An inconclusive conclusion

In the acknowledgements section that follows River of Stars' main text, Kay writes that legend-building is one of the novel's themes (636). He could not have chosen a more engaging way to write about this theme. He points directly at it in the book's final pages.

As everything is wrapping up, more and more vagueness is brought into the narrative. The narrator stops reporting events and begins to speak hypothetically about Shan and Ren. This move from the certainty of what happened to the possibilities held within a few moments alone is the moment around which the legend the story has built radiates.

I use "radiates" here because as much as the book's narrator can be trusted, its voice throughout the book is still that of a tale teller rather than a straight reporter. There's a mercurial element to the narration throughout the book that gives the impression that the telling of Shan and Ren's stories is something that's being spun rather than simply recorded. Such is the sense you're left with in a book from the Song of Ice and Fire series. Both voices are authoritative, but Kay's narrator is more enchanting than Martin's.

Fresh from finishing it, one of my major criticisms of the book is more of a question: Would this story have worked as a five part series instead of a book broken into five parts?

Looking back, I'm not sure it would have. Five separate books would have demanded more material than six chapter parts, and more material would mean leaving the reader with less to fill in for him or herself. It's that act of filling in the blanks, guessing at answers that we're not given, that Kay invites his readers into. Actually, he practically entices them into it.

Another criticism is not so easily dealt with, however.

Even after having finished the book, I'm not convinced that Shan developed as much as Ren. Maybe it's because girls mature faster than boys and so by the time we meet Shan for the first time her personality is more or less as it will be for the rest of her time in the story, but as far as character growth goes hers seems minimal. I'm still left with the impression that every time Shan does discover something new about herself it's more a realization of what she already has rather than something discovered outside of herself.

Over all, River of Stars is an excellent work of concise epic fantasy by a great modern fantasy writer (who just so also happens to be Canadian). Read it if you ever have the chance.

Letting the reader fill in the rest

Can a scene that's intimate, yet not explicit be considered a sex scene?

What about an interaction between two characters that's supremely revealing of both of them as individuals and as members of a couple that merely includes sentences like: "Their lovemaking is tender and slow. It is as if he's traversing her body, making a map of it for himself" (588)?

Perhaps not in the strictest sense, but not all sex scenes need to be something that could wind up in an E.L. James novel.

Unsurprisingly, Kay's minimalism serves him well when he writes of Ren and Shan's final meeting at East Slope. Particularly because after all that we've read of them we can create the parting scene of their relationship ourselves. He need only give us the pieces.

If the separation of these two lovers - one the holder of a stubborn purpose and the other a person born and raised well before a time in which she could prosper - isn't enough heartbreak, Kay sets the seal on Ren's official fate in chapter twenty nine as well.

As there's still one chapter more, nothing's explicit, but the story is set to end with Ren, the one bearing the mark of the [fox spirit] that marks him as the one to restore Kitan's rivers and mountains, stripped of rank. Just as Kitai is stripped of much of its land.

In these final few chapters, what Kay has done is just what he does with Ren and Shan's relationship. As a storyteller, he has given us enough of a framework through the events he's told of and characters he's shared to let us (or, specifically, our imaginations) fill in the rest.

Though, one last chapter does remain. More could be said, but I'm left with the sense that River of Stars' thirtieth chapter will be like the cinematic that plays under the credits after finishing a story-driven video game.

When a war story turns to peace

Although there are two chapters left in River of Stars (I swear, I'm keeping track because of anticipation, not because I can't wait to be finished!), it looks like the book will end with a whimper on the level of empires.

When faced with a choice between rebellion leading to the restoration of Kitai's old glory and capitulation leading to an era of peace, Ren sets aside his dream and purpose. Certainly a noble gesture, but not the greatest end when you've been pumped up by all of the talk of retaking historical Kitai.

Of course, once more, building the reader up to a height of sensation similar to that of his characters and then taking the ground from under them, however gradually, seems to be what Kay does best. It lends an element of realism to the story, too.

