Guy Gavriel Kay

Stand-Alone Novels:

Tigana — (1990) Won the 1991 Aurora Award. Available for download at Audible.com. 
From Author's website: Tigana is set in the 'Peninsula of the Palm' a land evocative of Italy, in a world with two moons... Two sorcerors, one a petty lordling from Barbadior, the other the king of Ygrath, have come to the Peninsula from overseas, intent on conquest. Brandin, King of Ygrath, wants to carve out a realm for his beloved younger son, Stevan. Having conquered three of the nine provinces of the Palm, he sends Stevan to subjugate the next province whilst he faces Alberico, the other conqueror. Stevan is killed in battle by the people of that last province. Brandin, in bitterest grief, and in revenge against the people who killed his son, lays a curse on that province. After sweeping down and destroying the remnants of their army, burning their books and destroying their architecture and statuary, he makes it so that no one not born in that province can even hear its name. Tigana is a story of the struggle for identity and freedom in theface of brutal oppression.

Tigana

Tigana is a masterpiece.

It is difficult to summarize the plot, for so much of the story unfolds organically — indeed, as a near-perfect tainflower — that one fears to spoil the pleasure of becoming swept up in the narrative. That said, the tale concerns the Palm, a mythic penninsula reminiscent of Italy, a land divided between two wizard-conquerors. One conqueror has utterly blighted the province of Lower Corte with an undreamt-of dark magic. (Take a fresh look at the map of the Palm mid-way through, and you will grasp the immensity of the spell!) A handful of refugees must undo the spell... yet if the one wizard falls, the other will irrevocably gain control of the Palm, leaving the deadly choice: the breaking of the spell, interminable conquest... or, perhaps, perhaps, the smallest gleam of freedom.

Guy Gavriel Kay's writing flows well, as always, fresh and lyrical and soaked with human understanding. The first chapter is a work of genius for its perspective on the heroes' way of building toward their goal, as is the surprising revelation in the climax, and — perhaps most of all — the heart-tingling last paragraph. (Wait!) The only flaw is Baerd's strange, protracted battle with the Night-walkers (a touch cliched), and (just perhaps) a touch of gratuitous eroticism in Castle Borso. Even so, these flaws are minor and only faintly detract from the beauty of the whole.

"Tigana, may the memory of you be like a blade in my soul!" (And may GGK's work receive its just recognition). —Rob Rhodes

Tigana

Nobody remembers Tigana — a land bright with beauty, culture, and wealth — nobody but those who lived there before the land was cursed by the conqueror Brandin of Ygrath after the prince of Tigana killed Brandin's son in battle. When the now-oppressed Tiganese try to tell outsiders about Tigana, the name just slips out of the listener's mind. Only those born in the land are able to keep its beautiful name in memory.

But the prince of Tigana's son still lives and he and his companions plan to restore their land's name. But, not only must they kill Brandin of Ygrath, but also Alberico of Barbadior, who rules the other half of their peninsula. Otherwise, they will merely be consumed by a different tyrant.

I was entranced by Tigana right from the first page. What I noticed immediately was the passion — this is a story lovingly wrought by an author who loves language, loves his characters, and loves the world he's created. Guy Gavriel Kay's prose is heavy with imagery and emotion yet it reads, for the most part, easily (except for the occasional unexpected shift in point-of-view).

Kay's characters are distinct, well-developed, and likable. The prince's companions are a diverse group, each with his/her own personality, strengths, and weaknesses. The actions and motives of the villains are completely understandable — in fact, I felt sympathetic toward them.

The story of the struggle to free Tigana was fascinating. There were some slightly unbelievable or contrived plot devices, but the rest of the story was excellent enough that I was perfectly happy to overlook them. The end was surprising and bittersweet.

