 The Warded Man
 Peter V. Brett’s The Warded Man, published in the UK as The Painted Man, is the best fantasy debut I’ve read since Patrick Rothfuss’s. This book had me reading well into the night, and it is, to use a very hackneyed phrase, a real page-turner.
The Warded Man grabbed me right from the start. The plot is loaded with action and balanced by plenty of character development, but it’s relatively straightforward, and I found this a refreshing change from the sweeping, complex epics that I normally read. Also, Brett employs a nice twist or two that you don’t expect. The prose is strong and shows talent, and the dialogue is perfectly suited to the setting.
The Warded Man is set in a world where humans can only go outside in daylight. When the sun goes down, demons rise from a mysterious netherworld called the Core. (We know little about this Core, though there is some interesting foreshadowing toward the end of the book.) Nothing can stop demons but written, painted, or carved wards placed on houses, barns, sheds, fences, set into the walls of a city, or placed on poles in farmers’ fields.
These wards have kept human civilization from total collapse, but the nightly demon attacks prevent civilization from advancing. Their religion teaches that human society was strong and scientifically advanced until they forgot about the First Demon War and committed the sin of pride, believing only in themselves. When the demons returned, they virtually wiped out humanity before the defensive wards were rediscovered and put into use. The ancient attack wards, however, have not been rediscovered, so the demons can only be held at bay, not defeated.
There are three coming-of-age stories in the first half of the book and personal responsibility and dealing with the demons in one’s own heart are major themes in each character’s development. Arlen, a young farm-boy, becomes a warrior-Messenger — those brave souls who travel from town to town with nothing but a portable warded circle to protect them at night. Arlen is obsessed with finding a way to defeat the demons, and that obsession costs him friends, love, and opportunities for a decent life. The orphan boy Rojer Half-grip becomes a jongleur (a bard) whose music entrances demons. And Leesha, a powerless girl, gradually gains power from her knowledge.
If I were Brett’s editor, I would have advised against having all three central characters be so young — it’s just been done so many times that it’s a fantasy cliché — but Brett pulls it off. I look forward to further development of these beautiful but flawed characters in the coming books (there are supposed to be at least three).
Peter
Brett touches on the age-old theme of atheism vs. religion, looking at both sides of that debate, and I think he’s got more for us there. There’s also a parallel to the tension between Christianity and Islam, a courageous subject to tackle. I also look forward to learning more about the Core itself, the effect of Arlen’s use of the attack wards, different kinds of demons we did not see in The Warded Man, and the lands beyond the limited range of the people in this story. And I’m hoping for more explanation of the warding system.
Since there’s no geographical context, and the description is sparing, I really wanted a map in this book. The characters refer to maps, but we’re not given one, and that disappointed me.
Peter Brett has made an excellent beginning with The Warded Man, and I eagerly await The Desert Spear. —Angus Bickerton
The Warded Man
I’ve often said that employing the usual fantasy tropes in a novel isn’t an automatic sign of poor writing; it’s what you do with them that matters. Witness the three main characters in Peter Brett’s The Warded Man: a young boy leaving his small hamlet for the larger world, a young girl trying to maintain her independent nature, a young orphan who must make his own way in the world. Anyone seen these before? Anyone? Buehler?
Luckily for us readers, however, Peter Brett does in fact know what to do with them, sharpening the standard character types with a depth of characterization that makes us care about what happens to them, and setting them in an original, often tense, plot.
The world Peter Brett creates is one that once saw an age of magic, followed by an age of science, and, following the fall of science, an age of demons or “corelings.” Long, long ago the corelings (called such because they rise from the core through the ground at night) nearly wiped out humanity, which was saved by The Deliverer and the discovery of magical wards, both offensive and defensive. The offensive wards have long been lost and now humanity (in this part of the world at least) ekes out a rough-hewn existence in a few heavily fortified and warded cities and a host of small hamlets that are linked by brave Messengers who dare the night. People work in this medieval setting by day, then cower in their ward-protected homes at night. Despite the wards, the corelings are often able to pick off handfuls of people and sometimes more, so humanity is gradually declining in numbers.