After all, the wildest fantasy stories tend to forget that individuals exist within structured societies. These structures, in turn, inform and limit their actions. Acting outside of them might appear grand and gratifying, but it also puts the sensations that they feel outside the scope of the average reader, since most will probably never actually step out of their society's bounds. Such characters are fine fodder for escapism, but escapism isn't nearly as gratifying as a story filled with characters that you can empathize and sympathize with.

However great the post that Ren achieved, and however powerful he is militaristically, his following the emperor's orders and leaving a siege that would have been a sure thing is what most responsible, ultimately peace-minded, war leaders would do.

What I'm nonetheless hoping for, though, is that we don't get any more of the story from, Hang Hsien's perspective. He is the son of the old prime minister (Hang Dejin), and comes across as a character that Kay either struggled with or added in after the fact to flesh things out. Perhaps that sense is just his character's doubt and lack of full conviction coming through, though.

How Kay breaks hearts (spoilers below)

The strangest part of River of Stars is its navel gazing. In these sections, the narrator speaks of things like fate, the causal links of history, and what ifs. This last is particularly striking.

At the end of chapter XXVII the narrator's dwelling on the idea of what a life cut short could've been does much with little. Complete stories are hinted at, even outlined by implication, but both are merely hypotheticals for lives ended in youth.

Kay's managing this is more than passing strange because it's rare to find such engaging navel-gazing. Nothing read in recent memory has set my imagination to blooming in this way.

Of course, this chapter does till and tend the imagination, prepare it for such. Combining conflict and loss will do that.

Spoiler warning.

An Altai sneaks into East Slope and confronts Lin. She avoids death, thanks to the bravery of Lu Mah. But he is killed in the process.

Never a central character, Lu Mah's death is nonetheless heart-wrenching. In part, this is due to the tension of the scene. We readily know alongside her what the gradually approaching Altai intends, and until Mah appears it seems like her rape is a certainty.

The other element that makes Mah's death a true tragedy is just how well we've come to know Mah's father, the poet Lu Chen. Among the things familiar about him is his use of detached awareness to muse about poems. Knowing this about his character and habits, the moment when the reality of the situation strikes Chen becomes real for even the reader.

There are three chapters of the book left yet, but what unfolds in chapter XXVII is definitely the first major pay-off.

A late timeskip

In my last post about River of Stars, I noted the structure of Kay's novel. It seems like he may have had to fudge his content a bit to get that structure so aligned.

For, in part five, the customary timeskip is a chapter late.

Though, when it comes to structuring writings, themes do need to be considered. And chapter XXV is definitely suited to the elemental phase of water, associated as it is with renewal. That's the chapter where we see things pivot, even if only in a minor way, back to Kitai's favour.

And that is some favour. Chapter XXVI is all about the nearly complete defeat of the Altai who attempted to secretly cross the Great River. Some did slip through, though. One of these in particular has been set up to star in the rest of the book. At least, that's got to be a fair guess since he is named and Kay leaves him alive.

However the final four chapters go, the book's narrative voice has finally rung a bell. Especially during battle scenes, Kay is adopting a voice like that of the teller of Beowulf. It's a very knowing, almost wry at times, voice that's well suited to pole-arms and to politics.

Discovering River of Stars' structure

In an unprecedented move, the shift into part five is virtually nonexistent. In every other move between parts in River of Stars Kay has had us move ahead in time or jump into a radically different perspective. As part five opens, however, it seems likely that minutes have passed - or even that the events described are happening simultaneously with those of chapter XXIV.

Along with shocking me and giving this part a definite climactic feel, it confirms a suspicion.

River of Stars is a tale of fantasy inspired by Chinese history and culture. Within Chinese culture the number six has special significance, appearing again and again in hexagonal designs and architecture. Each of the books parts has six chapters.

According to ancient Chinese thought, the world followed cycles that five elements or phases (water, wood, fire, earth, metal) expressed. River of Stars has five distinct parts. As long as Wikipedia's order and explanation of these five phases is accurate, Kay's parts mirror them exactly.