I listened to most of Tigana on audio (and read some it in print). Simon Vance is the reader, and he is one of the very best. If you're an audiobook listener, I'd definitely suggest that format for Tigana. But, either way, Tigana is a must-read. —Kat Hooper

A Song for Arbonne — (1992) Available for download at Audible.com.  Publisher: Arbonne is a lush, fertile land near the sea, and its people revere music and the Goddess Rian. In Gorhaut, the God Corannos and war are the only considerations. These two countries are on a collision course, which ends in a war where brother fight father — and a life-long friendship ends in death.

A Song for Arbonne

In this homage to the troubadours and the "court of love" of medieval France, Guy Gavriel Kay comes down from the dizzying heights of The Fionavar Tapestry trilogy and creates a beautiful and memorable tale of mere mortals ensnared by political intrigue, enmity and love. (GGK does allude to Fionavar quite nicely, however, in a brief lullaby.)

While the plot is perhaps too complex for adequate summarization here, it's certainly not too complex for your reading pleasure. At the heart of this tale of an alternate medieval reality is Blaise of Gorhaut (Germany), a knight who has traveled to "sun-blessed" Arbonne (France) for the primary purpose of leaving his past behind. As events unfold, however, Blaise is carried higher and higher into the ranks of Arbonne's ruling class, and soon he must confront the daunting destiny that his past has placed before him...

Guy Gavriel Kay writes well, as always, and like a good troubadour, he pays tribute to the fantasy genre while ensuring that the reader/listener is surprised and touched by his work. Perhaps most importantly, GGK believes in the beauty of Art and power of Art's beauty to make more beautiful the things which it depicts, in this case Mankind, Men and Women striving to preserve what is good and noble — that is, to ensure that life's music does not become harsh noise, but remains forever a soft, bright song... (Thus savor the book's lyric harmonies.) —Rob Rhodes

A Song for Arbonne (on audio)

Blaise, a sellsword from Gorhaut (a violent and chauvinistic northern country), has moved to the warmer country of Arbonne. Blaise doesn’t have much appreciation or tolerance for Arbonne’s womanly culture which is highly influenced by the Court of Love. He also doesn’t have much hope that Arbonne — which values singers over soldiers, and troubadours over troops — will put up much of a fight if Gorhaut decides to try to eradicate Arbonne’s goddess worship.  But what is Blaise doing in Arbonne anyway? Is he hiding, or is he spying?

I immediately fell in love with Blaise, whom we meet as he’s commanding a small group of soldiers who are sneaking onto the holy island of Arbonne’s goddess. They plan to kidnap a troubadour who is sulking after being humiliated by his employer’s wife who screamed loudly when he tried to make good on her disingenuous flirtations. Blaise thinks all of this is incredibly ridiculous and he has little confidence in the men he commands. How can they be manly when they live in this gentle culture?

I guess I liked Blaise because I was thinking the same thing: these guys are a bunch of wusses and this courtly society is shallow and immoral. But Blaise and I learned that when their lives and lifestyle are threatened, the passionate people of Arbonne respond.

Much of the novel’s background information is delivered by several characters’ emotional interior monologues, a technique I like when it’s not overdone to the point that it really slows the action. It’s nearly over-the-top in A Song for Arbonne, but I liked Blaise so much that it worked for me when we were in his head (I won’t mention the occasional head-hopping). I can imagine, however, that this style won’t suit all readers. Kay invests his work with a lot of passion, and sometimes I can sense the purposeful manipulation of my emotions with his fervid prose. A writer is supposed to elicit feeling from me, but I don’t want to notice it happening.

The plot of A Song for Arbonne is original and interesting, though some of the antagonists’ motivations, revealed at the end, seem contrived. I might have believed them if they’d been hinted at earlier, and this would also have helped the bad guys not seem so one-dimensionally bad. 

