How Kay manages a masterful timeskip

The first chapter of River of Stars' fourth part is further proof that this book could've be five separate books. As with the previous shifts between parts there's been a timeskip.

After reading about the emperor's okaying the move to retake Kitai's old lands, we're dropped into the middle of the struggle. A half year in, things (and the barbarian Altai) are quickly heading south.

Though what lead to this turn of events could fill a separate book, this timeskip works.

Throughout River of Stars the narrator is much more of a storyteller than I'm used to. In A Song of Ice and Fire for example, the narrator is primarily a mediator between George R.R. Martin's characters and the reader.

Kay, on the other hand, uses a narrative style that reminds me of the tone of the game over or game end text in an Ogre Battle game. Every time the narrator takes over from dialogue or description we're treated to a quick overview of events.

Yet, these overviews don't come across as oversimplifications of cause and effect or quick and dirty explanations. Each one reads as though it were carefully crafted and worded. Thus, this latest time jump works quite well. Kay gives enough detail to fire the imagination, but not nearly enough to overwhelm.

Of course, I'd expect nothing less from the writer of the line "The smell was bad with entrails spilling" (409). Short, precise, and vivid, that line would be right at home in Beowulf.

Who's telling this tale anyway?

Guy Gavriel Kay's River of Stars is difficult for me to judge. It's a fantastic book, as of page 150, but I'm not sure about the book's narrator. That is, I'm not familiar enough with Kay's books to say whether or not this narrator is especially tailored to his attempt at Chinese history-inspired fantasy, or if it's just how his narrator always is.

Based on what I recall of the first few chapters of Kay's Tigana, this narrator's quite different. If memory serves, Tigana was written in the same way that most epic fantasy is written now. It has various point of view characters and the different characters each have their own voice come through in their respective chapters' narration.

To some extent, the same thing is happening in River of Stars, with one twist: the book reads like it's narrated by a single person who imitates the point of view characters' voices. The difference may be subtle, but the impression that I'm left with is that of a well-versed story teller putting on voices for each member of its cast of characters instead of one who gets lost in those characters and their points of view.

To concretize this a bit, what makes River of Stars different from, say, one of the books in A Song of Ice and Fire is that its narrator seems to have some sort of motive. Whomever Kay's narrator is, it relates everything as if he or she was there and watching, observing, as if it were some omnipresent entity who will later use its observations to judge those it observes.

Further thoughts on Infinite Jest's central editor

Infinite Jest is a work that heavily relies on characters. One way that Wallace makes these characters stand out is through eye dialect. When a character like Marathe is speaking, his syntax and word choice are what you'd expect from a Quebecois. Though, it is a bit of a caricature.

Nonetheless, writing in so many voices in dialogue and in narrative description, gives Infinite Jest the flavour of a collection of interconnected scenes and anecdotes. Not to mention the book's endnotes. Including errata and extra information with a book underscores its compiled nature, lending further strength to the argument that the book has a central editor rather than a central narrator.

Of course, Infinite Jest's not the only book to have multiple viewpoints. Each entry in George R.R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire features several perspectives. Yet, the books in that series read much more like a traditional narrative. Equal emphasis on character and plot is definitely a factor in the traditional quality of that series. So too, is A Song of Ice and Fire's being an epic fantasy series; such works traditionally have an extensive scope, including their cast, and so A Song of Ice and Fire fits into its genre handily.

Aside from being "literary," Infinite Jest has no genre. Thus, a drive to classify it, and my sense that there's some central editor rather than central narrator behind it all.

The possibility of a central editor seems especially likely after seeing endnotes like 264 (on the word "recircling" (643)): "Sic, but it's pretty obvious what Marathe means here."

Parting after the Dance

Speed reading the last half of A Dance with Dragons made it a much more break-neck experience. Not that the book's pace is ever that quick, mind. Just that the book's latter half is mostly scheming and plotting and set-up for the last 100 or so pages. And what a last 100!

Up until Quentyn tries to tame a dragon, the book was getting kind of dull, and everyone seemed way too safe for a Martin book. After that, and after the sequel of that scene, it became clear once more that no one - no one - was truly safe. And the epilogue's revelation of what Varys means by his "for the good of the realm" was a great thing to end with.

It's quite a bit better than the freeing of the slaves of Yunkai in the HBO show.

