Steven Erikson

The Malazan Book of the Fallen — (1999-2011) Publisher: The Malazan Empire simmers with discontent, bled dry by interminable warfare, bitter infighting and bloody confrontations. Even the imperial legions, long inured to the bloodshed, yearn for some respite. Yet Empress Laseen's rule remains absolute, enforced by her dread Claw assassins. For Sergeant Whiskeyjack and his squad of Bridgeburners, and for Tattersail, surviving cadre mage of the Second Legion, the aftermath of the siege of Pale should have been a time to mourn the many dead. But Darujhistan, last of the Free Cities of Genabackis, yet holds out. It is to this ancient citadel that Laseen turns her predatory gaze. However, it would appear that the Empire is not alone in this great game. Sinister, shadowbound forces are gathering as the gods themselves prepare to play their hand.

Gardens of the Moon

It's always a question for fantasy fans: do I really want to read a first book in yet another long series? Remember when we moaned about when everything was a trilogy — now I'll be happy to take a simple three-book series. Wouldn't it be great if you could tell ahead of time if the trip will be worth it? Well, thanks to the quirks of international publication, you can with the Malazan Book of the Fallen. Gardens of the Moon, the first book, may be the only book out in the States, but there are four others already released in Canada and I'm happy to report that while there are some hit and miss points, and certainly some flaws, overall the series (a projected ten-book one) is well worth jumping into with Gardens of the Moon.

This is gritty world and war fantasy; you won't find slender glowing elves or small sheltered folk. In tone and character, this one is pretty much a direct descendant of Glen Cook's Black Company series (minor digression — if you haven't read that, you should. By the time you're done there should be a few more Malazan books out there — in paperback no less). To recognize the familiarity is not to do any injustice to Steven Erikson, however, whose world is rich in characters, race, and magic and highly original.

There's no point in recapping plot since a) there's too much of it b) it's way too complex c) it starts in the middle really and you'd have to also explain what precedes it and d) it turns out it isn't the plot you thought it was anyway. Suffice to say that the plot is generally one of the book's and series' strengths and involves among other things sundry wars of empire and rebellion, political infighting, and competition among various Ascendants (god-like beings), Gods, and Ascendant Wannabees At times Erikson seems to layer complexity for complexity's sake and sometimes seems to pull a twist out of his, ummm, out of nowhere just because he can, but it's multi-layered and intriguing throughout. And it isn't handed to you. Expect to have to figure some things out, expect to get some things wrong. And don't expect everything to have answers or resolutions or even explanations. Something to look forward to is that explanations/background are almost always forthcoming, if not here than in future books. I kind of like not having every first reference to something (a race, a form of magic, a place) be introduced with a paragraph or page of clumsy exposition —"Why look, it's a Faruvian Waldorf. How strange to see it in this place when we all thought they were wiped out in the third age when Astor the Mighty corrupted all four-legged creatures and waged a war of attrition with..." The lack of explanation can be frustrating at times, but it's a stimulating frustration.

Characterization is a bit shallow in the first book, partially because there are so many and the plot so layered that it's tough to commit the time to them to give them the depth they need. And Erikson relies a bit too much on telling us what a character is rather than having the trait reveal itself or develop (the undying loyalty some characters inspire, for instance). But many of the characters deepen as the books add up. Those that survive that is. Another welcome touch is that Erikson isn't shy about killing off characters we've spent some time with. The luxury of ten books and hundreds of characters. He also does a much better job with camaraderie than with romance. Luckily, there's much more of the former than the latter so he plays to his strength.

The world creation is original, detailed, and varied. The geography is spacious, covering events on several continents throughout the series. The time period is literally millennia-based which adds to the richness of events. Since some of the characters are immortal (while others strive to be), past is seldom simply prologue here. These are people with long memories, long grudges, and long-lying plans. The basis of the magical system is revealed bit by bit in its interesting and as far as I know highly unique fashion. Alchemy and rough munitions work side by side with the magic as well.

Flaws can be found, as mentioned, in some of the weak characterization and overly complex plotting. And as the books go on Erikson seems to fall prey to a "create the baddest toughest creature in a fight" who then somehow is taken down by someone even tougher despite his being the "toughest" pattern. A equals B and B equals C but somehow A kicks C's butt. That happens a bit too often.

But in the long view (the very long view — these are not slim books and there are a lot of them), the series is a welcome addition to the fantasy genre and Gardens a strong start. Strong enough that when I finished it I went ahead and ordered all the rest from Amazon Canada rather than wait for them to come out in the States. In fact, I had them shipped courier so I could get them before taking off on vacation. The extra money is testament enough to their enjoyment. The books aren't all equal in quality, but the trend is toward improvement, with the noticeable addition of more and better-written humor in the last two. A strong recommendation for this book and the series as a whole. —Bill Capossere

Gardens of the Moon: Numbingly complex military-fantasy

Gardens of the Moon is Steven Erikson's debut fantasy novel and the first of a projected ten — yep, ten — book saga from saga-happy publishing titan Tor. Because of its scope, it's also a hard book to review. The word "epic" has been thrown around to describe it, and perhaps it's an appropriate one: the book displays both the strengths and weaknesses of a fantasy tale that spans centuries and planes of existence.