The Warded Man opens with the aftermath of a successful coreling attack on young Arlen’s hamlet. Subsequent events quickly serve to separate Arlen from his parents and his town as he vows to find a way to fight the corelings, rather than follow the usual cowardly behavior, as exemplified (he believes) by his father. Arlen sets his sights on becoming a Messenger, and along the way he is quasi-adopted by one such Messenger and his wife, learns to be a Warder (one especially talented at painting varied effective wards), meets the love of his young life, travels to nearly all the cities (including the only one whose people do not cower but fight the demons nightly despite taking horrendous losses), and finds a way to battle the demons (the title means you can figure this one out well beforehand).
Meanwhile, Leesha, a young independent woman of another hamlet, starts to learn the ways of healing as a Gatherer, apprenticed first to her local healer, then to another healer in one of the cities. And finally there is Rojer, who after his parents are killed and his hand maimed by corelings, is adopted by a jongleur (an entertainer, some of whom travel with Messengers). Eventually, as one can imagine, the three story lines come together as one.
The world, while generally familiar in fantasy, is fascinating in its details, with its back history of both magic and science, the sharply delineated worlds of safety and danger, the heavily fortified cities surrounded by more dangerous villages. The same is true of the demons, familiar in type (ravening, dangerous, etc.) but more compelling in detail: fire demons, wind demons, sand demons. Even better, the demons become more complex and thus compelling as the story continues, leaving the more simplistic “demons bad, very bad” behind and opening up lots of questions. I can’t say the details are all that thorough: Peter Brett gives us what we need when we need it, and the scene details are often vivid, but I personally wouldn’t have minded even more detail on the demons’ appearance and the wards’ visuals. And of course, my customary “would it kill you to provide a map” gripe.
The characters, while standard type, are mostly sharply drawn, with Leesha the most-so and Rojer the least-so. Rather than give us the standard by-the-numbers coming of age story, Peter Brett does a nice job avoiding that trap and quickening the pace by smoothly jumping months and years at a time, giving us punctuated looks at the characters’ development rather than day-by-day, gradual and predictable movement. We’re given more than enough detail to fill in the blanks ourselves — a method more authors should consider. I also liked how rather than simply give us characters with fully-formed arbitrary personalities, the author shows us (with Leesha and Arlen) young people who are reacting specifically to the people in their lives, with both turning purposely away from the paths exemplified by their parents — Leesha her mom and Arlen his father. I did think there were a few times the characterization slipped in the last quarter of the book, with a few abrupt shifts that could have used a slower evolution and more explanation (I won’t go into detail to save plot points). Side characters vary, with several very sharply drawn vivid creations, such as Leesha’s teacher and the three major adults in Arlen’s life in the city, while others, mostly quite minor save one or two, are more of the fill-in-the-usual-role type characters.
The plot is consistently compelling through nearly all of the book, with good pacing and many tense moments. As with the characterization, I felt the plot weakened a bit around the three-quarter mark, though not for too long. I was more than pleased by the ending.
The ending has both a sense of resolution and a cliffhanger, though the book’s pace and focus on character development clearly tells the reader this is not going to be a single volume story, so nobody should be upset about that cliffhanger. It also opens up some really large questions in terms of plot and theme, rather than just offer up the usual “the hero’s in dire straits” scene, a la Batman TV episodes circa 1967 (for you young’uns, that’s pre-Bale, pre-Clooney, pre-Kilmer, pre-Keaton).
All in all, The Warded Man was a compelling read, one I wanted to finish off in a single reading and one that left me eagerly awaiting the sequel. Highly recommended. —Bill Capossere
 The Desert Spear
 The Desert Spear is Peter Brett’s very worthy follow-up to his excellent first novel, The Warded Man. The Desert Spear may not be quite as consistently good as The Warded Man, but it remains a strong book in its own right, more than avoiding the pitfalls of that dreaded second novel curse.
One way Brett avoids the second problem is by focusing at first on a character (Jardir) and setting (Krasia) that we were only briefly introduced to in book one. Similar to what he does with Arlen in The Warded Man, Brett takes us through Jardir’s youth as he rises up the tribal ranks of the desert people to eventually become their leader. Brett makes a good structural decision here by showing us Jardir’s rise via long flashbacks between present day where Jardir is leading his people on an invasion of Arlen’s homeland. Brett gets to have his cake and eat it too by keeping us in tune with an immediate sequel chronologically to The Warded Man while also going back a few decades and introducing us to a whole new group of characters.
