High

This is a compilation of the earliest short stories and novellas featuring Conan the Cimmerian, famed barbarian king and warrior without peer. Conan was born in a time when the cutting edge of fantasy and science fiction was often to be found in magazines, rather than novels, and this collection brings together the scattered early stories into a single place. There are many strange and terrifying beasts, a healthy helping of sorcery, and more than enough steel for the barbarian of lore to hold his own. To say nothing of the nubile rewards of victory for a warrior whose primal urges are themselves the stuff of legend.

The Hedge Knight builds on Martin's short story in the Legends anthology about Dunk and Egg. It collects the six-issue comic series into a single graphic novel. If you missed the comics, this is a good way to catch up. The events substantially predate those in the Song of Ice and Fire series, however, and appears to be independent -- that is, no information that is necessary to understand the series is presented in the graphic novel, and vice versa.

Lord of the Isles was one of the few books I purchased in hardcover without having read anything else by that author previously. It was a mistake. The writing is barely competent, the characters are interchangable, and the plot incomprehensible. A very poor showing indeed.

Amazon writes:
Certain works of fantasy are immediately recognizable as monuments, towering above the rest of the category. They have been written by the likes of Stephen R. Donaldson, Robert Jordan, and Terry Goodkind. Now add to that list David Farland, whose epic fantasy series began with The Runelords, continued in Brotherhood of the Wolf and the New York Times bestseller Wizardborn, and reaches its peak now in The Lair of Bones.

Unfortunately, Amazon is wrong. What started off as an interesting story buttressed by a creative take on the feudal system quickly fell victim to unncessary complications and simply authorial incompetence. The reader is asked to empathize with cardboard cutouts while the villians go through the motions of presenting a threat. The simple purity of rune magic could have offered a way to explore the complex moral questions of the feudal system, but instead fell to irrelevance in the face of more traditional magical systems.

The Lair of Bones amounts to little more than a superhuman dungeon crawl. The potential that was present in the first novel has by this point been squandered.

Book of Night with Moon is a cat book for those who grew up with Diane Duane's So you want to be a wizard series. It is somewhat dependent on the earlier works, even though it is not explicitly a part of the same series (and the plot itself stands alone).

Those with cats as pets will delight in the detailed and surprisingly well rendered view into the mind of a cat, where playfulness and feline politics vie with the weighty concerns of world-saving. Those without cats will be lost and confused, which is perhaps typical human behavior from the perspective of a cat anyway..

Unfortunately, this book isn't as good as those that came before. The cat angle is a saving grace that will provide ample amusement well worth the purchase price for those who like that sort of thing. Those who don't should pass.

Sword of Shannara has a well-deserved reputation for being a near-total imitation of Tolkein's Lord of the Rings, with only the serial numbers filed off to aid the deception. It's not even told particularly well. Readers are advised to skip it.

Elfstones of Shannara is, in my opinion, the best of the Shannara books. Terry Brooks has exorcised the need to imitation Tolkein, and is now free to explore a somewhat different -- and more original -- story. While he does not succeed in creating a classic that will ring down through the ages, he does manage a reasonably enjoyable fantasy novel.

I will confess to liking WFR and the three successive volumes when I first read them back in college. At the time, however, I hadn't gotten ahold of much good stuff in the way of fantasy, I was starving for *anything* in the genre, and my tastes hadn't matured yet. The interesting bits - the amusement of the Wizard's Rules, a few interesting magical ideas, some good quotes - kept me going through four books, but they really shouldn't have.

There is so much wrong with this book, which continues in the rest of the series, that I can't list it all. We can start with the author's plagiarism of Robert Jordan - look, a bunch of female magic-users who are a political force in their own right, with their own tower/city on an island in the middle of a river, who at one point coerce the main male character into coming with them so that they can teach him something about his magic (despite male and female magics being different). Sound familiar? Given, this doesn't show up in Sword of Truth until after WFR, but the fact that it's there should be a warning to readers considering starting the series.

Then there are the formulaic plots - each book basically consists of the main characters discovering some threat to their country, finding / being found by prophecy somewhere along the way that generally heralds disaster, and then figuring out a way to work around the prophecy. There are plenty of nasty critters and bizarre villians, but none of them stand out; the supporting characters often come across as juvenile. The author also likes to inflict pain on his characters - this makes him feel like an unschooled writer who is aiming for horror but doesn't quite make it.