The strengths: Erikson displays a prodigious imagination and broadly constructed world; GOTM is indeed a good example of world-building. Some aspects of his magic system and assortment of enchanted objects feel fresh, as does the creation of a city illuminated by natural gas.

The weaknesses: As might be expected with a new novelist, Erikson's storytelling ability lags behind his imagination. The most glaring problem is that he can't seem to decide whether to tell the story from multiple, limited points of view (as George Martin does so well in A Game of Thrones) or from an omniscient perspective. More often than not, he seems to settle for the latter — which has the consequence of distancing the reader from the characters. With so many characters in play, this proves to be a nearly fatal flaw. I found it incredibly difficult to relate to any of the characters; the soldiers and assassins blurred together, and few motivations and biographies came to light. Often, simple clarity — where are they now? is this before or after that? — was lacking and jerked me right out of the story.

Speaking of, there's much less actual story than the book's density would lead you to believe. An empire is trying to conquer a wealthy city on another continent, and a broad array of warriors, assassins, sorcerers, politicians, and — most intrusively — gods factor into the conflict, plotting and scheming away. Yet, for all the surface action, the shallow characterization mentioned above never quite pulled me in and inspired me to care about the story. I often felt as if I were reading an incredibly detailed, turn-by-turn account of an intense and long-running Dungeons & Dragons campaign — something intimidating and inaccessible to outsiders, with minimal emotional payoff. Some will praise Gardens of the Moon for 'allowing' the reader to figure out some things for him or herself, and that can certainly be a valid praise for a book (e.g. for The Briar King by Greg Keyes or anything by Patricia McKillip). In this case, though, the lack of explanation and clarity seemed less than intentional on the author's part. (And a final, minor irritation: though Stephen Youll's cover is eye catching, I have no idea how it relates to the story or who the two warriors are supposed to be. The title is tangential, as well. Such is marketing, I guess, in this age of ten-plus book trilogies ...)

In a nutshell, Gardens of the Moon was tolerable. And to be fair to Mr. Erikson, it was first published in England in 1999, and the standards for the genre may have changed since then. However, this note from Terry Brooks in The Writer's Complete Fantasy Reference may have proved instructive: "The temptation to free-fall through a story chock full of incredible images and wondrous beings can be irresistible — but, when not resisted, almost invariably disastrous."

GOTM isn't disastrous, but I can't recommend buying it or committing to another nine servings. Recommended as a used-purchase for fans of military fantasy or a library loan for general fantasy readers. Two-and-a-half blood-red stars. —Rob Rhodes

Gardens of the Moon: A daunting feat of world building

Steven Erikson’s Gardens of the Moon is the first novel in the Malazan Book of the Fallen series. The world that Erikson has created here is remarkably complex, and its history spans millennia. Gardens of the Moon follows the Malazan Empire’s campaign on the continent Genabeckis — for how much longer will the city of Darujhistan resist the overwhelming power of the Malazan Empire?

Empress Laseen was once a “claw,” an elite assassin of the empire. Fiendishly, she removed the previous Emperor and now seeks to conquer the Free Cities of Genabeckis, In addition to expanding the empire’s borders, Laseen meticulously plots to eliminate any and all threats to her power. Although the might of the empire rests on its military, it is for precisely this reason that popular, capable generals have the potential to threaten Laseen’s rule.

Fighting on a distant continent, we might expect the Malazan army to have rallied together into one cohesive group. However, since Laseen’s coup, plots within plots have developed — and readers would do well to take notes in order to keep up. Unfortunately, for characters to survive this campaign, taking notes will not be enough. All actions must be strategic, especially because trust is a high risk to take when fighting for the Malazan Empire. Betrayal from above seems like a particularly likely explanation for what has been happening to Sergeant Whiskeyjack and his Bridgeburners.

When we meet Whiskeyjack, he is a weathered veteran fighting a losing battle to keep his troops alive. His Bridgeburners were once among the most glorious soldiers in the empire, but they have since been repeatedly assigned the most difficult tasks the army faces in order to minimize their ability to threaten Laseen. Whiskeyjack’s primary assignment in Gardens of the Moon is to prepare Darujhistan, the last of the Free Cities, for conquest. Though Whiskeyjack has a highly skilled assassin in Corporal Kalam and perhaps the finest mage in the empire in Quick Ben, surviving Darujhistan may be too much even for his elite veterans. Worse, the gods have taken an interest in his unit…

Meanwhile, Darujhistan is not without its own political unrest and its own divine allies. Here, Erikson’s “players” are not part of an army, nor are they bound together in an official organization. Among others, Erikson has here gathered a young thief, an assassin, and a mysteriously well-connected seer named Kruppe. These daring rogues meet over beers at the Phoenix Inn rather than around a conqueror’s map.