Jardir and his best friend Abban are particularly well-drawn characters, each compelling for very different reasons, as is their complex relationship. Jardir’s wife is a bit more one-note — I actually thought she had richer potential when she was first introduced, but we start to see better possibilities for her as a richer character at the very end. The larger culture of the Krasians is as sharply depicted as its leader, and while fantasy fans will find it all somewhat familiar — the stern desert warrior Eastern way of life — the details are precise enough that it really comes alive as a foreign culture. Fair warning: it truly does have a tough-for-us-to-imagine view of the world and so the reader should be prepared for some repugnant action, including rape, though it isn’t gratuitously detailed.
Once we’ve spent a good chunk of the book getting young Jardir caught up to current-day Jardir, we shift focus to the main characters from book one: Arlen (the eponymous Warded Man), Leesha, Rojer, Renna, and others. This section isn’t as gripping or urgent, but maintains a high enjoyment/interest level in other, more personal ways: Rojer’s unrequited love for Leesha, Renna’s nightmarish life with her father, Arlen’s fear of what he is turning into, his revelation of how his actions affect others, etc. Eventually, the two worlds and character groups come together (though not Arlen and Jardir yet) as they must, but the clash is one more of culture than force, at least for now.
The characterization, as mentioned, is a strong point as it was in The Warded Man. Characters, including some minor characters from book one, grow and change, as do their relationships (Brett does a nice job of avoiding the predictable there). And we get some real grey area character types and actions, some quite uncomfortable. I personally like that sense of discomfort.
There are fewer “action” scenes in The Desert Spear, especially once we’re past Jardir’s section, but that doesn’t really feel like a lack in the book; the plotting certainly holds your interest throughout. The pacing was a bit off in the parts dealing with Arlen, I thought — his revisiting of places and events from The Warded Man felt unbalanced and somewhat rushed and perfunctory. I liked what Brett was having him do, but it almost seemed like he was worried about overstepping a page limit and so zipped through it too quickly.
I did miss some of the detail on the demon world that we had in the first book, though we are introduced to a new category of demon here through intermittent chapters (the type of demon was interesting and certainly raises the bar/changes the game quite a bit, but the way it was presented was a bit flat). And we only get a hint of that mix of magic and old science that I so enjoyed in The Warded Man.
Those were minor issues though and it’s also obvious that some of what I missed in this book we’ll return to, probably in more detail, in future ones. The Desert Spear was one of my more anticipated reads this year and it certainly didn’t disappoint. Two books in and this remains one of my favorite series going, leaving me looking as forward to book three as I was to The Desert Spear. Highly recommended.
—Bill Capossere
 The Desert Spear
The Desert Spear is the second book in Peter Brett’s The Demon Cycle which debuted only last year with The Warded Man (North American title)/The Painted Man(UK title). I still love the setting of this book, and the entire premise of this story is intriguing: a fallen civilization virtually wiped out by nocturnal creatures that rise from the Earth’s core (Corelings) to feast upon the animal life (most notably humans) on the surface. However, Peter Brett misses a glorious opportunity to take this story to a higher level, and merely entertains instead.
The Desert Spear is really two books in one. The first third of the book tells the back story of Jardir and Abban, to whom we were introduced in The Warded Man, Jardir as the leader of Krasia, and who was instrumental in the betrayal that led to Arlen’s metamorphosis into the Warded Man, and Abban, Arlen’s Krasian merchant friend. The tale begins with Jardir and Abban as youths in training, and follows them on their progress to adulthood, Jardir to political power, and Abban to economic power. The latter part of the book deals with Arlen, Leesha, Rojer and the rest, and how they interact with each other and the new Krasian expansion.