A change of character

N.B.: My copy of A Dance with Dragons is due back at 8 p.m. tonight, and so tomorrow's entry will be based on the same book. Infinite Jest will return, though. And a new book will find its way into the line up as well.

The Wildling town Hardhome is surprisingly like the early American colony of Roanoke. Not in that the Wildlings were there to settle a brand new land, or sent by any queen to do so, but in that it disappeared under quite mysterious circumstances. Hardhome's vanishing was a great deal more destructive, but both stand as settlements that for some strange twist in fate floundered and failed.

The other thing to grab my attention is Martin's restoration of Theon. It happens, of course, through the actual meat of each of his chapters, but more so through his shifting chapter headings. It's nothing major to change these headings, but that they do change is novel. Up to this point, the chapter headings have seemed to be hard and fast. Also, coupled with the increase in the glimpses we get into characters' heads, these different headings don't just signal change of role and social place, but they also shift the story a bit more into the internal.

More than ever, snippets of past conversations and remembered questions are being repeated to great effect - from Tywin's "Where do whores go?" to Reek's various rhymes with his name. They're not ground breaking literary devices, but their presence adds greater depth to Martin's story. The only danger is that through repetitive use his characters become flat.

Dabbling in Dorne

Amidst the chapters with familiar characters who seem fairly immediate, Martin drops one from the perspective of Areo Hotah, the loyal protector of Doran Martell. Yes, it's back to Dorne, briefly, in book five.

Dorne still has Myrcella, it's true. There's also the Dornish plot to join the house of Martell to that of Targaryen. But Jon Connington and Varys have a similar plot to join Targaryen to Targaryen. And then there's everything happening back in Westeros itself. Dorne seems far away for even a place of pure fancy amidst all of those other plots. Why bring it up again?

Being epic fantasy, the best reason I can fathom is simply: why not? Martin's got a lot of threads to account for, so what's one more to weave in with the rest?

Repetition

Unsurprisingly the theatricality of the priests of R'hllor is a mix of charlatanism and actual spell weaving. Though, as was the case with the Undying of Qarth, it seems that the magic of Martin's world relies on tremendous stores of power to be effective.

The Undying grew stronger around Dany's dragons (a point which will hopefully come up again, since they're getting bigger, and therefore should have a larger field of effect), and Melisandre has noted how her powers are increased in the presence of the Wall. Though everything learned about her powders and such (early chemical weapons, in a sense) was learned from her perspective. Indeed there are many new voices in this Dance.

But aside from the increasing presence of magic at the Wall and beyond it (in Bran's) story arc, there's a strange increasing of repetition. Repetition of a single phrase: "The moon was a crescent, thin and sharp as the blade of a knife."

This phrase is repeated most often in the Bran chapter where he learns about being a greenseer, and always kicks off a section where he's wearing a different skin, but its repetition is grating, jarring. Given that it's used to signal a shift in Bran's state, this jarring quality of the repetition could be a good thing. But each time it was repeated, I flipped back to its last occurrence; it pulled me out of the story.

More spins and dips - and a toss

More and more, different characters are taking on different genres. Davos is still very much reading like he's in a story of deep intrigue, especially as he's lead to a secret meeting with Lord Wyman. Dany's reading more and more as something more political. And Jon's chapters are still very much about the vigours of his office - with a bit of Melisandre thrown in for good measure.

What else can I really say? Tyrion's chapters are the ones that seem to be the most dynamic, but which Queen he was being taken to was never much of a mystery. His captor has too much loyalty to the one much closer, and who's likely to be much more benign towards Tyrion. And who wouldn't want to be loyal to someone with dragons?

It's definitely awesome to see Rickon pulled back into the story, as well. Though whether or not that will actually play out before the end of the book has yet to be seen. 400 pages out of 959 have been read, and yet it looks like there are still a few more new perspective characters in the last 559.

Differences between Feasts and Dances

There's a pretty even share of female characters between the settings featured in A Dance with Dragons and A Feast for Crows. However, there's way more sex in A Dance with Dragons - both implicit and explicit. But it isn't overblown nor does it come across as cheesy. It's written with a straightforward and minimalist description, touching on only the essentials of such encounters.