Erikson brings together some of the most popular elements of fantasy, and readers who love to explore new worlds have a remarkably complex creation in Gardens of the Moon. In addition to a variety of political moves and countermoves, there is a history of fantasy monsters and races that reaches back ages in geological time. Erikson also has an enthusiasm for creating competing magic systems. However, there is a great deal going on in Genabeckis, and some readers may find that that Erikson’s gains in history and culture come at the cost of character development.

Then again, Erikson is writing a military fantasy series, one even more hard-boiled than Glen Cook’s Black Company novels. So it is somewhat naïve to look for a romantic resolution here. Instead, Erikson’s focus is on the nuts and bolts of the empire’s intrigues. It should not come as a surprise that Erikson’s writing is unusually rough, and his details are often focused on weapons and armor, magic theory, and vengeance.

Gardens of the Moon is the first in what has become a popular fantasy series, but some fantasy fans may choose not to sign up for this gritty campaign. At times, Erikson’s plot is as difficult to follow as Empress Laseen’s schemes, and the manipulations of this world may be too complex for casual readers to survive.
—Ryan Skardal

Deadhouse Gates

The only words that I can think of to sum up Steven Erikson’s Malazan Book of the Fallen series are “Wow.” and “What the heck is going on here?!?” (I would have used stronger language, but this is a family website). Erikson appears to be doing something big and shiny, but I have not yet been quite able to grasp what it is. Maybe I am being dense, but this is the second of his books that I have read, and I have the pervasive feeling as I progress through this series that I am missing something important, but I can’t put my finger on what precisely that is.

Deadhouse Gates is the second of the Malazan novels, but it does not pick up where Gardens of the Moon left off. The events in it occur immediately after Gardens of the Moon, but they are on a different continent, and using largely different characters. The Malazan books do this — the third book, Memories of Ice, goes back to Genebackis, and so on. The main plot behind Deadhouse Gates is the rebellion of the people of the Seven Cities in Darujhistan, which calls itself the Whirlwind, and how elements of the Malazan Empire in the Seven Cities try to survive. We are introduced to Duiker, the Imperial Historian, who recounts the March of Dogs of the great general Coltaine, who tasks himself with protecting the Malazan refugees in their attempt to reach safety across an entire continent. The theme so obvious in this story line is the civilian population’s disdain and contempt for the soldiers who are quite literally keeping them alive. In addition to Coltaine’s March, there are a number of vital sub-plots that underpin the entire series, but due to the length of this review, I won’t go into them.

Erikson has interweaving plots and sub-plots, and he expertly ties them together by the end of this book. His characterization is brilliant, and he has created people you cheer for (who wouldn’t follow Coltaine?) and people you despise (Felisin — read the book and you will know what I mean), and one’s you identify with (Duiker) but at the same time you understand why they are the way they are. I found the ending of the book a bit improbable, and Erikson went over the top at the end in his pursuit of brutal reality, but I cannot say more without spoiling the read.

My biggest difficulty is the world building aspect. This is not the classic medieval fantasy world, but it appears to be a blend of the Roman Empire and Henry V (you have crossbows and explosives and heavy cavalry, but Roman organization), and it “feels” middle eastern. I like this a lot. The Malazan world is very well-done and complex, and it is on a scale more massive than anything I have ever seen, but the reader is not given much information about why things are the way they are, despite there being two 1000-page novels under his or her belt. I am not asking for an info-dump, but Erikson could do a better job of educating his readers about this incredibly imaginative world he has co-created (Ian Cameron Esslemont has written two books in the Malazan world). However, he only releases little bits of history here and there, and so this reader, at least, is left feeling a little lost. Perhaps this world is just too big and different for Erikson to be able to do so. Also, if you can find a person who understands the Warren system of magic, please have them explain it to me. I won’t try, because I cannot understand it at all ... which is not necessarily a bad thing. Can we really understand something supernatural anyway? I have the sneaking suspicion that Erikson intended his systems of magic to be incomprehensible.

Erikson’s military campaigns read like history come alive. They are brutally realistic, and I feel like I am reading the accounts of an eye witness of battles in our own world like The Somme, Vimy Ridge, Ortona or D-Day. A veteran soldier would be better able to pronounce on this aspect of Erikson’s work. His world is awful and as messy as ours is, and for this he is to be applauded. He is one of the writers that shows that fantasy has grown up and become something even more deserving of the respect that more conventional genres enjoy. However, fantasy does not get much darker than Erikson. Deadhouse Gates is brutal, and very, very human — at least, at our worst. The best description I have heard is that people would love to vacation in Middle Earth, but they wouldn’t go to the Malazan Empire in a million years. This is not a book or series for the faint of heart or the unintelligent, and I cannot recommend this book for young adults, due to the sheer amount of brutal violence (including rape and brutal, violent mob murders, etc.). There is very little light to balance the grim reality of Erikson’s fantasy, and that appears to be the trend in fantasy today. Personally, I prefer a little more balance, which in its own way is more realistic, but I do not fault Erikson for this. He has created a masterpiece.

