. She loses a great deal personally in Vicious Grace, and stands to lose even more as the book ends.
Vicious Grace takes place in Chicago, mostly within the halls of Grace Memorial Hospital, which resembles Cook County Hospital, the charity hospital on the West Side of the city (though the book is careful to differentiate its fictional hospital from Grace Memorial by stating that the two are several miles apart). Grace Memorial is an odd building architecturally; it is extremely easy to get lost in its confines, much more than should be the case absent some fantastical agency at work. There is a dream study going on at Grace Memorial, and it is turning up some very strange results. Specifically, dreamers in the study are dreaming the exact same dream at the exact same time.
Kim — the ex-wife of Aubrey, Jayné’s sweetheart — is called in to look at the study results, which the senior researcher fears are going to ruin him. Kim was heard to say something about her belief in “spirits” at a Christmas party once, and never lived it down, but the researcher remembers and asks for her help. Kim calls Jayné, and she and her group — including Aubrey, Chogyi Jake, and Ex, a former Jesuit priest — head for Chicago.
Unpleasant discoveries await the group at almost every turn. There is much that is not as Jayné thought it was, from the character of her beloved Uncle Eric to the relationship between Kim and Aubrey to the very condominium in Chicago she inherited from Eric. As all of this character and historical development is going on, the evil at Grace Memorial is growing and becoming ever more dangerous. The group has to move quickly, and at considerable personal danger — the worst danger they have faced yet.
But the goings-on at Grace Memorial seem oddly beside the point relative to Jayné’s own discovery and growth. And, in fact, it’s what is going on in Jayné’s head that’s the fascinating part of this book. There are few characters in fantasy that have grown up quite so much in the course of three books, and looked so hard at things that are hard to look at. Indeed, few fantasies have Hanover’s habit of changing everything with every book in a series. Hanover continually pulls the rug out from under Jayné’s feet, and she’s dancing as fast as she can just to stay upright. Most people would crumble under this sort of pressure — pressure on all sides, emotionally, physically, psychically — but Jayné keeps going, guided by an internal moral compass that doesn’t ever seem to lead her astray. And yet, Hanover manages to keep Jayné feeling like a real person, not a superhero. It’s an impressive achievement for an urban fantasy, and makes for compelling reading.
Readers would be well advised to begin this series at the beginning, with Darker Angels, followed by Unclean Spirits. Fortunately, they are both as thoroughly enjoyable and well-written as Vicious Grace.
—Terry Weyna
Killing Rites
M.L.N. Hanover’s series, THE BLACK SUN’S DAUGHTER, gets better with every book. The latest, Killing Rites, advances the story of Jayné Heller’s growth, but it also continues to build the world in which she operates. Metaphysical questions about the existence of God and the nature of the demons start to become integral to Heller’s life. Furthermore, Hanover refuses to ever take the easy way out, always choosing the most difficult — and most interesting — plot twists over the development that a reader in the urban fantasy genre would expect. Hanover’s decision to always up the ante makes this one of the best series in the field today.
As Killing Rites opens, Jayné is attempting to deal with her realization at the end of Vicious Grace, the third novel in the series, that she has a “rider” — a demon who lives in her body with her. This demon has been nothing but good to Jayné, saving her life by taking control of her body whenever Jayné is threatened. But still, Jayné’s rider is a demon, and Jayné’s body is not entirely her own. (Kudos to Hanover for refusing the easy out with a conclusion that Jayné’s rider is an angel, not a demon; Hanover makes this refusal of the simplest explanation explicit.) Jayné has sought the help of Ex, a former priest who is one of her small “family” of demon fighters, to rid her of her rider. Ex takes her to New Mexico, where the group of exorcists with whom he had previously been affiliated (that is, before he left the Catholic priesthood) continues its work.