It's quite accurate the way that Martin has his female characters getting into arrangements that are politically or socially beneficial, but much less so for love. Insofar as the world of A Song of Ice and Fire is a reproduction of medieval Europe. Dany's turning Daario away, for example. Or Asha's being wedded to Erik Ironmaker. Both actions are strategic in some way or other, but certainly not done out of love.

Setting A Dance with Dragons apart, though is the number of characters going by nicknames or epithets, even perspective characters. For some such measures make sense, Sansa for example, or Theon, are so much changed from what they were, a new name is fitting. But some come across as merely stirring up intrigue.

"The Wayward Bride" (Asha), for instance, at first intrigued. But, once it was clear that it was just Asha, the nature of my interest changed. It went from the desire to solve a mystery to curiousity. I'd like to say that not presenting such chapters with characters' given names suggests that they're immune to harm, that they aren't on Martin's kill list. But by that logic Syrio Forel must be alive and well, since he was but a side character, and not even the face of his own chapter.

The short and the deep

After hearing that George R.R. Martin likes to keep his readers and viewers in constant fear for the characters that they love, I was almost fooled into believing an untruth. The way one chapter of A Dance with Dragons ended, it seemed as if the cast was about to lose its most well-spoken kinslayer.

Of course, it would have been a death treated much too lightly, even for Martin. Even, I'd go so far to say, as the climax of an atmospherically creepy river-boating scene. Though, perhaps this imp's not to be taken off the list of the dead just yet, since he has been taken by a bear.

The other chapters read in this section - another of Jon's, more of Davos, and one from Reek - were all great reads. I'm really enjoying the ways in which Martin's using internal monologues with Reek and Tyrion to create dissonance within characters. It's nothing shockingly new, but it suggests that more might explicitly be made of people's inner struggles. And, as entrancing as reading a well-choreographed fight scene can be, watching characters battle against themselves is that much more satisfying.

Could a Collier's encyclopediac epic work?

Davos' chapters are quickly becoming detective stories. Though, it's not that there's some sort of mystery to solve, just that he is currently motivated by information. It's not something that you often see in fantasy novels. 

Likewise, I've not read much fantasy that makes its own world's lore quite so interesting as the bits about dragons we get with Tyrion. It's enough to make me wonder if a story about someone collecting information for an encyclopedia could work. If it's written well, anything could work right?

Speaking of which, the inventory of the Wall's food stores is fairly interesting. The suggestion of the Wall's magic in Jon's thinking it shouldn't be as cold as it is under it nods towards the series' hidden fantastical. However, the rest of the chapter was compelling, but it fell flat at the end. 

Most of Martin's chapters end just as their events feel like they're at or about to reach a climax, Jon's latest was quite a bit less so. Jon's concern about how long their stores will last just doesn't match the introduction of more hill tribes and the intrigues of Stannis' knights.

Assurance through Displacement

Game of Thrones, the HBO show, and the books in A Song of Ice and Fire are rife with differences. I never imagined that one thing in particular would be quite so different, though.

Having only just started reading A Dance with Dragons, I had thought that the Theon torture scenes in the show were added merely because of the popularity of his character or of Alfie Allen. Now that Reek's been encountered, though, it's clear that those scenes were not at all added. Sort of.

In the book, Reek's only introduced after the torture that we see Theon undergo in the show. Knowing that he's still going to be in the show, that he won't perish whilst under Ramsay Bolton's knife, ruins the surprise and suspense somewhat, just as having seen the show made it obvious who Reek really was from page one. Though I doubt that this new found knowledge will make watching Theon's torture scenes any easier.

A Shifting of Favour

Though his chapters were rarely anything special before (aside from, well, the one kissed by fire being extinguished), Jon's chapters are quickly becoming my favourite. I'm still very keen to see what becomes of Bran, but right now that plot arc is all about the journey rather than the destination. Though, reading of him so shortly before this week's episode really hit home how succinctly the HBO show is able to portray things.

What did it for me in the most recent Jon chapter, though, was a witty kind of device that underlines the continuing relevance of written stories. In said chapter, Jon approaches Janos Slynt with the order to take command of the wall castle Greyguard. Slynt refuses, since he doesn't regard Jon as a proper Lord Commander.

The conflict escalates until Jon and Slynt cross paths in the mess hall. It's here that we're given Jon's internal debate regarding what he should do with Slynt. But rather than making it a straight monologue, Martin shows Jon going through two options in his head, by listing each and then narrating the consequences that Jon perceives.