But overall, A Song for Arbonne is a beautiful, sumptuous, emotional novel. I listened to this on audio, performed by Euan Morton. This was the first time I’d heard Mr. Morton and I thought he was perfect for this title. He did a terrific job. —Kat Hooper

The Lions of Al-Rassan — (1995) Publisher: The ruling Asharites of Al-Rassan have come from the desert sands, but over centuries, seduced by the sensuous pleasures of their new land, their stern piety has eroded. The Asharite empire has splintered into decadent city-states led by warring petty kings. King Almalik of Cartada is on the ascendancy, aided always by his friend and advisor, the notorious Ammar ibn Khairan — poet, diplomat, soldier — until a summer afternoon of savage brutality changes their relationship forever. Meanwhile, in the north, the conquered Jaddites' most celebrated — and feared — military leader, Rodrigo Belmonte, driven into exile, leads his mercenary company south. In the dangerous lands of Al-Rassan, these two men from different worlds meet and serve — for a time — the same master. Sharing their interwoven fate — and increasingly torn by her feelings — is Jehane, the accomplished court physician, whose own skills play an increasing role as Al-Rassan is swept to the brink of holy war, and beyond. Hauntingly evocative of medieval Spain, The Lions of Al-Rassan is both a brilliant adventure and a deeply compelling story of love, divided loyalties, and what happens to men and women when hardening beliefs begin to remake — or destroy — a world.

The Last Light of the Sun — (2004) Publisher: Guy Gavriel Kay turns his gaze to the northlands, brilliantly evoking the Viking, Anglo-Saxon and Celtic cultures of a turbulent age. There is nothing soft or silken about the north. The lives of men and women are as challenging as the climate and lands in which they dwell. For generations, the Erlings of Vinmark have taken their dragon-prowed ships across the seas, raiding the lands of the Cyngael and Anglcyn peoples, leaving fire and death behind. But times change, even in the north, and in a tale woven with consummate artistry, people of all three cultures find the threads of their lives unexpectedly brought together… Bern Thorkellson, punished for his father's sins, commits an act of vengeance and desperation that brings him face-to-face, acrossthe sea, with a past he's been trying to leave behind. In the Anglcyn lands of King Aeldred, the shrewd king, battling inner demons all the while, shores up his defenses with alliances and diplomacy — and with swords and arrows — while his exceptional, unpredictable sons and daughters pursue their own desires when battle comes and darkness falls in the woods. And in the valleys and shrouded hills of the Cyngael, whose voices carry music even as they feud and raid amongst each other, violence and love become deeply interwoven when the dragon ships come and Alun ab Owyn, chasing an enemy in the night, glimpses strange lights gleaming above forest pools.

The Last Light of the Sun

The Last Light of the Sun is another of Guy Gavriel Kay’s brilliant historical fantasies. This one blends Norse, Celtic, and Anglo-Saxon histories with a bit of faerie mythos. We follow a few main characters from each of these societies as they interact with each other to shape their land and destinies. As usual in a Guy Gavriel Kay novel, we see the struggles from each perspective, so there’s no single “hero” or “villain.” We understand what motivates each of the characters and their culture and we can admire their strengths and recognize their weaknesses. In the end, we want everyone to win but, of course, that’s not what happens.

I thought the cast of The Last Light of the Sun was not as accessible or compelling as that of Tigana and A Song for Arbonne (though I really loved a couple of the side characters, especially Judit and her brother Athelbert) but, as always, each is a work of art. All of GGK’s characters (even the minor ones) are passionate people full of hopes, fears, dreams, and plenty of spirit. This complete characterization — the reader’s ability to be fully in the head of the point-of-view character — is one of the things that sets this author above others. It occasionally makes the plot move slowly, because there may be a lot of history and motivation to relate, but it’s usually interwoven so well that it serves to give us necessary information while moving the plot at the same time. Here’s an example from the beginning of the book from the point of view of a character who we’ll never meet again:

Here in the remote, pagan north, at this wind-scoured island market of Rabady, he was anxious to begin trading his leather and cloth and spices and bladed weapons for furs and amber and salt and heavy barrels of dried cod (to sell in Ferrieres on the way home) — and to take immediate leave of these barbarian Erlings, who stank of fish and beer and bear grease, who could kill a man in a bargaining over prices, and who burned their leaders — savages that they were — on ships among their belongings when they died.

