Fantasy With A Twist
Nov. 21st, 2007 07:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mtvesselSep 2007
The Riddle-Master’s Game - Patricia A. McKillip - Gollancz, 2001
* * * *
If, on a quiet evening, you should find yourself in the vicinity of Wolvercote, North Oxford, you will hear a faint whirring noise. The sound is Professor J.R.R. Tolkien spinning in his grave as yet another Lord of the Rings-inspired fantasy trilogy hits the book shelves. He has only himself to blame, of course; the themes of epic fantasy (a hero with a hidden birthright; prophecies that must be fulfilled; a Dark Lord who is a point source for all evil in the land; a humanoid dark race who are his minions; a brewing war for survival; magical abilities possessed only by the select few; items of power; women reduced to bit parts) have been present in folk tales and myths from around the world for centuries, but his unique achievement was to bring them together into a narrative that would lodge itself like crack cocaine in the brains of the vulnerable. Imitation being the sincerest form of flattery (and market demand the mother of (lack of) invention), it was inevitable that other authors would try to create their own takes on these epic themes without Professor Tolkien’s deep knowledge of the source material and painstaking attention to detail, with largely disastrous results. I would like to think, however, that Patricia McKillip’s trilogy may have slowed his post-mortem gyrations just a little.
It helps that McKillip has an allusive writing style that is not a million miles from Gene Wolfe’s, but her chief achievement is to find original takes on the standard themes. For a start the world where her story is set is not one where, in principle, very much can happen. The rulers of the various states are to a man (and token woman) benevolent and their rule peaceful, due in large part to the land-law, a preternatural awareness of every aspect of their kingdom that is passed from the ruler to their land-heir on death. Land-law is a gift of the High One, a legendary being that is the nearest thing to a god in McKillip’s world and who lives in the top left corner of the map where anyone prepared to cross miles of wilderness can visit him. Prophecies take the form of riddles which can be answered by riddle-masters in formal riddle-games (like that between Gollum and Bilbo in The Hobbit) - an unanswered riddle can be deadly, for it represents a source of uncertainty about the future, and a college has been set up to investigate them.
The protagonist of the first book, Morgon of Hed, is of course the Hero with a Destiny, but McKillip complicates matters by giving him not one but two to choose from. He has recently become the ruler of the small rural island community of Hed after the death of his parents at sea and therefore possesses the land-law, but he also has a talent for riddlery which may or may not be related to the three stars that mark his forehead. In typical Wolfian fashion, McKillip introduces us to him as he engages in a scrap with his siblings about a crown that his sister Tristan found while cleaning under his bed. It turns out that he won it in a dangerous riddle-game with a wraith called Peven which he neglected to tell anyone about (most writers would have started with a description of the riddle-game itself, but McKillip sensibly leaves that to our imaginations). Deth, the High One’s harpist who happens to be visiting, tells Morgon that it is not the only prize he has gained; the ruler of the neighbouring land of An has decreed that whoever wins Peven’s crown will become the husband of his daughter Raederle. As she is a flame-haired beauty, Morgon, despite some reservations, decides that he would rather like to marry her and sets off with Deth in tow to ask for her hand. Complications ensue.
The remainder of book one is a fairly typical fantasy bildungsroman as Morgon unearths some suppressed unanswered riddles in which he seems to figure and visits most of the significant locations on the map trying to find out what they mean, all the while pining for home (and Raederle) and menaced by sinister bad guys. The conflict engendered by his two destinies is nicely done (though the psychological effects of the land-law are not adequately explored) and the climax is surprising.
The subversion of the themes of epic fantasy continues in book two, which is told from Raederle’s point of view. Not content with sitting around waiting for things to happen to her, she too goes on a journey accompanied by two out of the three other female characters mentioned in book one and acquires powers which are not entirely welcome. As a solution to the problem of what to do in the middle volume of a trilogy it is brilliant and its woman’s-eye viewpoint is still strikingly original (is this the first epic fantasy with an all-female fellowship?), though when all is said and done Raederle’s adventures do not advance the main storyline to any great extent.
Book three is where McKillip’s limitations as a writer become apparent (the trilogy is one of her early works) as the juggling act between the personal and the epic becomes more problematic and the narrative resounds with the clang of dropped balls. Raederle herself is one issue; by the end of book two she has become a major figure, but McKillip clearly couldn’t work out what to do with her in book three with the result that a lot of her actions seem inconsequential and flighty. The riddle theme is sidelined, with those mentioned in book one never adequately answered, and the major characters’ powers seem to come and go at authorial whim. The climactic plot twists are also a tad predictable.
Nonetheless, as an original take on the themes of epic fantasy this trilogy has considerable merit. If Tolkien had been alive to read it, I think his verdict would have been “promising”, and I certainly want to know if her more recent works bear this out.