This method paces the moment perfectly, and holds the illusion of watching events from Jon's perspective. Plus, he allows the suspense of what Jon's third and penultimate decision is to linger for the space of a thought, which is just long enough to make the pay off all the more shocking and riveting.

Add to this the allusion to Ned's own philosophy regarding judgement and who should swing the executioner's sword. It's this reference that slams home the fact that Jon is transformed as a character. As Maester Aemon advised him, he has killed the boy within.

A refreshing stir of old embers

Read the warning in this blog's banner before proceeding. Here there be spoilers.

Having made my way through four sections of A Dance with Dragons, a pattern's emerged. Only  Daenerys' chapter had bits intended to refresh the reader. They're the parts of narration that often show up in sequels. A paragraph here to explain this reference to an earlier plot point or device, some explanation of why a character matters that's based on past books' events. That sort of thing.

Since Daenerys didn't show up in A Feast for Crows, it's clear why G.R.R.M. included refreshers in her chapter. Hers was also the preview chapter at the end of A Feast for Crows. Curiously, Cersei's first chapter from that book was the preview chapter from A Storm of Swords.

Of course, that doesn't mean that the women of the series are being touted as anything, Cersei's a major player at King's Landing, the core of A Feast for Crows. Likewise, all plots within the reach of her gravity turn around Daenerys, it seems.

Tyrion's on his way to her, just as Selmy was two books back. Of course, Tyrion's chapters are more wit-based than anything Selmy would have starred in. I didn't get the impression that the dialogue in Tyrion's recent chapter was as forced as it was in his first in A Dance with Dragons, since there's much more interrogation going on.

Though, I have to unabashedly praise where praise is required.

Jon Snow's not my favourite character by far, yet Ygritte is definitely in my top three for secondary characters. Her death forced me to close the book and call it a day as far as reading further went, and all because of her signature line.

When Melisandre repeats this line at the end of Jon's first chapter in Dance, I teared up. Ygritte's character resonated so much with me that that's all it takes, just a sign pointing back to her and her tragic death. So well done with Ygritte's characterization, G.R.R.M., well done indeed.

Dragons took the next dance

Because it's topical (the show does still have two more episodes for this season), and because it's a light dish alongside the whole leg of cow that is Infinite Jest, I've jumped my Reading List and started on A Dance with Dragons.

Before even getting to the book, I've got to say that it's grand to see an author give the context for his work. But along with his dedication, Martin also gets some points for acknowledging the obvious but unpopular fact that his process leaves a large gap of time between completing books. The Winds of Winter will hopefully not be much longer in creation.

All of the time between books melts away at the first page of the prologue, though. Although Martin's use of adjectives jarred me. It's not that he uses a lot, but their being present really stood out to me as I began reading. No doubt, this is the influence of Infinite Jest, where adjectives are largely taken out and replaced with the narrator's tone and diction. The contrast between a piece of genre fiction and a piece of literature, however jarring, stands as a good reminder of why a more literary tone in fantasy could be a curious experiment.

Matters of style aside, the Prologue's following the warg Haggon (aka Varamyr Sixskins) as a re-introduction to the events in the North is gripping. I couldn't help but gape as I read through his attempt to jump into the skin of Thistle, his spear-wife.

Then there's the first proper chapter of the book. A Tyrion affair, we find out that he's still well and good, if maybe a bit roughed up by his sea voyage. As with any Tyrion chapter before it, most of the dialogue involves verbal fencing of one sort or other.

By chapter's end it gets a bit dull, probably because there isn't a third party present to throw their thoughts into the mix. Having such a character would help to ground those sections that run the risk of getting too woolly with their wit.

A Cast of Burrs, and I'm a Velcro Reader

Infinite Jest rolls on and I'm a glad passenger.

It's a daunting book to see, and it's hard to believe that it could be read in less than a year, but Wallace just keeps bringing out more and more characters. His cast might not be as coherent as George R.R. Martin's, but it's definitely composed of characters as large as those in A Song of Ice and Fire.

What makes his characters so captivating has definitely got to be their flaws. And each of his characters is deeply so. There are rough patches on all of them on which it's easy to catch your attention. Kate Gompert, for example, is definitely flawed. Her depression is enough to bring any reader down, but at the same time the clinical presence of the doctor who is trying to figure out what to do with her creates a contrast of perspectives that draws out Kate and that draws in the reader.

