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.

When White-Luck Runs Out

Well, surprise of surprises. The map is found, and intact, too. Vellum truly is an incredibly durable thing to write on.

So, The White-Luck Warrior ends on a strangely upbeat note. Sure, the Father of Dragons is loosed on the world, Mimara and Achamian are the only sane members of their party left, and Sranc war horns sound in the distance, but everything feels like it's going to work out. Mimara's statement that she's tired of Sauglish sounds as casual and seminal as someone sitting down to a big meal with a reconciled family saying "let's eat."

Yet, she's still been raped - something perhaps shielded from us and from her because of her having been a whore and her whispering forgiveness to her rapist from her judging eye. And Cleric has been killed, struck down in a fit of Erratic madness.

Perhaps, as with so many fantasy stories, the discovery of new equipment in the Coffers has been enough to buoy their spirits. The creation of more Qirri's sure to help, and the introduction of Sarl as a kind of Gollum makes this a curious trio to traipse through this book's Mordor, since they'll no doubt have to pass through Golgotterath on their way to Ishual.

'Here, There Be Dragon'

In an old interview, Bakker stated that while writing Neuropath he itched to get back to writing fantasy. Yet he also spoke of some exhaustion in writing such long books, and that same exhaustion is starting to show in The White-Luck Warrior.

He continues to keep a small stable of adjectives that he bandies out pretty often, but more than anything are vague grammatical and stylistic ticks. Like his insistence that "dual" can be taken to mean "duel." Or so it seems in sentences like "So much of the Gnostic armoury was devoted to sorcerous duals or the mass killing of mundane Men..." Perhaps this is yet another thing I've missed in the Prince of Nothing trilogy, and "dual" is just an unknown to me variation of "duel."

Nonetheless, it's hard to be a weary reader as Bakker ends this volume with an underground battle with the ancient father of dragons, Wutteät.

I still have to read the final few pages, but it looks like Achamian won't be coming out of this with that hard sought map to the ancient Dunyain settlement Ishual.

No More Momemn

The Momemn chapters become much more interesting in the latter half of The White-Luck Warrior. Up to that point they are very much about Esmenet, the Empress of Kellhus' Empire, and the people that she must contend with. Yet, her opponents were all but shades, so indistinct were they. Once Esmenet turns fugitive, however, those close to her become much more fleshed out - regardless of whether they are friend or foe. The final chapter dealing with Momemn continues this trend, but it also makes me wonder if most of the book's Momemn-set scenes couldn't have just been cut in favour of spinning out the story of Esmenet in hiding. Though, were the Momemn chapters to be seriously cut, Kelmomas would be left out of most of the book. And who could go on without knowing more about the child that reverts to cannibalism when hiding from the invading Shrial Knights in the palace's labyrinthine underbelly?

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.

A Nested Perspective

The final chapter that follows the happenings on the Istyuli Plains in The White-Luck Warrior has a lot of perspective switching. Beyond showing the rising action of the book, it also puts another literary element of the book on display.

Those sections about the Army of the South aren't told so much as they are delivered. These parts, concentrating on the acts and struggles of King Umrapathur as he battles the Sranc Horde following the Great Ordeal, are written in third person unlimited. It's a clever way to avoid another perspective character, but thrown into the midst of sections from Serwa's and Proyas' viewpoints, it's textbook quality is very apparent.

In context, however, what might be a dry way of delivering a part of the story, is anything but. Those sections told from certain perspectives have a certain elasticity to them, as if the people through which we're reading them have a capacity to change their fate, or have yet to have their fates decided. The parts dealing with the Army of the South, however, are given the tone of a foregone conclusion. Since their struggle is very much a futile one, this tone buttresses that sense of futility excellently.

Pushing forward on the Slog

Somehow, Achamian's being bound seems like the only way that things on the Achamian/Mimara/Skin Eaters front could move forward. Of course, they've now reached the library at Sauglish, and thus the Coffers beneath them, but having Achamian at the ready to answer Mimara's questions and to hold her inquiries back from Lord Kosoter and Cleric wasn't letting their characters progress very far at all. So, after he refuses the Qirri and is bound for it, since his mutiny is much more feared than Mimara's, she's finally free to push into both of their mysterious characters.