I can, given my difficulties in comprehension, only give this book 4 stars. The quality is amazing, but some of my enjoyment is lost as I cannot understand the story well enough to enjoy it the way that I would a Janny Wurts or a George RR Martin novel. My brain is not given enough fuel by Erikson to soar into his world without restriction, and I have to think too much about the story line in order to comprehend it. This book — aye, this series — is not for the fantasy neophyte, nor for any kind of neophyte. If you are a fan of the big epic fantasy, this is worth a try. If you love the gritty realism of A Song of Ice and Fire, I think you will like these books. If you are a fan of the complex plots and deep characterization of The Wars of Light and Shadow, try Malazan. However, Erikson does something that is remarkably different from anyone else. Just what the heck that is I have yet to discover... maybe you can figure it out. —Angus Bickerton

Memories of Ice: This is one of those stories that hooked me

I sometimes find myself lost in this story's complexity. I think I'm getting the general idea that the gods of this world have a more direct relationship with the mortals than what we're used to, and that the tale here really started hundreds of thousands of years ago. Also, sometimes when it seems like I've missed something, it eventually comes together, more or less.

I also get very frustrated over the lack of visual descriptions. That may be only my own personal pet-peeve, because I have this complaint for a lot of today's fantasy writers. It's just bothersome to me when I'm trying to enter a fantasy world and the creator doesn't always paint a good picture of its creatures or the characters. I'm infuriated when I surrender to the fact that I'm just going to have to go with my best idea of what something looks like, and then a description comes pages after it has been introduced and I find that I'm way off. That's if I get a description at all.

Usually those things are enough to make me stop reading a book mid-way through and go find something more to my liking, but not with The Malazan Book of the Fallen. Erikson is still telling a great story, despite my personal problems with the details. What he lacks for in visuals, he makes up for in action and gritty dialogue. You can't help but admire the boot-leather-tough characters, with their true soldier mentalities. The Bridgeburners have that by the wagon load. You can never tell who to trust or who to kill when you've got the chance. Erikson has woven a great complex tapestry from many courageous threads of individual glory and honor. I've been drafted by the Malazan army and, like the rest of these poor troopers, I'll have to see this thing through to the last battle. That's not because I'm above desertion either. I'm ashamed to say I've been tempted, but I'm too damned loyal to these guys for that now.

So you can't say you weren't properly warned. Be careful, or you'll be slooshin' along, belly-aching about the lousy grub and lack of sleep, and be expected to hold your own along with the rest of us when the fighting starts. Who knows? Maybe you'll survive to collect your back pay. —Greg Hersom

House of Chains: They just keep getting better

For those of you who have made it this far, you can't turn back now. The story grows more complex and tragic from here on out, but it is some of the best fantasy that I have ever read.

The characters are interesting and much of what goes on is just fun to read about. If you are struggling to keep up with who everyone is and what they are about, then you are normal, but isn't it so interesting?

The Malazan books are definitely in my top 5 series. —John Hulet

The Bonehunters

The Malazan Book of the Fallen has become so complex that it’s very difficult to keep all of the storylines in order. It’s totally worth the effort, but these books are not exactly the sort that you can just pick up and read quickly. The Bonehunters is no exception and I found myself jumping back to the reference of who’s who quite a bit.

I struggle to write this review because so much that I want to say would be spoiler material for people who are beginning the series. But what I can say is that The Bonehunters was awesome! The Bridgeburners and some of their history and what made them who they are has been a theme throughout the series. In The Bonehunters we get to see something similar happen to a new troop of soldiers. It’s painful, it’s tragic, it’s tense, and gripping for the reader to be drawn into the events that lead these soldiers to become who they will be.

There are many other storylines that are equally interesting. Characters continue to unfold and we get an even better idea of how some of the storylines are interlinked. This keeps you tightly tied to the series. Erikson is not afraid to kill characters in this series. We’ve seen it before and it doesn’t seem that he’s done with it yet.

Two things really stood out in The Bonehunters. I especially liked the development and personality growth of Shadowthrone and the Rope. I also really, really liked the way that Erikson describes the hidden camaraderie and rivalry within military organizations. My favorite thing is that he’s quite willing to let his heroes be small guys who are not famous leaders.

A brief plot summary is impossible without spoiling The Bonehunters. There are battles, there is betrayal, there is humor, there is triumph, and most importantly the series takes some big steps forward towards the massive cataclysm that we have been inching towards since the Malazan saga began.
—John Hulet

Reaper's Gale

In modern fantasy literature, there are certain select works that define the genre such as The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien, C.S. Lewis’ The Chronicles of Narnia, Robert Jordan’s The Wheel of Time, George R.R. Martin’s A Song of Ice & Fire, the Shannara novels by Terry Brooks, and Stephen Donaldson’s Thomas Covenant Chronicles among others. Highly deserving of that same esteemed distinction is Steven Erikson’s Tales of the Malazan Book of the Fallen: Incredibly ambitious, fearlessly imaginative, and immensely satisfying on every level — emotionally, intellectually and from a purely entertainment standpoint — Erikson’s Malazan books not only celebrate the genre, but are redefining fantasy right before our very eyes.