The Riddle-Master’s Game - Patricia A. McKillip - Gollancz, 2001
* * * *
If, on a quiet evening, you should find yourself in the vicinity of Wolvercote, North Oxford, you will hear a faint whirring noise. The sound is Professor J.R.R. Tolkien spinning in his grave as yet another Lord of the Rings-inspired fantasy trilogy hits the book shelves. He has only himself to blame, of course; the themes of epic fantasy (a hero with a hidden birthright; prophecies that must be fulfilled; a Dark Lord who is a point source for all evil in the land; a humanoid dark race who are his minions; a brewing war for survival; magical abilities possessed only by the select few; items of power; women reduced to bit parts) have been present in folk tales and myths from around the world for centuries, but his unique achievement was to bring them together into a narrative that would lodge itself like crack cocaine in the brains of the vulnerable. Imitation being the sincerest form of flattery (and market demand the mother of (lack of) invention), it was inevitable that other authors would try to create their own takes on these epic themes without Professor Tolkien’s deep knowledge of the source material and painstaking attention to detail, with largely disastrous results. I would like to think, however, that Patricia McKillip’s trilogy may have slowed his post-mortem gyrations just a little.
It helps that McKillip has an allusive writing style that is not a million miles from Gene Wolfe’s, but her chief achievement is to find original takes on the standard themes. For a start the world where her story is set is not one where, in principle, very much can happen. The rulers of the various states are to a man (and token woman) benevolent and their rule peaceful, due in large part to the land-law, a preternatural awareness of every aspect of their kingdom that is passed from the ruler to their land-heir on death. Land-law is a gift of the High One, a legendary being that is the nearest thing to a god in McKillip’s world and who lives in the top left corner of the map where anyone prepared to cross miles of wilderness can visit him. Prophecies take the form of riddles which can be answered by riddle-masters in formal riddle-games (like that between Gollum and Bilbo in The Hobbit) - an unanswered riddle can be deadly, for it represents a source of uncertainty about the future, and a college has been set up to investigate them.
The protagonist of the first book, Morgon of Hed, is of course the Hero with a Destiny, but McKillip complicates matters by giving him not one but two to choose from. He has recently become the ruler of the small rural island community of Hed after the death of his parents at sea and therefore possesses the land-law, but he also has a talent for riddlery which may or may not be related to the three stars that mark his forehead. In typical Wolfian fashion, McKillip introduces us to him as he engages in a scrap with his siblings about a crown that his sister Tristan found while cleaning under his bed. It turns out that he won it in a dangerous riddle-game with a wraith called Peven which he neglected to tell anyone about (most writers would have started with a description of the riddle-game itself, but McKillip sensibly leaves that to our imaginations). Deth, the High One’s harpist who happens to be visiting, tells Morgon that it is not the only prize he has gained; the ruler of the neighbouring land of An has decreed that whoever wins Peven’s crown will become the husband of his daughter Raederle. As she is a flame-haired beauty, Morgon, despite some reservations, decides that he would rather like to marry her and sets off with Deth in tow to ask for her hand. Complications ensue.
The remainder of book one is a fairly typical fantasy bildungsroman as Morgon unearths some suppressed unanswered riddles in which he seems to figure and visits most of the significant locations on the map trying to find out what they mean, all the while pining for home (and Raederle) and menaced by sinister bad guys. The conflict engendered by his two destinies is nicely done (though the psychological effects of the land-law are not adequately explored) and the climax is surprising.
The subversion of the themes of epic fantasy continues in book two, which is told from Raederle’s point of view. Not content with sitting around waiting for things to happen to her, she too goes on a journey accompanied by two out of the three other female characters mentioned in book one and acquires powers which are not entirely welcome. As a solution to the problem of what to do in the middle volume of a trilogy it is brilliant and its woman’s-eye viewpoint is still strikingly original (is this the first epic fantasy with an all-female fellowship?), though when all is said and done Raederle’s adventures do not advance the main storyline to any great extent.
Book three is where McKillip’s limitations as a writer become apparent (the trilogy is one of her early works) as the juggling act between the personal and the epic becomes more problematic and the narrative resounds with the clang of dropped balls. Raederle herself is one issue; by the end of book two she has become a major figure, but McKillip clearly couldn’t work out what to do with her in book three with the result that a lot of her actions seem inconsequential and flighty. The riddle theme is sidelined, with those mentioned in book one never adequately answered, and the major characters’ powers seem to come and go at authorial whim. The climactic plot twists are also a tad predictable.
Nonetheless, as an original take on the themes of epic fantasy this trilogy has considerable merit. If Tolkien had been alive to read it, I think his verdict would have been “promising”, and I certainly want to know if her more recent works bear this out.