I've expected this sort of correlation for some time, since he does a fine job of paying respect to Chinese culture in other aspects of the book.

Within the cycle of the elements, part five is a perfect fit for water. Chapter XXV is all about retreating and regrouping.

Chapter XXV is also set up to be the climax for Ren and Shan's romance. They are set to part once more, something that can really hit you if you've ever been in a long distance relationship.

Ultimately, though, the twenty-fifth chapter of River of Stars is a medley of important events and perspectives. My sense going forward is that the book's final five chapters will mostly be dealing with the fallout from these events rather than anything new. Aside, probably, from the child that Ren and Shan conceive on their final night together.

A truly omniscient narrator

The end of part four of River of Stars opens a gash in the tale's chronology. All of the chapter is about the climax of Ren's plan to help bring Kitai from the brink of destruction, but parts of it are told with the knowledge that Ren's accomplice, Kang Junwen, retells of that night in his old age.

When it comes to narrators, there's limited, omniscient, and Kay's choice here.

Taking the perspective of a character to reflect on events long past rather than just to report them is something I've never come across before. It's a technique that, in a genre where the narrator is usually just taken for granted as some all-knowing storyteller, calls a lot of attention to the figure who wrote these words, who's telling this story.

Being confronted with this storytelling style is enough to make me consider the narrator more of a "speaker" in the poetic sense. "Speaker" being the term in poetic theory for the entity between a poet and the words that he or she writes.

As per the break with linear chronology that Kang's reminisces make, I take it as a hint that there will be a considerable timeskip at the start of part five.

And, more generally, I get the feeling that the novel will end somewhere in between Kitai's full revival and the complete extinguishing of them from the memory of history. As I head into the book's last part, I expect it will end with things looking up but not yet getting there.

Reconsidering Lin Shan

Throughout my reading of River of Stars I've been quietly bothered by the character of Lin Shan. At this late point in the book (I've just finished chapter XXIII) I think I know why.

Ren Daiyan is your typical fantasy protagonist with a little bit more. He's imagined being a warrior since youth, he carries with him a strong sense of purpose, and we see him learn how to achieve this purpose as he gets older. Nonetheless, the difference between him and the kind of hero you get in the cheesiest of fantasy stories is that we see him develop very clearly. We see him and his purpose run headlong into the political and social structures of the world. What's more, we also see him flex his intelligence as he manoeuvres around these structures. Where he can.

Shan, on the other hand, is not really your typical female protagonist. She's much more empowered than women tend to be in fantasy. Yet, just like Ren, she's also hemmed in by the world around her. However, what marks the biggest difference between these two characters' arcs is that Shan appears to grow relatively little over the course of the story.

Shan changes along with Ren, sure. But, her changes seem to be less from learning about what to do next than they are from simply realizing or intuiting what to do next. Kay very clearly uses this quality of hers to show her intelligence, but it makes for a flat arc.

Aside from growing up and changing from a girl to a woman, from a virgin to a wife, at her core Shan changes very little. It's as if the character she will be at the end of the book is something that she pulls from within herself rather than something that she constructs from herself as Ren does.

Now, maybe I find this difference in character arc jarring because I'm a man. As such, I'm not privy to the way women's minds work. Or maybe, again, for the same reason, stories of construction rather than of intuition resonate more strongly with me.

Whatever the underlying reason for my own personal opinion, that opinion remains. Shan is a fine character, but because she seems to come pre-packaged as a strong female character that strength is less satisfying than the development we see in Ren's arc. After all, as the story progresses we realize that Ren has carefully planned his rise to military prominence and watch as he adapts to being in love with Shan and (I imagine, though it's not been made completely clear yet) managing a counter-attack on the Altai.

Shan, however, just appears to be along for the ride that her world provides - in spite of her intelligence and wit.

Things get drear in River of Stars (spoilers below)

River of Stars almost took a turn for the entirely expected.