What’s so special about Steven Erikson’s Tales of the Malazan Book of the Fallen? Personally, I think that answer varies depending on the reader, but for me it all starts with the breathtaking magnitude of what Steven is trying to accomplish with his ten-volume series. For between the scale of the worldbuilding — which extends from many different races, customs, religions, geography, climates and background histories and mythologies to various gods, ascendants, soletaken, warrens, holds and other magical rules and properties — a narrative that weaves together dozens of subplots and timelines into a cohesive whole, and literally hundreds of character viewpoints, Steven Erikson’s Tales of the Malazan Book of the Fallen is, in my opinion, unrivaled by any other series when it comes to sheer scope and vision. And that’s not even taking into account the five additional Malazan novels being written by co-creator Ian Cameron Esslemont, the three novellas by Erikson, and whatever other plans the duo may have for the world. In short, the Malazan series is just awe-inspiring in its ambitiousness and, to be honest, a bit overwhelming even with all of the accompanying maps, glossaries and Dramatis Personae (thankfully an encyclopedia is in the works). But you want to know what’s even more impressive? The fact that the authors have really only scratched the surface of what this world has to offer.

Of course, what’s ambition without the abilities to realize one’s vision? Fortunately that is an area where Mr. Erikson excels. For instance, the world of the Malazan novels isn’t just large; it’s detailed, almost to the point of obsession. So even as fantastical as things can get, especially regarding the book’s frequent magical occurrences and some of the more larger-than-life characters, the world itself and its peoples are real and alive in a manner that is all too rare in fantasy literature. As far as the narrative, Steven Erikson is an absolute artist when it comes to storytelling — gracefully juggling numerous point-of-views, subplots, and timelines that ultimately come together into a series of trademark convergences that are some of the best payoffs that I’ve ever read — including Coltaine and the Chain of Dogs, the dramatic events at Pale, the shocking betrayals at Y’Ghatan and Malaz City, et cetera — not to mention the author’s uncanny ability to consistently surprise the reader with the unexpected directions he takes the story.

Character-wise, it just doesn’t get any better than this. Ranging from gods, shape-shifting soletaken, ghosts, and other inhuman creatures to wizards, assassins, soldiers, and whatnot, Steven Erikson covers a whole spectrum of personalities that is shocking in its diversity, the extreme number of viewpoints, and the surprising depth that he offers each character, even down to the meaningless nobody who only gets 2-3 pages of face-time. Specifically, Erikson writers characters that are 1) undeniably iconic — Karsa Orlong, Anomander Rake, Tehol Beddict, Bugg, Cotillion, Iskaral Pust, Icarium, Apsalar, Kalam, Quick Ben, and most of the Bridgeburners / Bonehunters are personal favorites 2) easy to care for, and 3) wonderfully complex, possessing layers underneath layers that superbly shades the area between good and evil. And let’s not forget the audacity in which Steven handles his characters. In other words, minor players become major players, heroes become villains, villains become heroes, new characters are continuously introduced, and no one is safe from death. In short, expect the unexpected.

Of the magic system that is found in the Malazan books, I can’t say that it’s the most original or best developed concept that I’ve ever read — personally I prefer the Allomancy/Feruchemy ideas found in Brandon Sanderson’s Mistborn series — but it is one of the coolest. A lot of that has to do with how ridiculously powerful the magic can be, resulting in a number of seriously badass characters and destructive confrontations that, along with much of the series’ thrilling action sequences, are written with tremendous flair.

Lastly, I absolutely love the tone of the books, which is a darker, grittier and more realistic approach to fantasy — there’s cursing, obvious sexual innuendo, and viscerally descriptive scenes of violence offset by a healthy dose of black and witty humor — that reminded me a lot of Glen Cook’s excellent Black Company novels. Not surprisingly, the author is a huge influence of Mr. Erikson’s and Reaper’s Gale was actually dedicated to Glen Cook.

Individually, Gardens of the Moon (Volume I) is usually considered the weakest book in the series, mainly because of structural issues that make it somewhat confusing to read, but for me Midnight Tides (Vol V) is actually my least favorite of the ones released so far, although I have a much greater appreciation for the novel after completing Reaper’s Gale. I’m not sure if there’s any one book that I enjoyed more than the others, but volumes II through IV — Deadhouse Gates, Memories of Ice, and House of Chains — were all excellent and I also really enjoyed The Bonehunters (Volume VI). As far as Reaper’s Gale, the seventh volume in the Malazan sequence is easily the longest book in the series thus far (900+ pages), but I wouldn’t say it was the strongest. Personally, I thought the story moved slower than it normally has, and a number of the subplots like the Letherii/Edur politics weren’t as compelling, but as usual the payoffs at the end were just mind-blowing and absolutely worth the journey. In fact, I’d have to say that some of the revelations and resolutions in the book were the best in the series, particularly those involving Onrack, Beak, Trull Sengar, Hedge, Toc the Younger, Tehol Beddict, and Bugg; although there were a couple of storylines — regarding Redmask and Karsa Orlong — that were underwhelming. Each volume in the Tales of the Malazan Book of the Fallen has its share of strengths and weaknesses if you look at them separately, but only by viewing the series as a whole can readers truly grasp the brilliance and significance behind Erikson’s masterful epic.