Interlude

The Interlude that's included after the end of the White-Luck Warrior does a lot of legwork - quite literally so, in fact. It sees Achamian and Mimara reach Ishual while being pursued by Sranc, and finding it a dead place.

I definitely trust that Bakker's got it all figured out already, but I'm not sure that even picking up A Dance With Dragons or learning about Chinese brush painting will distract me from the threads that he's left untied. Though, more than likely, I'll dig into the Prince of Nothing trilogy before the conclusion to The Aspect Emperor trilogy is seen.

The Nearing End

The latter half of chapter twelve sees circumstances curiously reversed.

Sorwa's sections become more and more about his inward struggles with his perceived duties to Yatwer, his desire for Serwa, and his fear of being found out as a non-believer by either Moenghus or Serwa. All of this is enfolded in Serwa's giving quick history lessons as the three travel through a series of ruins on their way to the Nonmen kings.

On the other hand, the history textbook quality of those sections following the Army of the South in the Great Ordeal remains, but their content lights up with the flash of battle and sorcerous cants.

The effect of switching the external/internal roles of the two sections is a sense of progress. This sense is perfect, since with only two chapters of The White-Luck Warrior left, it's a good way to go about bringing things to an incomplete climax.

However, because of all of the grim and horrifying actions of the Sranc, the reveal that Moenghus and Serwa are this series' Jamie and Cersei was watered down for me. All the same, Bakker's treatment of the reveal of their coupling and how Sorwa happens upon it is enough to keep the revelation's essence impactful.

Confessions in Momemn

Thus far in The Aspect Emperor series, the rule's been that chapters set in and around the empire's capital of Momemn are rather dull. This tedium doesn't come from a lack of interesting characters or compelling situations, there are plenty of each in them, but we're given no real foothold. Writing as someone who started with The Judging Eye rather than The Darkness That Comes Before, I really felt that any thing based in Momemn was a slog in itself to get through - I just want more Achamian and Mimara, and more Sorwa.

That all changed in chapter twelve. Esmenet set out with her trusted Imhailas to hire an assassin to kill her brother-in-law, and while she's out the palace is invaded by his forces. This forces her into hiding, and where better to hide an empress than with a whore. Of course, the whole situation is complicated by the fact that the whore Imhailas brings her to is his own, and this forces Esmenet to re-confront her own past as a prostitute and how she sold her only daughter into the same life to survive a famine.

Bakker can truly write battle scenes and searching philosophical sections, but this chapter has the same feel as much of A Song of Ice and Fire. Why? Because Bakker finally gives depth to some characters while building up proper back stories for others.

Doing these two things finally makes the characters in the most character-driven sections of the series (so far as I've read it) come to life where before they seemed almost like puppets on a string. Now we've just to see how they can dance without that sort of guidance.

Comparing an Epic Quality

Bakker continues to weave an excellent tale. Though I'm left wondering why the sections from Mimara's viewpoint are all in the present tense (at least in chapter two). Maybe this tense choice is meant to give a sense of immediacy, or to really throw the reader into the perspective of the one with the judging eye.

It's pretty clear though, that Mimara is not marked for death - otherwise the skin-spy amongst them would have let the Sranc range right over her. Instead, he revealed himself to save her, making me think that the judging eye will need to be turned onto Kellhus to reveal that he is indeed some sort of demon rather than a god. Though Achamian's trek to find the hidden Dûnyain settlement from which Kellhus came will likely work to the same end. 

And that's really it for the plot. Comparing this series to a Song of Ice and Fire may be what happens in every entry, but I think that simplicity is another strike against Bakker's series becoming as popular as Martin's. The scope remains too narrow. For, even though Bakker has multiple viewpoint characters, they're all marching along the same plot line, just at different points, or from different angles.

A Song of Ice and Fire on the other hand is like a guitar - multiple threads are present, and each is plucked and twanged in a certain sequence to produce a melody. What's curious about its plurality of plot lines, though, is that A Song of Ice and Fire has yet to be about saving the world as it's known and yet it's more epic than The Aspect Emperor - which takes as its focus the classic world-changing conflict.

After all, It's not without reason that reading The White-Luck Warrior brings Christopher Lee's voice to mind and has me imagining Final Fantasy VI sprites acting out some of the book's scenes.