And push she does, though her judging eye reveals just as much as her questions do. For something incredibly magical, Bakker's descriptions of what she sees with it are simple. Black and light, you might even say. But that simplicity is all that's needed, especially since he weaves whole tapestries about their surroundings with his words.

Leaving the subtler matters of magic to readers' imaginations definitely works in his favour. Though that's often the best way to do magic whenever a system's not being explained. After all, even those in the world of the series not versed in sorcerous lore wouldn't know its workings, and as observers we aren't meant to see things from such a position.

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.

Following the Great Ordeal

For all of the pomp of chapter ten, only the outlines of things stand out. Perhaps this is because Bakker doesn't keep as tight a focus as he does when he's writing about Achamian and Mimara. Instead, when Bakker's following the march of Aspect Emperor Kellhus' Great Ordeal, he follows Sorwa, or Kellhus' son Kayutas, or Kellhus' Exalt-General Proyas. He covers just about as many when he's writing about Achamian's band, but the miles between those marching in the Great Ordeal shows more readily than the space between two people in the same party and the creature stalking them. Nonetheless, the glimpses into Kellhus' thought and action are indeed curious, and well pulled off for their relative non-humanness. But I can't help but feel like I'm missing something not having read the Prince of Nothing trilogy before coming to The Aspect Emperor. I feel almost as though there's some clue in those books as to whether or not Kellhus is a god or a demon. Sorwa's ongoing interactions with Yatwer are like stone reliefs, so striking is their detail. Though the chapter's final development holds the most promise as it sounds as if he, Kellhus' beautiful daughter and leader of the Swayali witches, Serwa, and Kellhus' son Kayutas are going to be held by the Nonmen. All as part of the pact that Kellhus has formed with them for the sake of security and trust. Putting those three into such close quarters is bound to lead to some very interesting moments.

Curious Strength

The realization that the next two chapters of The White-Luck Warrior are set in the same place was astounding. Bakker numbers his chapters, dresses them up with quotations from his world's scriptures, thinkers, and philosophers, and labels them with their geographic area. So, having two consecutive chapters in the same place, though it's been slow otherwise, really highlighted the movement of the two groups that each chapter follows.

The first of these two treats with Achamian, Mimara, and the Skin Eaters as they rush on toward Golgotterath with the aid of the Nonman Cleric's Qirri. This substance is an opiate of sorts, though rather than make them drowsy it's been mostly replacing food for the last chunk of their slog. However, as Mimara continues to meet with the skin-spy who was Soma, she starts to question what the Qirri is.

Spurred on by the sight of a straggler, the Stone Hag Koll who has not had any Qirri but keeps up all the same, she eventually breaks down and asks Cleric what the Qirri is. It's revealed to be ash from a funeral pyre. Though why such a substance should have any sort of power isn't really explained.

Perhaps it's because it's the dust of a Nonman, or perhaps because it's one from before the birth of history. The individual's named, but it's a name that means nothing to me, and at most might be a call back to the first trilogy. Though for the single sentence that Bakker dwells on this revelation, if it is a call back it's probably a truly obscure one.

As always, Bakker's imagery is evocative, though I find myself wondering if it's varied enough to sustain such a long piece work as The White Luck Warrior. There's still a lot of dust (even if it is a plain), and there are a lot of coals as well. This chapter (nine) was a curious look into addiction, however. And that is always interesting. Especially since taking such a tack with this part of his story Bakker asks more questions than he answers.

A Twist and a Tell

The twist in Neuropath was completely unassumed. When it turned out that one of the steady characters turned out to be the villain I was definitely thrown for a loop.

So I should have seen what would became of the meeting of Maithenet (the uncle), Inrilitas, and Kelmomas (the two nephews, sons of Kellhus). All three are of the Dunyain - the sect of people who train themselves to read the minutiae of body language and expression and harness the power of pure reason - so the meeting was sure to be momentous. Still, I never would have guessed that one of those three would lose their momentum completely.