When Ren confronts the new emperor, Wenzong's son Chizu, with the idea of going down fighting against the Altai that have them besieged he is flatly turned down. This moment gave me tremendous pause. Although there are only 140 or so pages left, I had expected Ren's plan to get the okay. I had thought that the book would have wrapped up in a somewhat uncluttered, direct sort of way.

Instead, Ren's idea is shot down. Of course, that doesn't stop him from working to do what he can to fulfil what he sees as his destiny. It does send him into a round of self-evaluation, though. A bit of introspection followed by his sneaking out to see the Kitan prince handed over to the Altai as a surety that the rest of their impossible price will be paid. Unsurprisingly, Ren's arc moves forward as a new avenue to his goal opens.

Shan, on the other hand, is a bit more static. She reveals that her and her husband's collection of artifacts hasn't been used to contribute to the Altai, and has some time with Ren. In spite of this, we don't see her character move forward or face new difficulties as Ren does.

Nonetheless, what I enjoy about this turn of events is that it forces the book away from a perfectly formed ending.

In the emperor's refusal of Ren's plan and the wrapping up of former prime minister Hang Dejin's arc in the next chapter, Kay really creates a sense of hopelessness. The shadow that he has made to fall over Kitai is palpable.

Though, the way that chapter XXII ends with the narrator sharing how the story of Hang Dejin's end is spread does put a few twinkling stars into that darkness. None of them look like the morning star, however.

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.

Predicting the next big event in River of Stars

Well. I was right about Shan and Ren. Will I be right about Ren alone now? Kay has created a scenario in which his death, or, at the least, imprisonment, is imminent. Though, this prediction comes with the caveat that Kay has a master's touch when it comes to building suspense.

As the story moves into the fourth chapter, the book's scope has widened significantly. Kitai is on the verge of another war for its lost lands and Ren, though rising through the ranks, is on the wrong front. It's a move that does a great job of ratcheting up the story's tension, since it forces Ren's rise into the social fore. Chances are, he'll wind up killed or imprisoned on the premise that he is consolidating power to prepare for a rebellion.

Of course, the book still has two parts more (and another ten chapters). Although Ren and Shan's relationship was fairly predictable, and I'm expecting Ren's demise, there's still plenty of time for River of Stars to surprise.

A scene painted with perspectives

Chapter XVIII of River of Stars is a prime example of Kay's putting multiple perspective characters to good use. This chapter details the meeting with Emperor Wenzong in which returning to war in the north is discussed. In it Kay jumps from Lu Mah, the nephew of the emissary Lu Chao to Ziji to Ren.

Perhaps one of the reasons I enjoyed this chapter as much as I did is because giving three different perspectives on a single event is something that books do best. Movies and TV do it as well, but in those instances the sense of immediacy you get from a book is difficult to muster, since the human mind is more apt to associate time moving forward with bodies in motion than with words being read. Plus, this chapter is just what an author using multiple perspective characters should do: Create a scene lush with experiences rather than description. Though, that is, with the caveat that painting with perspectives rather than words can be overdone.

A book that only recounted a handful of events through different characters' perspectives would be interesting. But, it also wouldn't be as effective as this chapter is. Giving us three perspectives on the presence of the Emperor and the sensation of being in his meeting chamber really drives home the majesty and air of importance about the man. Not to mention the import of the gathering therein.

Such use of perspective is almost like writing a description of the place, but in reactions, actions, emotions, and dialogue than in plain words. And much of its effect comes from how scarce such chapters are in fiction in general.

A story rushing onward

River of Stars has a certain cinematic quality to it. Earlier in the book, the shifts from chapter to chapter covered greater geographical spaces and temporal gaps. Now, as the book's action rolls more and more quickly onward, the jumps in space and time between chapters are shrinking. In the case of the jump from Chapter XVI to Chapter XVII we actually see the two overlap.

Such jumps between scenes (the television/movie version of chapters) are common in audio/visual entertainments. Cutting between plot arcs creates the illusion of more things happening simultaneously, or at least within the bounds of a story.

