Book Review | Brayan's Gold by Peter V. Brett

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Humanity has been brought to the brink of extinction. Each night, the world is overrun by demons — bloodthirsty creatures of nightmare that have been hunting the surface for over 300 years. A scant few hamlets and half-starved city-states are all that remain of a once proud civilization, and it is only by hiding behind wards, ancient symbols with the power to repel the demons, that they survive. A handful of Messengers brave the night to keep the lines of communication open between the increasingly isolated populace.

Arlen Bales is seventeen, an apprentice Messenger in brand new armor, about to go out for the first time alongside a trained Messenger on a simple overnight trip. Instead Arlen finds himself alone on a frozen mountainside, carrying a dangerous cargo to Count Brayan’s gold mine, one of the furthest points in the duchy. And One Arm, the giant rock demon, hunts him still.

But Brayan’s Gold may offer a way for Arlen to be free of One Arm forever, if he is willing to wager his life on the chance...

***

There can be no question that Peter V. Brett told a terrific tale in The Painted Man, but it seems to me that the world he built therein stands as a rather more meaningful achievement than anything that could come of the hapless gallivanting of young Arlen Bales. First but not foremost, there is a certain purity to Brett's creation; a pervasive sense of innocence about this undiscovered country of his, in which demons wrought of untold elemental forces stalk the thick shadows, making Messengers such as Arlen the only real means of communication between city and town and temple. The wonderful world of The Painted Man practically demands further exploration, and in that regard, the author is glad to oblige.

Indeed, I count my blessings that this is the case, because I do not know that I want this world to move on as it does in The Desert Spear. I take no pleasure in the prospect of this essentially sweet and decent place being sullied by the sort of divisive developments I'm given to understand occur in the second volume proper of The Demon Cycle. But we need not dwell on the darker turns of The Desert Spear more than momentarily... I speak of them only to establish my affection for the time and tone of Brayan's Gold.

Like The Great Bazaar and Other Stories before it, Brayan's Gold is a sidequel of sorts, the events of which nestle neatly between the oft-expansive chapters of The Painted Man. There is, thus, little in the way of jeopardy in Brayan's Gold, except perhaps as regards those characters original to this striking and strictly limited novella from Subterranean Press — now available, here in the UK at least, as a markedly more affordable e-book. But even if danger is not exactly waiting in the wings, adventure surely is!

As yet only an apprentice Messenger, so the story goes, Arlen accepts a high-value commission to chauffeur a cart-load of thundersticks up to the mountaintop town of Brayan's Gold. He is of course waylaid by bandits on the road, and assaulted by corelings whenever the sun sets, but these obstacles he takes in his stride with all the self-assurance of a young man who will become a living legend. Arlen has not, however, accounted for a creature of the night unlike any other he has ever laid eyes on, for though "they say the higher mines are haunted by snow demons... with scales so cold your spit will crack when it hits them," the warded man in-the-making thinks that these are no more than old wives' tales.

They are not.

Brayan's Gold is a slightly more substantial narrative than that which formed the larger part of The Great Bazaar and Other Stories, and though it lacks that limited edition's various addenda, nine intricate interior illustrations by the talented Lauren K. Cannon more than make up for the absence of a grimoire or any so-called deleted scenes. There are too some lovely touches throughout the text of Brayan's Gold: characters and locales I expect will stay with me as much or more than any place or person from The Painted Man.

The rocky road to the mine is not as long a one as I might like, alas, but all the same, scattered about it are encounters and exchanges fit to set hearts and minds a-hammering; that there is inherently little real threat in evidence in Brayan's Gold does not take away one whit from the wondrous discovery of it all.

And that, right there, is why I mean to keep on reading Peter V. Brett, through the good times and the bad. The comparison may make leave it seeming dreadfully abbreviated, but I think Brayan's Gold speaks as clearly to Brett's talents as The Painted Man did, in its day.

In short, then: more of these, please!

***

Brayan's Gold
by Peter V. Brett

US Publication: January 2011, Subterranean Press

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Book Review | The Great Bazaar and Other Stories by Peter V. Brett

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Humanity has been brought to the brink of extinction. Each night, the world is overrun by demons - bloodthirsty creatures of nightmare that have been hunting and killing humanity for over 300 years. A scant few hamlets and half-starved city-states are all that remain of a once proud civilization, and it is only by hiding behind wards, ancient symbols with the power to repel the demons, that they survive. A handful of Messengers brave the night to keep the lines of communication open between the increasingly isolated populace.

But there was a time when the demons were not so bold. A time when wards did more than hold the demons at bay. They allowed man to fight back, and to win. Messenger Arlen Bales will search anywhere, dare anything, to return this magic to the world.