First, what I like about The Desert Spear. The world/civilization remains compelling, and still undiscovered, even enigmatic. We are aware of a few large cities, small settlements dispersed between them, and of the sense of a great civilization akin to our own that has fallen to pre-industrial levels, and this is a fantastic place to tell this story. The main characters Arlen (the Warded Man) and Abban are well-realized and interesting, though I must say that Jardir needed a little more complexity. For instance, had he suffered more internal turmoil at the betrayal of Arlen, it would have been more true to his honour-bound character. I also liked how the conflict with the demons was escalated, as now that the humans are taking the battle to the demons and winning, the story would have become quite dull. The introduction of a new kind of intelligent demon and the glimpse of the power behind demonkind demonstrate that there are three books to come in this series. The prequel device used by Brett with the characters Jardir and Abban was excellent, and it has been used with success by the likes of Steven Erikson in House of Chains (Malazan Book of the Fallen). All of the above combine to give this series a really wonderful foundation, and Brett’s compelling storytelling style allows the reader to be forgiving of the novel’s weaknesses, and to read it quickly.
What did I dislike? Every character except the three mentioned above was too one-dimensional. Leesha was kind of a mess, and did things that made no sense. Rojer was almost non-existent, and with the exception of Jardir’s wife, the supporting characters did everything expected of them and nothing else. The point-of-view changes are not always very smooth, which is one of my main complaints about the epic fantasy genre. Many times in the book the pov changes, and the story’s momentum is impaired by the sudden shift. I did not like Arlen’s return to Tibbet’s Brook, Fort Miln, and other places. It took the story back to places it did not need to go and slowed it down, especially compared to the blistering pace of The Warded Man. Another minor complaint is the switching of names for Jardir to Ahmann back and forth, which should have been picked up by test-readers and editors alike. My last minor complaint was that I got the feeling of Emperor Jagang’s Imperial Order when the Krasians conquered Fort Rizon. As I have resolved never to read Terry Goodkind again, this was disappointing. Finally, the ending was abrupt and very unsatisfying, especially compared with that wonderful epilogue from The Warded Man. The story just stopped. Brett’s style, fortunately, overcomes a lot of these problems.
My biggest complaint is the way the Krasian culture is portrayed, which is a hybrid of Arab and Klingon, with a bit of ritual male rape thrown in. I imagine that a muslim reader of this book might see this as a stereotype-ridden portrayal of Arab culture by Western culture, and one can easily spot the weaknesses of the culture that is likely being set up for a major shift. To be fair, Jardir does things to ameliorate some of the straw-men attributes of the Krasians, but not enough. The problem with this is that the culture of the green lands in the story is an obvious Christian/European parallel. Brett could, if he chooses, deal with some thorny issues in our own world in the context of a fantasy, allowing him to be direct and take the gloves off some of our own struggles, but he must make the Krasians a little more sympathetic and understandable to do so. This would take this story from mere entertainment, and make it important. Though he does not do this in this book, it is not too late for Brett to do this in this series, with three books remaining, and the next one meant to deal with the conflict between the Krasians and the greenlands. If he fails to do so, then it will be an excellent opportunity squandered.
Finally, Mr. Brett (or Del Rey), would it kill you to provide a decent map?!? There are great examples readily available, like from Tolkien’s Middle Earth, Erikson’s Malazan maps, Wurts’ Athera maps, and Martin’s Westeros maps.
I give The Desert Spear three and a half stars, but it barely made it there. I really like this series, and Peter V. Brett is a compelling writer, but The Desert Spear is a sequel that is weaker than The Warded Man. Mr. Brett needs to take his writing to the next level in order to build on one of the more successful fantasy debuts of 2009. The foundation he has built should allow him to go there, and I for one hope that he does. —Angus Bickerton
 The Great Bazaar and Other Stories
 Not very often does a reader (or a reviewer) get to see the stuff that doesn’t make it into a book. Peter Brett has given us a chance to see what did not make it into The Warded Man (The Painted Man in the UK), and for that reason, this little book really succeeds at what it set out to do, illustrating that part of the author’s craft that readers don’t get to appreciate: good editing. We know it when it’s not there (e.g. when an author infodumps or when they use a story arc that completely fails to advance the main plot), but the reader remains blissfully unaware of editing when it is done well. Brett lifts this veil, and I found it quite educational. Aside from the title story, there is a prologue chapter, “Arlen,” about the young boy Arlen before the narrative proper of The Warded Man begins, and also a cut chapter entitled “Brianne Beaten.” Additionally, Brett provides commentary about why these three stories were cut from The Warded Man.