Getting into more detail would require me to go back and do a re-read, and I value my time much more than that. Readers, you have been warned. This might be tasty reading to younger audiences, much like David Eddings's works or the Shannara books, but it is most definately rated R.

I have a mild interest in certain elements of Japanese history and mythology, mainly those associated with the martial arts. This book creates authentic characters that pass my sense of realism for a pseudo-Japan, but does less well in the aspect of the martial arts; the author lends little flavor or attention to the combat, preferring to explore the ramifications of actions taken in the heat of the moment. Only by subtle hints can the reader differentiate between a duel between samurai and ninja in Hearn's world, and a more generic battle between two European knights on foot.

But these flaws apply only to the martial aspects of the work. The culture and the characters come through clearly in the manner of Sumi-e (ink painting), where simple and bold lines suggest the image to the mind rather than laying out the intricate details. I am no student of Japanese history, but I feel that there are rich parallels lurking just beneath the surface of my knowledge. This is a book that rewards contemplation, rather than merely a rousing tale of adventure.

This book is well worth the read.

Lian Hearn continues his practice of subtle suggestion through sparse description, rather than the more traditional detailed exposition or florid prose. The characters move in front of a backdrop cunningly painted by suggestion and shadow, their own feelings and interactions sometimes added by subtle coloration and at other times bold, strong strokes.

Although Grass for his Pillow is skillfully written, it falls short of genius. Part of that judgement results from its nature as part of a series; the rest from several shortcomings that, while visible only under close examination, nevertheless represent a lack of artistry.

On the book's website, Tales of the Otori, the author indicates that the first book came to him as a story unto itself, and it was only upon finishing it that he realized the characters had more to say about their lives. That division shows here. While Across the Nightingale Floor has, in truth, three main characters: Takeo, Kaede, and Shigeru, Grass for his Pillow only has the two. Shigeru's destiny was completed in the first book, and the result feels somewhat like a tripod whose third leg is weak and prone to collapse.

Even in death (which occurred in the first book), Shigeru's presence is felt strongly. His strategy remains the guiding force behind the main character's lives, and the strength of the filial piety the characters feel towards their ancestors only makes the gap more apparant. As a storytelling decision, Shigeru's death occurred in the optimal position for the first novel, but the remainder will suffer for the lack. (It should be noted that although Shigeru's early death detracts somewhat from the story, it also serves to enhance the cultural depiction; the characters and their pseudo-Japanese society stop just short of ancestor worship in their devotion).

As with all "middle" books, how this novel is viewed depends widely upon how the series is concluded. Presumably that will happen in the third novel, Brilliance of the Moon.

It is often observed that the proven quality of the first work in a trilogy is what ensures it's sequels; that the quality of the second work cannot be known until the third is complete; and that the quality of the third work will redeem or condemn the ambiguity of the second. I regret to say that Brilliance of the Moon does not live up to the promise of Across the Nightingale Floor, and reveals Grass for his Pillow as being a lesser work than it could have been.

How does it fall so far short of the promise offered by the series? Simply by failing to take advantage of the opportunities set up by the first two novels. Kaede's strength and independence are made a mockery of; Takeo's greatest victories are delivered to him in a Deus Ex Machina; the mystery of the Hidden is revealed and wasted; the dramatic potential of Takeo's prophecy is handled clumsily at best; and to add insult to injury, many of the most important and anticipated moments of the series were presented obliquely in the Afterword.

Regarding the second book, Grass for his Pillow, I commented that the loss of Shigeru so early in the story left the rest of the plot feeling like a tripod lacking the third leg. When Brilliance of the Moon yanks out the second leg of the tripod as well, by abandoning Kaede to the role of damsel in distress, disaster becomes inevitable.

However poorly the resolution of the series is handled, there are some good points to note about the book. The hints of a historical parallel to the plotline were borne out in the end (though I decline to identify them precisely, as it would constitute a spoiler). I could perhaps forgive some of the poorly handled plotting if it was intended to make the parallel match more closely. Even if that was the case, it could still have been better handled. I'm reviewing a fantasy novel rather than a piece of historical fiction, after all.

My advice on this series is to stop after the first book if you're reading it as a fantasy novel. Across the Nightingale Floor can stand alone, and the remainder of the series is downhill all the way, although the slope is mild and the journey not terribly unpleasant. Those with an interest in the subject matter may still find it worthwhile to finish the series, as the characterization of individuals and their societal values remains well handled, and the historical parallels add a level of interest to the story.