Abban, a merchant in the Great Bazaar of Krasia, purports to sell everything a man's heart could desire, including, perhaps, the key to Arlen's quest.

***

The Painted Man was a fabulous first novel. Exuberant and inventive in equal measure. A touch unvarnished, perhaps, but that only endeared it all the more to me, when I read it.

Understand, though, that this was way back when: back before The Speculative Scotsman was even a twinkle in the back of my mind's eye. Can you imagine? Anyway, I wasn't thinking particularly critically about the genre fiction I choose to spend my time and my money on then. I could tell a good book from a bad book, sure, but I don't know that I often took the time to parse my feelings on the matter any further, as I've taken to doing these past years in the reviews from me you read here and elsewhere.

Now I dare say I'd think differently about The Painted Man were I to read it again, under such terms, so when The Desert Spear came out in early 2010, much as I had been anticipating it, I opted to let it lie a little while. The second book of The Demon Cycle has laboured on my bookshelves ever since, as yet unread; in part because I missed my window, then got so gosh-darned busy it's hardly occurred to me to give it a go since, and in part because the critical reaction to it was substantially more mixed than that which met The Painted Man, which redoubled my aforementioned nervousness.

However I've had a hankering for good, fun fantasy this last little while. The day is coming, I think, when my attention will return, at long last, to The Desert Spear — and what better way to wet the ol' whistle than with this strictly limited edition novella?

The Great Bazaar and Other Stories is, as per usual from the industry exemplars at the helm of Subterranean Press, a truly beautiful book. From the lovely cover - which seems a case in point that hooded dudes can too be cool - through the generous paper stock it's printed upon and on, The Great Bazaar and Other Stories is every inch the definition of a collector's item; and indeed, since it's long since sold out, copies appear to be fetching serious sums of money.

But never mind all that. There's a cheap e-book available now, anyway.

What The Great Bazaar and Other Stories is, is a single longish short story - a sidequel of sorts which Brett himself calls Chapter 16.5 - alongside a couple of so-called "deleted scenes" from The Painted Man and an abbreviated grimoire of the wards and monsters of the world of The Demon Cycle to bump up the still slight word count. Even then, The Great Bazaar and Other Stories only comes in at 100 pages. You have been warned.

But you know what? All the warnings in the world couldn't have kept me away. The chance to spend another hour or so in this wonderful world of corelings and commerce, well... what an absolute pleasure it was. Peter V. Brett remains every inch the refreshingly down-to-earth storyteller I remember so fondly from my time with The Painted Man. There's action in the "The Great Bazaar" - wherein would-be warded man Arlen Bales ventures out during his messenger days to a devastated settlement in search of priceless pottery to pawn off on his merchant friend Abban, and finds, unsurprisingly, some trouble thereabouts - as well as a light dusting of wheeler-dealing and a bit of back-street intrigue. And if few of the aforementioned aspects are developed in quite the way I'd like, that only speaks to a certain hunger reinvigorated in me — for more of this. Please sir, may I?

"Arlen" and "Brianne Beaten," meanwhile, are somewhat short of what I want: instead, they are excerpts from the original manuscript of The Painted Man, and they read exactly as you'd imagine deleted scenes would. Without the context of the novel they are of around them, and in lieu of any attempt at make-good on specific events and character arcs one may or may not recall - which for whatever it's worth, I did remember, if only vaguely - these excerpts unfortunately feel little more than curiosities. "Brianne Beaten" is at least substantially more... substantial, I suppose, than "Arlen," which is an early and apparently much-treasured (by the author) take on the prologue of The Painted Man. Alas, "Arlen" feels like old news.

I'd stress, then, that the narrative espoused in the title tale of this slim volume - which is all there really is to The Great Bazaar and Other Stories - is a tad on the inconsequential side, and not likely much meaningful to readers without both the grounding of and some fondness for Peter V. Brett's fantastic first novel, but with those caveats re-iterated... hell, I'd heartily recommend this beautiful limited edition to devotees of The Demon Cycle. What little there is of it, I for one enjoyed the hell out of.

***

The Great Bazaar
and Other Stories
by Peter V. Brett

US Publication: February 2010, Subterranean Press

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Recommended and Related Reading

Coming Back to Comic Books | Red Sonja: Blue

If you've been reading Peter V. Brett's blog like a good fantasy fan, I expect you'll have heard more than enough about Red Sonja: Blue already - he's been talking about it since last April, after all - but bear with me: the story of how the author of The Painted Man and The Desert Spear made the leap from books to comics is actually pretty interesting.