I highly recommend Steven Erikson’s Tales of the Malazan Book of the Fallen to anyone who hasn’t discovered the series yet — which I feel is still vastly underrated despite all of the acclaim that it’s received so far — especially if you call yourself a fan of fantasy. Granted, I understand that the series won’t appeal to everyone considering the overwhelming number of characters and viewpoints, the non-linear narrative, the darker tone of the books and the series’ immense complexity and ambitiousness, but even if Erikson’s Malazan novels sound like nothing you would normally read, at least give it a try. Otherwise you’d be missing out on one of, if not the most, seminal work of fantasy fiction to be published in the 21st century. Erikson’s Tales of the Malazan Book of the Fallen is easily the best fantasy series that I have ever read. —Robert Thompson

Dust of Dreams

So, a long-running, massive multi-volume fantasy epic is winding to a close, a close so big that the last book actually has to be split, and it’s still 800 pages long. What’s that? No, this is the other long-running massive multi-volume split-the-last-book fantasy epic. Not The Wheel of Time but Steven Erikson’s Malazan series, whose penultimate book, Dust of Dreams, moves us nearly to the close. And if I had to choose only one LRMMVSTLB fantasy epic for newbies to start? Sorry, Robert Jordan and Brandon Sanderson fans (and I’m mostly both), but Malazan would be the one.

But really, who’m I talking to here? There aren’t any newbies reading a review of book nine in this series. You’re only reading this if you’ve already read books 1-8 (if you haven’t, then why are you reading this?). And let’s face it, if you’ve read the first 7000 pages or so, do you really care what I have to say about the most recent 800? Are you really going to stop now? Didn’t think so.

And what could I tell you anyway? Am I going to summarize the plot for you? Are you kidding me? You all know what an Erikson plot is like. Summarizing it would take up 200 pages by itself. Here are a couple of bones (pun may be intended): Readying themselves for a battle most believe will be their last, Tavore and the Bonehunters are about to march into the Wastelands and join with the Khundryl Burned Tears and the Perish Grey Helms, who are already heading there and having issues with kingdom they have to cross to get there. Meanwhile, the K'Chain Che'Malle are out recruiting for a Mortal Sword and Shield. Meanwhile, the Shake are on the move. And there are about a dozen more “meanwhile’s” — it’s Erikson after all. We’ve got gods, ascendants, Jaghut, Imass, dragons, Assail, various Tistes, and the list goes on. We’ve got the Bonehunters of course, along with Silchas Ruin and Toc and Icarium and Draconus and Mappo and Tehol and the list goes on. Let’s just say the word for the day class is “Convergence.” And it really is with a capital C. (So much so that it might not be a bad idea to think about starting a re-read, at least for the final book — there are a lot of threads from the previous books, both large and small, that are starting to weave together and it will be a richer experience having them fresh in one’s mind, I’m thinking.)

We’ve got dead, undead, nearly dead, recently dead, long-ago dead, dead-then-not-so-dead, can’t-believe-he’s (she’s)-dead, thought-he (she)-was-dead and is-he (she)-really-dead? In fact, my favorite line in the book (and one that applies to much of the series) was, “does nothing dead ever go away around here?”

We’ve got a gripping, utterly kick-ass battle scene that rivals any of his best ones yet, and nobody does battle scenes like Erikson.

We’ve got lots of the usual introspection and philosophy; we’ve got grunts waxing wise and characters musing on topics ranging from environmental despoliation to aboriginal genocide to economics to ethics to monotheism and well, the list goes on. Some people could probably do without the quieter moments, or at least without so many, but I lapped them up in this one and while some felt a bit stilted, they never really slowed the book down for me. Or actually, they do slow the pace (one of their purposes, I’d argue) but I didn’t mind — they didn’t dull the pace may be a better way of saying it. These moments deepened the book beyond a simple bang-em-up plot (nothing wrong with a little actual thoughtfulness) and deepened characters as well.

Such scenes work on several levels — they bring Erikson’s themes to the forefront (though admittedly sometimes too bluntly so). They allow for a pause between all those frantic moments. And perhaps most importantly, by spending quiet “human” time with these characters, you find yourself caring what happens to them during those frantic moments. Erikson’s battle scenes are so effective, not simply for the magics-go-boom and swords-go-hack aspect, but because the combatants in those battles are real characters, not cardboard cutouts going through the motions. This impact is multiplied by the sheer length of time we’ve spent with some of these characters, such as Fiddler or Quick Ben. They’ve become old familiar friends by now and we cringe at what they go through.