Having more happen in a story makes it appear more interesting since it seems like there's a lot for the brain to process. By their nature, books can't replicate the pace at which television shows and movies switch between scenes, but because books are a slower medium they allow for more nuance, even in a flurry of scene and point of view changes.

Part of this nuance is the possibility of scenes overlapping each other. Or, because books take more time for the brain to process, you can see what might otherwise be frenetic scene hopping in slow motion and pick up on more of the detail of what's happening between scenes. Most importantly, though, this sort of scene hopping, either because of a flip book effect or because of what it's come to mean through the movies, indicates a story rushing onwards.

An easy coupling for Kay

Well, what I'd feared has come to pass. Much more quickly than I'd expected, too. Yes, Ren and Lin have hooked up. The image that Ren held to keep himself anchored to the world was one of Lin.

What bothers me about this pairing is that it's predictable. Ren and Lin are the book's central characters and as such are easy fodder for coupling.

That said, for Ren the draw is Lin's beauty and unconventional intelligence. For Lin the draw is Ren's rugged good looks and calm self assurance. But in becoming a pair, these two have fallen into a plot rut that is very well-worn: That of the star-crossed lovers.

It seems that getting with Lin has lowered Ren's guard, though Lin's getting with Ren has brought love back into her life. Yet there is danger in the relationship for her as well. More than likely Kitan society turns a blind eye to male infidelity, but severely punishes women for the same act.

Going forward, my hope now turns to Kay's ability to make the wheels if his plot (and main characters' arcs) jump out of this rut in a novel way.

Kay the mood-setter

Kay is a master of striking a mood. Chapter XV's Ren section is incredible as it sweeps from melancholic solitude to alarmed shock resisted by a stirred, yet calm, will. It's enough to make me forget about the use of another new perspective character.

Actually, as I get further into Part Two, I'm starting to find that Part One could be cut. Not that leaving it in is an editorial oversight, rather, it's nearly all set up, whereas Part Two has more to do with the novel's actual story. As a reader, it feels like Part One is just a warm up for what follows.

At the same time, without Part One, I'm not sure that Part Two would have the same impact. Perhaps it's just a necessary evil.

Getting back to Kay's many perspective characters, Ren and Lin remain my favourites. I can relate to Ren's strong feeling of purpose, and Lin, as an outsider who is nonetheless in the midst of her society's heart, is downright fascinating. I might be misreading some clues (hopefully I am), but it seems like they might wind up as a couple late in the book. However, from where I stand in both of their arcs, pairing them up would be a terrible mistake.

Ren-ing smoothly

Maybe my tastes in fantasy are just more old school. A penchant for classic sword and sorcery stuff that can seem a little cheesy or dated when looked back on from today. As far as I can figure, that's one of the major reasons I've enjoyed all of Ren's chapters. There's never much sorcery (yet), but there are plenty of swords. And Kay really has a way with scenes involving characters being discovered in their hiding places.

Completely in line with his character, the voice of the narrator never gets frantic during this scene, though. Even the pieces of fight choreography are delivered in clean, measured prose. There's nothing in the writing itself to suggest a loud Hollywood-style action sequence as Ren escapes from the barn he'd planned to spend the night in, and instead we're shown someone who very efficiently assesses the situation and reacts accordingly.

Ultimately, the sense that this leaves is that Ren is a chosen person in so far as he believes that he is. This belief fuels his drive. This drive pushes him toward his goals, however lofty. Maybe, as with the matter of storytellers' practices, this chapter is a window onto the reality of Ren Daiyan, since at one point Ren notes that: "The world liked its stories" (294).

Could the storyteller be indulging that desire for stories? Is this story being told as it happens, or is it being reported after the fact by a storyteller who's spinning out a yarn about a young soldier who always strived towards the single goal of restoring his nation's old power?