Just as the people that GGK writes about are full of passion, so is his writing. Kay is so serious about his style — obviously working hard to get it just right — that it’s a joy to read, even though occasionally it goes just slightly over the top:

She said nothing, though he thought she was about to. Instead, she stepped nearer, rose upon her toes, and kissed him on the lips, tasting of moonlight, though it was dark where they stood, except for her. The blue moon outside, above, shining over his own lands, hers, over the seas. He brought his hands up, touched her hair. He could see the small, shining impossibility of her. A faerie in his arms.

Tasting of moonlight? I’m going to let that one pass…

There’s also quite a bit of philosophizing in The Last Light of the Sun, mainly about how an individual’s actions can have unexpected and life-changing effects on others. Some of this was relayed in a few vignettes in which we’re quickly told the rest of the life history of very minor characters. These episodes were meant to be contemplative, but I found them intrusive since they felt rushed (decades of life summed up in a few paragraphs), broke up the plot, involved characters whom I didn’t care about, and contained repetitive insights about the uncertainty of life or the tendency for seemingly small actions to have long-lasting consequences. Perhaps more pensive persons will appreciate these parts. Fortunately, they were short, so they didn’t preclude my enjoyment of the novel.

I listened to The Last Light of the Sun on audio (Penguin Audiobooks). Holter Graham did an excellent reading. I hope to hear more from him in the future. —Kat Hooper

Ysabel — (2007) Publisher: Saint-Saveur Cathedral of Aix-en-Provence is an ancient structure of many secrets — a perfect monument to fill the lens of a celebrated photographer, and a perfect place for thephotographer's son, Ned Marriner, to losehimself while his father works. But the cathedral isn't the empty edifice it appears to be. Its history is very much alive in the present day — and it's calling out to Ned.

Ysabel

What can I say about this book? If I see a new Guy Gavriel Kay book on the shelf at the bookstore, I buy it. It didn’t work out this time, though, and the reason is that the way this story is told makes no sense to me as a reader, and I cannot fathom why Kay wrote this book from the perspective of a teenager.

The story is about a fifteen year-old boy from Canada who accompanies his father, a world-renowned photographer, on a trip to Provence (southern France). Very quickly into this trip, the characters get caught up in a centuries-old love triangle contest to win the love of Ysabel, which has been waged between a Gaul and a Roman for over 2000 years.  The book is short enough that summarizing the plot further will spoil it completely.

What is good about this book? Kay’s lyrical style has always enthralled me, and I must say that it shone through in several parts of the book. The descriptive passages put me in Provence, and I could almost smell coffee and French cigarettes at times, and feel the strong Mediterranean sunshine. The fantasy part of the book was typical of Kay’s historical fantasy style, but it could have used much more explanation. Kay’s research, as always, is impeccable. The historical detail that I expected was present throughout the book.

What did I not like about this book? I was severely let down. I have read every novel that Guy Gavriel Kay has done, but Ysabel was truly disappointing. The telling of the story from the teenager’s point of view did not work. It seemed juvenile instead of new, like the idea of a new writer doing a coming-of-age novel. The dialogue was appropriate, but that may be what I didn’t like, because it was teenagers talking. Also, the mixing of the modern world and the fantastic and magical of Gallic France didn’t work for me. There is a direct tie-in to Kay’s brilliant Fionavar Tapestry, but it was not done in a way that I liked. My overall impression was of a book that was quick. Quickly planned and quickly written, and published more-or-less as a filler between Last Light of the Sun and whatever great Kay novel will come up with next. Perhaps this was a short story that was turned into a novel, but there was not enough plot to go around. The characters were similarly superficially explored. There was also great potential for digging into a family dispute going back decades that was resolved a little too easily.