Jayné and Ex meet with Father Chapin, Ex’s mentor while he was in the priesthood and now the leader of the group of exorcists. He essentially refuses to help Jayné, at least just yet. Instead, he instructs Ex to have her see a psychiatrist to ensure that she is mentally healthy, as sometimes insanity can masquerade as possession. Ex is forced to admit that there’s a good possibility that Jayné is at least “shell-shocked,” as he puts it, given her sheltered childhood and the huge surprises she has encountered since her uncle died, leaving her all his enormous wealth. The fact that Jayné has just nailed a living man into a coffin, using the palms of her hands as hammers while he screamed and pleaded with her to stop, hasn’t helped matters. In fact, Jayné has been having horrific nightmares ever since, and Ex has been watching over her. Ex’s own feelings are also involved, as he yearns after Jayné.
But Jayné won’t have anything to do with the idea of a psychiatrist. She and Ex instead go to the priests’ sanctuary, arriving while the priests are in the middle of exorcising an Akkadian wind demon from a 10-year-old girl. The wind demon gets loose, and Jayné’s demon makes a dramatic appearance by saving the day. Father Chapin is forced to admit that Jayné has a rider. Given that the wind demon has been handily dispatched, it is possible for the priests to turn to Jayné’s problems, and they begin an exorcism.
And that’s where things start getting really complicated. Jayné learns the name of her demon: “I am Sonnenrad, the Voice of the Desert. … I am the Black Sun and the Black Sun’s daughter,” it proclaims. Now we know why this series is called “The Black Sun’s Daughter,” but we don’t know much more about this demon (even Wikipedia isn’t a big help, though it does suggest that Sonnenrad is a symbol of Germanic paganism adopted by the Nazis). And we don’t learn a great deal more about the nature of the beast, even as the priests labor to rid Jayné of it, even as Jayné seemingly changes her mind about whether getting rid of her rider is really the right thing to do. It doesn’t take long before the story becomes one in which Jayné ducks the priests in order to rid a child of a demon with the vigorous and necessary help of her own demon, work that eventually circles back to once again involve the priests.
Killing Rites is full of action at the same time that it is full of ideas and religious quandaries. Hanover meshes all these plot elements beautifully, creating a story that leaves one both hyped by the physicality of the plot (the demon possessing the child is described in a great bit of detail, making one want to wash one’s hands, if not shower for a good long time, after reading about it) and intrigued by the mystery of Jayné’s demon. And the thinking reader is forced to consider whether complete faith and absolute certainty are ever appropriate — a question that eats at the heart of every thinking person’s philosophy of how to live his or her life, how to approach his or her God, and even whether God exists.
Good and evil are sometimes hard to differentiate. Now there’s a theme worthy of a series.
—Terry Weyna
As James S.A. Corey (with Ty Franck): moved to a new page.
Story Collection
Leviathan Wept: And Other Stories — (2010) A short story collection. Publisher: What if you had a holocaust and nobody came?
Imagine a father who has sent his child's soul voyaging and seen it go astray. Or a backyard tale from the 1001 American Nights. Macbeth re-imagined as a screwball comedy. Three extraordinary economic tasks performed by a small expert in currency exchange that risk first career and then life and then soul.
From the disturbing beauty of 'Flat Diane' (Nebula-nominee, International Horror Guild award-winner) to the idiosyncratic vision of 'The Cambist and Lord Iron' (Hugo- and World Fantasy-nominee), Daniel Abraham has been writing some of the most enjoyable and widely admired short fiction in the genre for over a decade.
Ranging from high fantasy to hard science fiction, screwball comedy to gut-punching tragedy, Daniel Abraham's stories never fail to be intelligent, compassionate, thoughtful, and humane. Leviathan Wept and Other Stories is the first collection of his short works, including selections from both the well-known and the rare.
Leviathan Wept: And Other Stories
Leviathan Wept is a collection of short fiction by Daniel Abraham, author of The Long Price Quartet, one of my favorite fantasy epics of the past several years. I’ll admit up front that I’m not usually gung ho about story collections. I find they tend to be uneven just as part of their nature (i.e., it’s hard to get a collection of all excellent stories) and I just have a personal preference for the depth and richness of the novelistic form versus the short form. That confession said, how does Leviathan Wept stack up against my admitted bias? Actually, surprisingly well.