And the resulting one-shot... well, it's pretty diverting too.

Originally intended to be a four-issue arc in the ongoing late last year, for some mysterious reason - publisher interference perhaps? - Brett's take on the one ginger warrior woman to rule them all was delayed, then disappeared, then condensed, eventually, into this single, supposedly "standalone" issue. All of which made me more than a little suspicious that there'd been fundamental problems behind the scenes.

Perhaps there were. Perhaps Dynamite were less than enthused that Brett meant to take Red Sonja out of her signature chain-mail bikini and drape something a little less demeaning around her ample bosoms. Because that's what Red Sonja: Blue is all about, truth be told: it's the story of how Conan's most attractive mate got herself a sweet new outfit.

And thank the lord for that, because - I'll be honest - the first half of Red Sonja: Blue was nearly enough to put me off the second. Assuredly, I have not come back to comic books in order to look at nearly nekkid ladies defy gravity above and below the belt.

Evidently Brett shares my concern, since in short order he has Red Sonja out with the old in favour of something new... not to mentioned borrowed, and blue. With her mighty endowments safely ensconced in a second-hand monster pelt, Brett even goes so far as to take a time out in order to suggest a neat rationale for her previous scanty cladding.

Thereafter, Red Sonja: Blue is business as usual. And that's no ill thing. Brett's love for the form is very much in evidence in this, his first comic book bow - though you wouldn't know it to read it. He doesn't, for instance, make that classic crossover novelist mistake of overloading panel after panel with exposition more suited to a book. Red Sonja: Blue talks the talk and walks the walk; it looks and reads and feels like a Red Sonja comic. And for what it is, it's pretty impressive.

Which is to say, standard heroic fantasy, cleavage meets cleaver: Red Sonja fights some monsters then takes a moment to bemoan her oath to never love a man unless he can best her in mortal combat, which of course no-one can.

And then it ends. Alas, it ends - just as Brett, having proved himself good and capable of scripting a solid sword and sorcery comic book, seems set to spread his wings, and let loose the dogs of The Demon Cycle. Shame, that.

I wouldn't have looked twice at Red Sonja: Blue were it not for Peter V. Brett's name on the title page, and in truth I wasn't immediately taken by it either - for one thing Walter Geovani's art, though perfectly competent, stresses all the wrong aspects of this brave new take on the character - but at the end of the day Brett demonstrates himself as sharp and witty a comic book writer as he is a novelist. And given the troubles this would-be four issue arc has had to overcome in the year it's been on the drawing board just to make it onto store shelves, that's really something.

Welcome to comic books, Peter V. Brett. I hope you stay a while.

***

By way of a brief postscript, I wanted to draw your attention to what could very well be the most offensive and/or hilarious (delete as appropriate) single panel I've seen since coming back to comic books:

Right?

A sequence made doubly ridiculous/brilliant because at the time of this writing I'd just seen an episode of South Park in which the art of queefing was once again discussed.

I'm sorry. I've really brought the tone down, haven't I? :P

Opinionated Speculations: Thar Be Pirates

The great catch-up - wherein I endeavour to read all the emails and blog posts and comments to have come a-calling while I was on holiday there - the great catch-up... well, it goes.

Seems I missed a couple of almighty fusses. I'm already on the back foot as regards this so-called "Amazon review scandal," which seems to me a fine exemplar of the internet in action - and well worth bearing in mind the next time the internet assembles for such a petty, not to mention predictable set-piece - and there was the whole FOAF thing recounted on Haunted Legends editor Nick Mamatas' LJ. That properly got me going.

But alas, the internet. It moves a mile a minute, and for all that people profess they'd like to read about something other than what's hot and shiny and new, somewhat counter-intuitively, the internet also likes to bitch and moan and whine when someone dares to talk about something it's deemed in its infinite wisdom yawnsome old news.

So I won't bore you.

...what was I going on about again?

Ah yes. The great catch-up. So, whilst in the grips of the mighty Thunderbird and my RSS Reader, I came across an email from Celine Kiernan, author of The Poison Throne - full review here - as well as its sequels, The Rebel Prince and The Crowded Shadows. I'm sure a bunch of other bloggers did too, but as yet no-one (or at least no-one in my blogroll) seems to have given the point Celine raised therein the time of day. Shame on you all for that.