The river's bounds

The varying perspectives that Kay offers in River of Stars definitely gives the book a very epic feel. As a storyteller, this varied cast lets Kay become a sort of film director, taking the entirety of his fictionalized Asia as his novel's setting rather than limiting it to where a handful of characters live. Parts of the strangeness encountered throughout Kitai and the Steppes even resemble the oddities on R. Scott Bakker's continent of Eärwa.

But, once again, and contrary to Bakker's The Second Apocalypse series, we're just not given much time with the novel's characters. Though it does seem that there is a boundary to the pool of characters from which Kay draws them.

Chapter XIII follows Lu Chao, the emissary from Kitai and the brother of the poet Lu Chen, as he meets with the Altai war-leader, Wan'yen, and it follows only Lu Chao. Since the last chapter concentrated on a short period of time and this concentrate on a single character, a pattern can be seen emerging.

Despite my earlier impressions, there is a limit of sorts set onto every chapter, but the definition of each chapter's limit changes. Perhaps it's this fluidity to the construction of the book's chapters that leaves me with the impression of flowing water.

On its own, such flowing water is just water. But if looked at from further away it becomes a river. In much the same way, each chapter has featured a nearly stand-alone arc told within the limitations of time or number of perspective characters. Yet, taken together, these chapters form a larger plot that the narrator surely knows but never seems to acknowledge. Just yet, anyway.

When the lazy Susan of characters settles

It's become clear at this point that Kay isn't giving up his lazy Susan of characters any time soon. However, if the rest of the book is anything like chapter twelve, then the array of point of view characters won't be an issue.

In chapter twelve we once again get a set of different perspectives, ranging from Ren's to Lin's father's. But all of these characters are in one place. And, more importantly, they all seem to be shown at or around one set time: the night after Ren, Ziji and Fuyin's scheme to stage an attempt on Lin's life so that Ren looks like he saves her. Unity in setting goes a long way to highlight the importance of this event. Plus, since the whole chapter takes place in such narrow geographical and temporal scopes we're actually given time to empathize with characters.

However, it doesn't seem likely that this tight structure will become the norm for the book. "Part Three" looms on the next page, and that's likely to herald a shift into a completely different direction.

Where the river of time speeds its flow

River of Stars, going into part three, is a very action packed read. That Ren's and Lin's stories finally intertwine definitely contributes to this sense of great momentum.

However, I have to take issue with the passage of time that brings these two stories together. There are some spoilers in what follows, so read on with care.

Ren and Lin are brought together as part of Ren's plan to rapidly ascend through the army. His reason for wanting to become a high ranking officer being simply that it will give him some power over the outcome of Kitai's upcoming war the barbarians to the north. This is a fine ambition and is a concrete goal that helps to make Ren's character all the stronger.

But it's an ambition that would take time to follow. A lot of time. Even with the help of a chief magistrate, climbing up the ranks would take years. In the book, however, chapters 11 and 12 show Ren's initiating his plan and, subsequently, its coming to fruition in his being the imperial guard who saves Lin's life. Such an act is sure to rocket him even further up the ranks. Though, getting into the imperial guard in the first place would take time, even with the favour of a magistrate.Yet, in the book it seems that no less than a year could have passed between chapters.

Things up-river are looking better

River of Stars gets much better as the second part winds to a close. Ren's plot gets under way. Lin's plot gets under way. The major plot of the entire book gets under way. Everything's moving at this point in the story, and although there are so many pieces in the machine you can finally see most of them spinning together in what looks like it will be an interesting harmony.

But. It shouldn't have taken over 240 pages to get to this point.

A valid question, of course, is: "Why did you keep reading if the first 240 pages were a chore or a bore?"

My answer: "It's been 240 pages already?"

Kay's writing really is that good. It's got this flowing quality to it that lets it melt in your mind rather than on its way off the page. This flow and the handful of interesting characters that he presents help those first 240 pages to really zoom by.

Though, at the same time, those first 240 pages are like sweeping the viewer's eye across a wall-spanning tapestry at a slow and steady rate. Those pages are filled with lovely passages that set the book's tone gorgeously. Yet, those 240 pages could have been put to better, plot-serving or character-building use.