Yet, such sleight of pen is always obvious in hindsight. The character that bites it in this chapter is also the one who had earlier said something about being as dour and terrible as possible. Amid his ramblings, he also said something or other about sacrifice. And he did not strike me as one who spoke without action.

Spellbinding Writing

Bakker's The Aspect Emperor trilogy may be dense, but his magic crackles from the page.

Maybe it's the idea that magic users are marked as damned for their inborn ability to manipulate the physical world and thus violate the gods' laws.

Maybe it's because so much of his description of magic involves various kinds of light.

Maybe it's simply because his is the first magic system I've encountered that I've really enjoyed since The Sword of Truth (aside from A Song of Ice and Fire, the only series I've really ever read to date).

Whatever the case, he can dole out a battle in the chapter before, a tete-a-tete in the section before, and dress it up with mention of a naked nubile woman, but add magic into that last one and the honey's so sweet my reading teeth are on the verge of melting. Of course, in chapter eight he doesn't mention magic itself so much as delve into the way in which humans and gods (the World and the Outside) interact. He expresses this relationship beautifully in the possessed Psatma Nannaferi, the outlawed high-priestess of Yatwer, the terrible Goddess of Birth.

It Is the Size of a Dusty Tome...

Bakker really likes his dust. Over the course of chapter 7 in The White-Luck Warrior, he must refer to the pattern and the flow of dust at least every second page. I understand that the terrain the Great Ordeal is going through is terribly dry, and so perhaps dust is all there is to stir, but it's often described in a similar way.

Of course, so much dust could be Bakker's way of reminding us of our own position as dust in the wind. Though, his big philosophical sticking point is to never be certain, which doesn't necessarily mean that humand endeavours that span but a lifetime are pointless. How could anyone be certain of such a thing?

Villainous Me

Bakker does something rather strange with some characters. Rather than going out and out and taking the perspective of certain characters, he'll instead have a third person narrator tell thing from a given perspective.

In this case, back in the Meorn Wilderness (The Mop), we're given some things from the perspective of Soma, the one among Achamian's party revealed to be a skin-spy. As was made pretty clear in Neuropath, Bakker's got no problem writing disturbing things, and even from the first few pages of chapter six of The White-Luck Warrior this is what we're given from Soma's perspective.

Bakker doesn't just make his villains evil, he makes them despicable while also being darkly sympathetic. He does so by talking, for example, about the mixture of hate and lust and desire that the skin-spy Soma feels whenever he looks at Mimara. In fact, where other authors might disturb readers by showing them something aberrantly different and abjectly terrifying, Bakker's m.o. appears to be trying to disturb people by showing them parts of such villainy within themselves.

This quality among his villains is another thing that makes his works great, and that will likely keep his fantasy writing largely underground.

Bakker and Sympathy?

The White Luck Warrior, no, R. Scott Bakker's fantasy writing in general, is just like the The Silmarillion. Except Bakker's characters are more compelling, and more fleshed out than those that appear in Tolkien's world lore text.

Still, the comparison stands because both books are primarily concerned with world-building to the point where its neck-and-neck with plot development. So much so that at times, the world building overtakes the plot. Both books also give very little foothold to those unfamiliar with fantasy and its propensity for strangeness, especially with characters who are supposedly deities (or demi-gods).

Still, well, my older brother's been over for the last few days, and he's getting over a virus - coughing to the point where "hacking up a lung" almost literally applies. While reading The White-Luck Warrior, I was listening to this hacking, and could hardly help but feel the need to cough in sympathy. How does this relate to The White-Luck Warrior?

Well, the part where Kelmomas and Inrilatis (two sons of Kellhus, the Aspect Emperor) are talking about madness and Inrilatis continues to read Kelmomas to the point where he loses control of his facade they mention the idea that people are simply what they appear.

On the face of it, you might take issue with this assertion. Surely, the depth of human feeling and thought are not etched onto people's faces, expressions, and actions - you could say. But, the idea in Bakker's book, I think, is that even these things betray people because they aren't minutely controlled.