Erikson’s trademark humor is here as well; there were many times I laughed out loud and even more where I simply chuckled or smiled to myself. Sometimes he may try a bit too hard (Tehol has a few such moments), but in general Erikson knows how to use his comic relief.

And he needs it in Dust of Dreams. It is grim. Grim in overall tone through much of it, grim in the sense of impending disaster always looming, grim in its thematic connections to what is happening in our own world. Beyond the baked-in bleakness that permeates the work, there are several individual scenes that are startlingly dark and horrific, some of which involve children, intensifying the impact greatly. Yet somehow, and this is something I think show Erikson at his best in this work, there is a counterbalance not just of easy humor but of hope: not cheesy hope that rides in with a magic talisman or a suddenly-revealed birthright, etc. but a longer-range almost kind of hopeless, heartbreaking hope. I don’t know anyone who does it as well as Erikson and it’s one of the major aspects of this series that separates it from so much other fantasy.

I’d rank Dust of Dreams in the top tier of a top-tier series, and it promises a hell of a close for the Malazan series. It ends, unfortunately, with a cliffhanger, but Dust of Dreams leaves you wanting more, not because of a few pages of cliffhanger, but because of the 7000 or so pages that came before. That’s some achievement. —Bill Capossere

The Crippled God

If you want a quick, partial sense of what’s in store in Steven Erikson’s The Crippled God, look no further than this conversation between two characters (to remain nameless so as to avoid spoilers):

“There are too many rogue players in this game. Icarium. Draconus. The First Sword of the T’lan Imass. Olar Ethil. Silchas Ruin, Tulas Shorn, Kilava — even Gruntle, the Mortal Sword of Treach. And now the Elient, and how many dragons have come or are coming through the gate? A hundred? A thousand? Oh, and the Elder Gods: Errastas, the past Master of the Tiles, and Kilmandaros and her son...”

“They — they’re all here?”

“Nobody said it’d be easy... what do you have to offer me?”

“Why, more good news... Let’s just add the K’Chain Che’Malle and the Jaghut, and oh... who knows how many slavering fanatics of the Wolves of Winter! And what about the Crippled God himself?”

“All right, it’s rather more complicated than I had imagined.”

Yes. Yes, it is. And let’s not forget a few others who play a role in The Crippled God, either in real time, flashback, visions, live, undead, or somewhere on the broadly-populated spectrum between mostly alive and mostly dead: Tavore, Fiddler, Hedge, The Bonehunters, the Bridgeburners, the Forkrul Assail, the Shake, the Tiste Liosan, the White Face Barghast, the Otataral Dragon, Stormy and Gesler, Whiskeyjack, Karsa, Tool, Toc, Quick Ben, Torrent, the Imass, Nimander, Korlat, Kalam, Hood, Heboric, Apsal’ara, Ruthan Gudd, Sinn, Grub, Corabb, Bottle, Cuttle, Hellian, Krughava, Brys Beddict, Ublala Pung, Icarium, Mappo, Setoc, Badalle, Sandalath, K’rul, Mael, D’rek, Precious Thimble, Faint, Bent and Roach, and a host (literally) of others.

As for plot points, well, we’ve got the Liosan trying to breach Lightfall and the Shake trying to hold them off; Tavore and the Bonehunters trying to cross the uncrossable Glass Desert to face the Forkrul Assail while several other armies aim to strike Kolanse from different directions and the Perish try to figure out just which side they’re on, the Snake continuing to seek some sort of haven, various individual agendas, and the long-running series arc of just what to do about that title character. These major plot lines are pretty much fully resolved in The Crippled God, as are questions such as what happened to Quick Ben, Ruthan Gudd, Kalam, and Icarium, but if anyone is expecting to have all his/her questions from the previous dozen or so books in the series neatly lined up and knocked down chapter after chapter, well, I’ve got to wonder just what series you’ve been reading. Lots of relatively major story/character arcs are either lightly touched upon or not touched upon at all, and the same holds true for that list we’ve all been compiling of those “but how...” or “why did...” or “what caused...” kinds of questions. And it wouldn’t be a Malaz book if various new questions didn’t arise to add to that list. That said, The Crippled God is a fully satisfying book; those unresolved plot issues don’t hang over the novel like a cheap TV series cliffhanger and I can’t say I felt any sort of void due to some questions remaining unanswered.

Characters continue to evolve all the way to the very end, changing not arbitrarily but due to evolving circumstances, something that happens all too rarely in other fantasies, where the character you meet on page one is often no different than the character you meet on page 501. Or, if Erikson’s characters themselves haven’t changed, our perceptions of them and responses to them change as we see them from a different angle or in a different light (or Shadow. Or Darkness). Think, for instance, of how we originally view the interaction between the Imass and Jaghut, whose relationship continues to unfold in unexpected fashion almost to the very last pages of The Crippled God. Anybody who has read to this point knows things aren’t always as they first appear in this world, and this continues to be true in The Crippled God, not least for the titular character. Not all enemies are truly enemies — or remain enemies — and the same holds true for allies.