"The Great Bazaar," the title story which Brett refers to as chapter 16.5, takes us to the middle section of The Warded Man and shows the development of Arlen’s relationship with the lower caste Krasian, the merchant Abban. It was an interesting read, and would have fit into the bigger book, but Brett’s commentary on it was bang on. It’s a long section that only shows Arlen’s relationship with Abban and does not advance the plot very much. The frantic pace of The Warded Man would have been sacrificed had this story remained. However, reading it as a novella, together with the commentary, gives the reader a real feel for Arlen’s strengths and flaws at that stage of the story.
The “Arlen” prologue chapter reveals how, sometimes, the editor is right. Brett comments on why “Arlen” was cut from The Warded Man. The book was too long, the editor thought prologues were old-fashioned, and unlike the rest of the novel, this chapter was told in what Brett calls “a kind of ambiguous tense.”
“Brianne Beaten” was a full chapter that Brett chose to cut on his own, because he needed to shorten the book, and because the chapter lifted so easily from The Warded Man without necessitating re-writes of other parts. It is a simple vignette that shows the growing power and strength of Leesha, the herb-woman, and her relationship with her estranged friend Brianne.
I liked The Great Bazaar and Other Stories, because it gave me a rare glimpse into the “dark” side of the creative process: editing. Brett was perfectly right to cut each of these passages from The Warded Man, as they would have lengthened the book without adding to its quality. If you liked The Warded Man, and intend to read The Desert Spear, you can afford to be indifferent about getting this book. If you are a rabid Brett fan and have to own everything he writes, by all means, run out and get it. It is a short read (it took me about two hours), and it is entertaining, but it doesn’t take you anywhere new. However, it did prime me for reading The Desert Spear, which is likely the main purpose of The Great Bazaar.
There are two parts of the book that seem tacked-on. They would work better as appendices to either The Warded Man or the just-released The Desert Spear. These are the “Grimoire of Wards” and a very short “Krasian Dictionary.” I am not sure why they are in this volume because these sections would have added only three or four pages to The Desert Spear and would be better placed there, given the focus on the Krasians. It would be annoying to refer from one book to another, instead of simply flipping to the back of the volume you are reading.
The Great Bazaar and Other Stories was entertaining, and it educated me in a way that I have never experienced before. While it is not a necessary addition to the growing Peter V. Brett collection on my shelf, it is welcome there. —Angus Bickerton
Brayan’s Gold
 I’m really enjoying these little novellas that Sub Press puts out. Because they’re meant as stand-alone side-stories, they’re a great way for me to get a feel for an author’s world and writing style before jumping into a big series.
Peter V. Brett’s Brayan’s Gold is the story of how Arlen, one of the main characters in Brett’s Demon Cycle, goes on his first solo job and meets a snow demon. The episode is referred to in the story collection The Great Bazaar, but hadn’t been written until Brett’s friend asked him about the story. So, here it is.
Even though I haven’t read Brett’s The Warded Man or its sequel The Desert Spear, I had no trouble jumping right into this fascinating world where demons rise up from the Earth when the sun goes down. Rock demons, wind demons, flame demons and others terrorize humans and kill those who are not under wards. Nobody’s ever met a snow demon and lived to tell, so Arlen isn’t sure if they really exist until he comes across one while he’s unprotected.
Since this is a prequel of sorts, it’s not a spoiler to say that Arlen survives; watching him plan, bargain, and fight is the fun part. I liked Arlen immediately — he’s “got stones like a rock demon” — and I liked Brett’s world. I’m ready to spend some more time with Arlen and his friends as they battle the demons (I already have The Warded Man and The Desert Spear in my Audible Library).
Brayan’s Gold is a short novel — only 88 pages, but it’s the perfect appetizer. I recommend Brayan’s Gold to fans of Peter V. Brett, and to readers, like me, who want to taste his world before putting a whole helping on their plate. I think I’ll be going back for seconds or thirds on this one!
—Kat Hooper |
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