So, if someone were to master the meaning of every bit of minutiae the human face and body produce, they could, possibly, have what appears to be some form of telepathy. So much of what we do while thinking and feeling is, after all, subconscious. Including, I argue, sympathetic reactions such as my urge to cough.

A Short One, While He's Away

I'm not sure why it took so long to dawn on me, but the Sranc in R. Scott Bakker's fantasy are very much like Tolkien's orcs. Both have their origins in the creation of the world, both are bastardizations of another species, and both are under the power of the big bad.

Though I'm not sure Tolkien ever said anything about orcs being necrophiles. That detail's pure Bakker.

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.

More Fortunate Comparisons

It hasn't happened yet, so I'm going to propose it now. Christopher Lee should do an audio version of R. Scott Bakker's The Aspect Emperor series. That's the kind of voice that could weave an aural tapestry to match the textual one Bakker creates. These words, sorcerous murmurings, or a thing like the laughter of crows among thunder, deserve such a voice.

That said, The White-Luck Warrior has been a much easier read for me. The Judging Eye was very slow going, I thought, though maybe that's just a matter of not having read for fun for quite some time before picking that one up nearly a year ago.

Having re-acclimatized myself to casual reading - though not suspending my own judging eye - The White-Luck Warrior pulls me in each time I pick it up and only scarcely can I shake myself from it. Though I can see why this series and Bakker himself haven't caught fire.

Between jumping between tenses, describing characters and emotions with snippets of history or philosophical musing, it isn't as quick a read as George R.R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire books can be. Instead, Bakker compares better to The Silmarillion, though it has a much more interesting narrative voice to it. As a result of this better voice, the description of the First Apocalypse and the damnation of sorcerors, the war between the Nonmen and the Inchoroi, and of an ancient primeval forest wherein it's as dark as the cavernous womb of a mountain is fascinating no matter how much deeper it is than just directly showing some detail or other about it.

Plus, Bakker's magic system is incredible. A simple spoken mechanism to work spells, but the underlying source of power and the abilities and deficits of the different sorcerous schools (being plagued with dreams wherein they re-live the great hero Seswatha's battle against the No-God Mog-Pharau, as an example) are all brilliant.

No matter how slowly the story moves amongst the thicket of words, I'm on the edge of my seat to see if Achamian, Mimara and the Sranc-hunting Skin-Eaters will make it through to the Coffers.

Some Luck in the Beginning

Thankfully, The White-Luck Warrior opens with a handy re-cap chapter. The first trilogy is summed up, and then the events in each major character's arc from The Judging Eye is summarized.

Truth be told, I found The Judging Eye to be a bit of a slog, at the beginning.

Where George R.R. Martin tells his story with characters at the fore, and with a crisp sort of prose, Bakker tells his with world-building at the fore. But the world isn't so directly based on something easy like a rotated world map, magic, and the War of the Roses. The world of Bakker's fantasy epic is much more original. And as such, there aren't many analogues to fall back on or to prop up understanding.

The only thing that seems like it can be taken for granted is that the universe's cosmology is similar to most major religious conceptions of our own. There's a god of one sort or another, and then scads more that are much more specialized. But even then, the way that Bakker presents his characters, his narrative, and his world, causes doubts to rise about such a large scale certainty.

Nonetheless, Achamian and the Skin Eaters have left Cil-Aujus, and are now heading into The Mop, a dark and ancient forest.

A huge underground complex, and a primeval forest - both are fantasy mainstays, right?

But Cil-Aujus makes Moria look like a breakfast of soft-boiled eggs, so let's see how the forest stacks up against something like Mirkwood.

Though, before we get more of Achamian, Mimara, and the Skin Eaters, it's back over to Sorweel, the captive prince among the Great Ordeal that Anasûrimbor Kellhus has marching against The Consult. That is, of course, The group that many believe are conspiring to revive the dread No-God Mog-Pharau, a being that threatens the very fabric of existence.