There are only nine stories in Leviathan Wept (though they tend to be long so it’s still nearly 300 pages) and while I don’t know if Daniel Abraham has only written nine stories, or if he has a whole pile of them, the effect of such a small number is that he seemed to be pretty selective, meaning that while some are better than others, none are weak. And there are none I’d categorize as “bad,” a rarity in my experience with story collections and anthologies.
The title story is a fascinating look at one of a number of anti-terrorist groups (I love that they refer to themselves as “cells”) who are visually all linked in to one another. The story asks some big questions about large-scale consciousness, but I found the “big” question less interesting than the smaller details of the interactions among the cell, their methods, and the effect the job is having on them.
“The Cambist and Lord Iron: A Fairy Tale of Economics” is exactly what it says, as a currency exchange agent finds himself in the toying spotlight of the frightfully notorious Lord Iron. Abraham hits most of the fairytale tropes here: the number three, deadlines, a judging, but the economic points being made add a thoughtful slant of depth while the story and characters take some nice twists and turns while the language, style, and tone (along with the ending) remain faithfully fairytale.
“Flat Diane” is a complete change in tone, turning much grimmer. A recently divorced dad traces an outline of his young daughter and then sends it out into the world (to family members) to “travel.” The fantastical enters when a connection begins to appear between the flat and real Dianes and the fantastic turns to horror when a strange man begins sending lewd photos of himself and Flat Diane and the acts depicted in them start to affect real Diane as if she were actually there. The metaphor here — the fears of a parent “sending” their child “out into the world” is no less effective for its simplicity and obviousness, though the story seemed to suffer from being too short.
“Exclusion” is another story whose emotional impact is perhaps slighted somewhat by the story being too short, but the concept — a new technology which allows people to “exclude” anyone from their perception (cutting off your brother means you literally can’t see him if he’s in the room with you) — is a great set-up and if the point is a bit obvious, it still makes for thoughtful consideration. Having one of his characters go on a “de-excluding” tour, where he basically has to find those he’s excluded and apologize, was a great touch that added some needed humor while fleshing out the concept.
“The Curandero and the Swede” is a nested story, with a young man taking his fiancée home to his conservative family. Uncle Dab takes issue with the boy’s response to how the two met (“one thing led to another”) and launches into a series of surreal stories layered one into another, all of them dealing with the “other” American (a black, a Native-American, a “queer” and so on) as well as with underlying themes of vengeance, loss, and America. The tale also has a lot to do with the power of story and storytelling, something it handles perhaps a bit more subtly.
“A Hunter in Arin-Qin” starts off as a seemingly straightforward tale of a mother hunting the beast who took her daughter, but spins off in somewhat unexpected directions. Its biggest strength is perhaps the voice of its main character, a haunting consistent voice that carries a lot of quiet emotion.
The other three stories, “Best Monkey,” “The Support-Technician Tango,” and “As Sweet” were mostly solidly enjoyable, but I can’t say they stuck in my mind for any amount of time, either due to their characters, underlying concepts, or themes. And while several of my favorite stories felt too short, a compliment to how compelling they were, these three felt a bit too long, even if they took up fewer pages.
Daniel Abraham’s Long Price Quartet is one of the best reads of the past several years for me. Its stylistic strengths of tight composition — strong precise prose, good pace, consistent and easy-to-get-into voicing — are all evident in these stories, even the weaker ones. The major strength of his novels — the deeply rich characterization — isn’t quite so present, partly as a result of the short form and partly because it seems some of the stories are carried more by their concepts than their characters (with the exception of “The Cambist,” “A Hunter,” and the title story, where the characters come more fully alive and are more compelling).
Varying in style, tone, voice, and genre, almost every story is consistently entertaining (only “As Sweet” failed to reach that bar for me) while the better ones are thought-provoking or elicit a strong emotional impact. The best stories do both. I can’t say that Leviathan Wept bowled me over like Daniel Abraham’s novels did, but that’s probably more due to my personal preference for the long form rather than to any fault of Abraham’s short fiction. Leviathan Wept is recommended. —Bill Capossere
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Unclean Spirits
Unclean Spirits
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