I am keeping this book, merely to keep my Kay collection complete, and I give it two stars for the good bits. Don’t buy the hardcover, unless like me you want a complete Kay collection. Buy the softcover for a quick beach read and wait for Guy Gavriel Kay to return to form with his next book. —Angus Bickerton

Under Heaven — (2010) Synopsis: Shen Tai is the son of a general who led the forces of imperial Kitai in the empire’s last great war against its western enemies, twenty years before. Forty thousand men, on both sides, were slain by a remote mountain lake. General Shen Gao himself has died recently, having spoken to his son in later years about his sadness in the matter of this terrible battle. To honour his father’s memory, Tai spends two years in official mourning alone at the battle site by the blue waters of Kuala Nor. Each day he digs graves in hard ground to bury the bones of the dead. At night he can hear the ghosts moan and stir, terrifying voices of anger and lament. Sometimes he realizes that a given voice has ceased its crying, and he knows that is one he has laid to rest. The dead by the lake are equally Kitan and their Taguran foes; there is no way to tell the bones apart, and he buries them all with honour. It is during a routine supply visit led by a Taguran officer who has reluctantly come to befriend him that Tai learns that others, much more powerful, have taken note of his vigil. The White Jade Princess Cheng-wan, 17th daughter of the Emperor of Kitai, presents him with two hundred and fifty Sardian horses. They are being given in royal recognition of his courage and piety, and the honour he has done the dead. Yougave a man one of the famed Sardian horses to reward him greatly. You gave him four or five to exalt him above his fellows, propel him towards rank, and earn him jealousy, possibly mortal jealousy. Two hundred and fiftyis an unthinkable gift, a gift to overwhelm an emperor. Tai is in deep waters. He needs to get himself back tocourt and his own emperor, alive. Riding the first of the Sardian horses, and bringing news of the rest, he starts east towards the glittering, dangerous capital of Kitai, and the Ta-Ming Palace — and gathers his wits for a return from solitude by a mountain lake to his own forever-altered life.

Under Heaven

 Under Heaven is the long-awaited new novel by master fantasist Guy Gavriel Kay — and let's get the most important news out of the way: it was 100% worth the wait.

Fans of Guy Gavriel Kay know that his novels often take place in what appear to be fantasy versions of real countries: A Song for Arbonne is set in 13th century France, The Lions of Al-Rassan in Spain during the Moorish occupation, and so on. Likewise, Under Heaven once again gently blends history and fantasy, taking place in Kitai, a country strongly reminiscent of China, during the Tang dynasty.

Here we meet Shen Tai, who is honoring his recently deceased father (a famed general) by burying the dead at the ghost-ridden site of a major battle. One fateful morning during this long, lonely exile, he learns that he has been given a gift that's literally fit for royalty: 250 Heavenly Horses. This sudden wealth could catapult him to the highest levels of society... or put a huge target on his back.

It's hard to imagine a better hook to drag readers into this story, and once the plot gets going, it never loses momentum, introducing new characters and revealing details about Shen Tai's past at a steady pace. The slow unfolding of the plot, involving various family members and former acquaintances of Shen Tai, is one of the most enjoyable aspects of this novel, so I won't include any further plot summary and leave the rest for you to discover and enjoy. Suffice it to say that you'll have trouble putting this novel down, once you get started.

Once again, Guy Gavriel Kay's work straddles the line between historical fiction and fantasy. It's a testament to his talent that he can bring a historical period, especially one many people may know little about, to life in such vivid, believable fashion. Rest assured, there are definite fantasy elements here, but the novel has firm roots in the actual history, and reworks and remixes many elements from the actual Tang period. Just hit up Wikipedia for "Tang Dynasty," and you'll immediately recognize several historical personages and events that the author has included in some form in Under Heaven. But no worries: even if you have no interest in the historical underpinning of the novel, you'll have no problems at all understanding and enjoying the story.

Another pillar of Guy Gavriel Kay's works is the strong characterization, and Under Heaven doesn't disappoint. For me, the most memorable characters, aside from Shen Tai, were Sima Zian, the bon vivant poet, and Wen Jian, the Precious Consort of the Emperor, whose character arc in this novel is simply unforgettable.

