Fantasy without the Magic

[mtvessel]

Mar 2019
Amberlough - Lara Elena Donnelly – Tor, 2017
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This is an interesting example of a story set in a non-fantastical secondary world. There is no magic of any sort, the urban architecture and technology is no more extraordinary than that of the early twentieth century cities on which it is clearly based, and there are no weird gods and their attendant religions. Instead, the author's interests appear to be entirely political. This is evident in the map that shows the main countries, their capital cities, and a couple of relevant geographical features, but nothing else. But it is also apparent in the characters - a smuggler, a spy and a small time hustler - and in the driver of the plot, which is the coming to power of a fascist party.

The smuggler is Aristide Makricosta, an Oscar Wilde aesthete with an affected stutter who is the master of ceremonies at the Bumble Bee cabaret in the city of Amberlough. His lover, Cyril DePaul, is a John Le Carre-style mild mannered agent who works for a government department called the Foxhole. Their contrasting agendas (needless to say, they first met when Cyril was assigned to spy on Aristide) make for an interesting dynamic to their relationship. Cordelia is a stripper who also works for the Bumble Bee cabaret and will do whatever it takes to make ends meet. Their interactions are told against the backdrop of increasing political unrest caused by the rise of a ruthless totalitarian organisation known as the One State Party or Ospies, who want to knit the four loosely federated nation-states of Gedda into a single cultural entity.

The characterisation is good (apart from Aristide's affected stutter, which is annoying), and the dialogue is sharp and pleasingly indirect in a Mad Men sort of way. The same, alas, cannot be said for the setting, where the allure promised by the evocative name of Amberlough and the occupations of the main characters doesn't quite pan out in the flat descriptions. Donnelly becomes rather too fond of depictions of torture in the later scenes as a means of maintaining interest, and the ending has a frustrating lack of catharsis because - surprise! - this is the start of a trilogy. Nonetheless, I am still mildly curious to know what will happen next.

As someone who likes good books regardless of the genre ascribed to them, I am not particularly bothered by the fact that this book's title and marketing suggest that it will have fantasy elements when it doesn't, though it seems a little dishonest. But the plot and setting are so reminiscent of the musical Cabaret and, presumably, the Christopher Isherwood stories on which it is based that I can't help thinking that the only reason that Donnelly invented her secondary world was to avoid the comparison. True, the rise of a populist totalitarianism in democratic states is a timely and urgent topic that writers should be addressing, and all credit to her for doing so, but when you already have a classic like The Berlin Stories, there needs to be some new thought or theme to justify the reader's investment in this book rather than that one. And very welcome though it is, I am not sure that the foregrounding of the gay characters and their relationship is enough.