Meanwhile, while some plot points or character actions may be unexpected, others will surprise you by just how long ago they were set up, assuming you can remember that far back and in that kind of detail. Honestly, only a complete self-contained re-read will give you a full appreciation of the careful brick-laying that led to The Crippled God (luckily we’re doing just that at TOR.com!). I’m I sure don’t have a full appreciation myself — and I just reread all the prior books at the end of this summer, have gone chapter by chapter through the first two in our TOR reread, and reread books 3-5 yet again in the past two weeks in an insane attempt to get through the whole series again before writing this review. Aside from appreciating the craftsmanship, being able to recall just when you first met a particular character or heard a particular reference adds a nice little frisson to the reading experience.

The action rises and falls in nicely balanced fashion. The Shake battle against the Liosan is a major high point and comes early enough so as not to dilute the later battles in Kolanse, which have their own grand moments. Moments of high tension/action are relieved by the trademark Malazan humor, which is emphatically on display, whether it be sapper or marine humor, the cynical wordplay between officers and soldiers, or the banter between long-time friends and partners. But while the action at times races the pulse and thrills the blood (think “The Wickans! The Wickans! The Wickans!”), and the dialogue has its spit-take-laugh-out-loud-soda-up-the-nose-read-aloud-to-your-wife moments, for me what has always separated this series from most other fantasy, beyond its sheer size and complexity, has been its thought-provoking nature (what is civilized, how do we live with each other and with what we do, can we learn from history?) and its focus on people, either as individuals or as a whole.

I know some grow weary of flitting between the thoughts of a multitude of “secondary” characters, and those readers will have some issues with The Crippled God as there’s a good amount of that in the latter half. But it’s Erikson’s unwillingness to dismiss characters to the abyss of “secondary” that helps raise The Malazan Book of the Fallen above a lot of other work. It reminds me of Death of a Salesman: “I don’t say he’s a great man... but he’s a human being... Attention, attention must finally be paid to such a person.” Erikson drags us to pay attention to those who aren’t “great.”

And when he doesn’t grab us by the collar and make us look at individuals, he forces us to stare at humanity, though it’s often not a pretty picture: despoilers of nature, hunters to extinction, killers of children (the line “children are dying” haunts this entire series), destroyers perhaps finally of ourselves when we’re left with no others to set ourselves against. There are moments in this book where you find yourself actually nodding in agreement with arguments for the complete annihilation of all humanity. And yet, a few pages later you’re glorying in the sheer audacity of humanity, its cussed defiance, and marveling at the capacity in individuals and groups, if not the species as a whole, for compassion, a word I’ve long said was a key theme to this series.

And these are the scenes that will move you — thick throat, damp eyes — it happened on several occasions and then did so again at those same scenes on my second read. There are scenes here that will stab you in the chest and break the cold iron point of the dagger off in your heart so that the pain stays with you long after you’ve turned the page, and it’s a pain so beautiful you’re glad it does, despite the ache. There are the obvious such moments: death scenes, (and there are a good number of those), last stands (lots of those too), suicidal charges (more than one). But the ones that pierce more sharply are those small moments involving not death but life: compassion amidst horror, sacrifice amidst evil, consolation in the face of terror — a shared drop of water, the naming of a child, the combing of someone’s hair. And expressions of love in all its forms: romantic, familial, the love among soldiers, the love between friends, the fierce doomed love of and for children, and perhaps most breathtakingly unexpected, the love for a stranger.

The Crippled God isn’t perfect, of course. As mentioned before, some will wish Erikson hadn’t felt the need to dip into so many “regular soldiers’” heads. Others may find themselves more frustrated than I did over the lack of resolution/explanation for certain characters or plot points, while some will bemoan the lack of page-time for their favorite characters, always an issue with such a huge cast. I found the Forkrul Assail a bit underwhelming for how they’ve been built up, though I’ve long sort of resigned myself to shrugging over the various power level interactions in the series. But these and a few other niggling issues pale in comparison to the emotional sweep of the characters and the narrative drive of long-running plot threads coming together into a fully-visioned tapestry.

For most, I think The Crippled God will live up to its place as the closing chapter of a work that, I believe, stands as the preeminent fantasy of the past 20 years and belongs high up on the short list of best ever. We are not done with the Malazan universe; both Steven Erikson and Ian Esslemont have detailed forthcoming works set in the same world. But we are done with the Malazan Book of the Fallen. Done, if one can say this after nearly 10,000 pages, all too soon. Fiddler, Quick Ben, Whiskeyjack, Rake: After those near-10,000 pages (and the several rereads), I can’t say we hardly knew ‘ya, but I can say I wish we knew you longer. Luckily, we can know you again and again just by pulling you off the shelf. And I envy those who’ll get to meet you for a first time.

I will set out scrolls and burn upon them the names of these Fallen... Hear them! They are humanity unfurled, laid out for all to see — if any would dare look!

Look. Dare.
—Bill Capossere