And finally, next to the historical base and characterization, the third aspect of Guy Gavriel Kay's work that can't be ignored is the prose. Like his previous works, this novel is filled with beautiful imagery and the most delicate dialogue you'll find in current fantasy. It may not make complete sense to call descriptive prose "courteous," but that's the one word that comes to mind: just like the careful speaking style of some of the characters, who can imply so much while saying so little, and who occasionally make an exclamation or pose a question without employing the expected tone or punctuation and instead using the carefully measured weight of every word, Guy Gavriel Kay often uses a subtle, even understated way to describe events, places and people. You could imagine someone narrating this story in a soft, muted tone, eyes lowered, respectfully letting the words speak for themselves while not trying to let emotion impinge on their meaning. It's a gorgeous balancing act, and a rare pleasure to read.

This is one of those novels that's so good, you'll occasionally close the book after finishing a chapter, just to enjoy and savor what you've read before moving on. While I admire everything Guy Gavriel Kay has written recently, his newest novel is easily my favorite novel by him since 1995's The Lions of Al-Rassan. Expect to see Under Heaven on the short list for all the major awards next year, and do yourself a favor: pick up a copy. —Stefan Raets

Under Heaven (on audio)

Guy Gavriel Kay’s latest historical fantasy, Under Heaven, is gorgeous. If you’re already a fan of GGK, you know exactly what kind of delight you’re in for. Under Heaven is every bit as wonderful as Tigana, A Song for Arbonne, and The Last Light of the Sun. Every bit.

Under Heaven takes place in Kitai — an alternate Tang Dynasty (but not so alternate that you won’t recognize the names of many of the characters if you read just a brief history of the Tang Dynasty). The civilization and culture is experiencing a golden age and family honor is one of the highest ideals. Shen Tai, in order to honor his dead father, has spent two solitary years burying the bones — and silencing the ghosts — of thousands of men who died in a battle between Kitai and neighboring Tagur. Just as his mourning period is about to end, three strange things happen almost simultaneously: a friend shows up with urgent news from the capital city Xinan, an assassin is sent to kill Shen Tai, and the princess of Tagur gives Shen Tai 250 Sardian horses — an incomprehensibly valuable gift that instantly catapults him to the highest ranks of Xinan society. Now Shen Tai must journey back to Xinan, he’s got assassins on his tail, he doesn’t know who he can trust, and he has no idea that war is brewing and his return may be the catalyst.

I’ve already said that Under Heaven is just as gorgeous as Kay’s previous historical fantasies: It’s well-researched, carefully constructed, tightly plotted, and beautifully written. The mingling of the real and the magical is delicate — there are no wizards or wands, but just the acknowledgement of the existence of the supernatural and the weird. Most impressively, GGK’s work is always full of poetry, passion, and life. His characters, those who play major roles and minor ones, feel like real people and, whether we like them or not, we come to understand their histories, motivations, frustrations, and desires. We smile when they laugh, our hearts race when they’re afraid, and we cry when they mourn.

Another feature that sets Kay’s historical fantasies apart from others is his ability to completely immerse us in a real culture without telling us that he’s doing so. Some historical writers feel the need to drop names, exposit, and lecture. In contrast, Guy Gavriel Kay brings a historical period to life without making us feel like we’re reading a textbook or that we’re required to admire his research and knowledge. Since we spend most of our time in Mr. Kay’s characters’ heads, I also appreciate that these characters are all fictional (Mr. Kay explains why he does it this way in the introduction and I completely agree with his philosophy).

I read Penguin Audio’s version of Under Heaven, narrated by Simon Vance. For years Mr. Vance has been one of my favorite narrators, and he’s wonderful here, as usual. If you’re an audiobook reader, you’ll definitely want to try this version read by the incomparable Mr. Vance (download here). Regardless, you don’t want to miss Under Heaven — it may be the best fantasy novel of 2010. —Kat Hooper

Under Heaven

After the death of his father, a general of Kitai's army, second son Shen Tai retreats from the empire's dazzling capital of Xinan to spend the ritual period of mourning with 40,000 ghosts. In the breathtaking valley of Kuala Nor, near the border of Kitai and Tagur, the empire with which Kitai has established a truce, Tai spends two years alone, burying soldiers of both empires, a task beyond the power of any one man. His simple solitude is broken, however, by disruptions from both West and East: from Tagur, a decree that its court has chosen to reward his effort with the incomprehensibly generous gift of 250 purebred 'Heavenly Horses"; and from Kitai, the arrival of a message-bearing friend. Both compel Tai to end his solitude and return to Xinan. But as a man now unique in all the empire, marked by his time at Kuala Nor and the value of the coveted horses, Tai will find that all of his education and courage, and the guidance of friends old and new, may not be enough to preserve his life, or the empire itself, as the ambitions and flaws of its citizens collide under heaven.

Under Heaven (Roc/Penguin, hardcover, 567 pages, $26.95 cover price) is the latest stand-alone novel by award-winning Canadian author Guy Gavriel Kay. For those familiar with Kay's work, little more need be said. Under Heaven is vintage Guy Gavriel Kay, another elegant, captivating work by a master at the height of his powers. For those unfamiliar with the author's method, some background: Guy Gavriel Kay begins creating a novel by focusing on a particular time and place. In The Lions of Al-Rassan, for example, it was reconquest-era Spain, and in A Song for Arbonne, the France of the troubadours. Here, it is China during the Tang Dynasty of the 8th century. Guy Gavriel Kay then researches the setting meticulously, distills its flavor and essence, and transfers them into an alternate, often magical world, thereby freeing them from the limitations of history and what we believe to be impossible. The result is sweeping, intoxicating storytelling at its finest.

Although Guy Gavriel Kay's work is often called 'historical fantasy', make no mistake: the presence of magic is rare, but all the more magical because of that rarity. At the same time, Kay's increasingly spare but lyrical prose, and his nuanced insights into character and situation, excel at revealing that lives, relationships, and stories are themselves abundantly magical. In a Kay novel, and Under Heaven is no exception, a reader will find elements of family, religion, politics, war, sex, death, and poetry, interwoven into a vivid tapestry that will engage both mind and heart. Moreover — and in this way Kay's work separates itself from much commercial fantasy and historical fiction and earns the distinction of 'literature' — the tapestry is never presented as a complete or completely known composition, but rather as one encompassing both the shadows of the past (in Under Heaven, the legacies of Tai's father and the former prime minister) and the misted veil of the future. It is inaccurate to say that Guy Gavriel Kay's work offers unequivocally happy endings, but they are, nonetheless, unequivocally satisfying. (The last line of Tigana, for example, is still the most vague, wondrous, and memorable last line of any fantasy novel I've read — but it only achieves its full impact if you've read the entire book, so take care not to spoil it for yourself.)

I highly recommend Under Heaven for readers familiar with Guy Gavriel Kay's work or anyone who enjoys historical, fantasy, or literary fiction. It's simply a beautiful and epic tale. The only readers who may not enjoy it as much are those who prefer action-oriented page-turners, who grow frustrated by extreme subtlety or nuance in dialogue or circumstance, or who demand closure and explanation for every plot thread in a tale. This is a novel to savor outside on a gorgeous day, by lamplight with a glass of wine, or in any other place in which the distance between past and present, between this world and the world of legends, diminishes to the thinness of a page.

If the current field of fantasy literature were imagined as a sprawling chateau, with the largest spaces being the armor-crowded trophy room of medieval fantasy and the strobe-lit, vampire-haunted ballroom of urban fantasy, Guy Gavriel Kay's works would form a niche — a quiet, starlit courtyard brightened by blossoms and faint music, a enchanted sanctuary which, once found, is never forgotten. —Rob Rhodes