She blogged about it too, opening with the admission that "I've now lost count of the number of piracy sites that have my books up for illegal download as bit torrents or as pdfs or as so called e-books." Celine trots out the anti-piracy arguments as old as time, the same rationales people have met with utter disdain or at best disinterest since peer-to-peer filesharing paired with the woeful anonymity of the internet became a cause for concern. She trots them out and casts them aside, and well she should, because for all that the force is strong with them, and the logic sound, they - let's be frank - haven't made a whole hell of a lot of difference, have they? Instead, she asks:

"I'm just going to ask you to stop. OK? Stop stealing money from my pocket, sales from my reputation, and business from the legit booksellers and sites who legally support me and others like me. If you can’t afford to buy my work then, please, go to the library - at least they keep track of how many times the books are checked out - and those reports go back to my publishers, and believe it or not, that’s important."

And I applaud her courage. For standing up against the paramount immovable object of our era and saying her piece. She's certainly entitled to, and I'd go one further, say she's right to. Why? Because the oft-cited line between piracy and stealing isn't half as fine as pirates (what do you know?) would have you believe.

Let's do a little math.

Wait, no! Come back! It's only a little math...

So I went to Demonoid. Demonoid is perhaps the most prevalent private tracker out there; it's where you go for the good stuff, you know, as opposed to The Pirate Bay, which would be the torrent tracker of choice for stuff of interest to the great unwashed. I'll admit to having torrented a few things in my time - a few very specific things that I couldn't get my hands on otherwise, I hasten to add - and Demonoid has been my go-to whenever I've had need of an index of illicit things.

Anyway, I went to Demonoid, and I searched for Celine Kiernan. And much to my surprise - I hadn't honestly realised there was much interest in bootleg e-books - I got a result.

Here it is.

Now that's not a bloody invite to download The Poison Throne, you hear? What it is is one of - at last count - 40,904 e-books Demonoid are cool with you stealing. This is of particular import to us, I think. 'Us' here standing to mean fans of genre fiction. As a readership I think it's safe to say we're more interested in technology than most. Furthermore, we're more likely to be familiar with the ins and outs of filesharing via p2p networks. Thus, and this is just a guess, of those forty thousand torrents - and bear in mind they've only been counting since Demonoid wiped their servers of the millions of torrent files it had hosted before the government snarled in some legendary damn fool pirate's direction - perhaps 20,000 of those torrents are e-books likely to be of interest to you, and to me.

Now we're not even factoring in the teratorrents: those torrents indexing not just one file, and by extension one e-book, but many hundreds or thousands... all in one convenient click.

Nor are we going to look, for the sake of this little exercise, beyond Demonoid. This is a single server, and there are hundreds of prominent servers out there, each indexing their own versions of each torrent, each of which will likely have been downloaded as often as the aforementioned torrent of The Poison Throne. Which is to say, 764 times.

Let me repeat that: 764 people have downloaded The Poison Throne via Demonoid alone. Factor in a hundred other trackers with an e-book of Celine's novel each - and that's underestimating things some, I would wager - and we're looking at tens of thousands of pirated copies of The Poison Throne doing the rounds. Tens. Of. Thousands.

I'll put that in perspective for you. The top ten bestselling fiction novels recounted each week in The Times is pretty much the definitive bestsellers chart here in the UK - our paltry equivalent of the lists in The New York Times.

And I say paltry with good reason. Earlier in the year, Peter V. Brett - one of speculative fiction's biggest new authors - blogged that his second novel, The Desert Spear, had made it to number nine on the list. It took a bit of digging, but here's his post. Notice, as I did at the time, and much to my surprise, that all it took for The Desert Spear to be the ninth bestselling novel in the whole of the UK that week (the week of its release) was...

...wait for it...

1,475 copies. (As opposed to the 3,000 copies distributed by the darlings at Demonoid.)

Christ, that week the new Dan Brown only did shy of 3,000, and it was still the second most bought book in the whole of Britain. That revelation knocked me for six - seven even! - back in March. As does the thought today that if even a fraction of the people who have pirated The Poison Throne had put a few quid down for actual copies at an actual bookstore, Celine Kiernan would have been made. Her name would have been trumpeted from the tree-tops. Weather conditions notwithstanding, of course.

Instead... well. I have no idea how The Poison Throne did at retail - Orbit don't share their sales numbers with us, more's the pity. I'm sure it did fine. Sold as per expectations. But there's a reason expectations are so low: e-books have made a product that was once almost impossible to distribute in any other way than on paper pages (in books!) as vulnerable to piracy as MP3s and AVIs.

So why is no-one kicking up a stink about it? I ask you, where's the Metallica of SF&F gotten to?

...

I'm afraid I don't have an easy answer to those questions, and add to that: I tend to think I've gone on long enough for one afternoon anyway. I don't have an answer, per se, but never you fear, I do have a song for you all to sing while pondering over the great quandary of e-book piracy.

You might even know it:

If you go down to the Pirate Bay /

You're sure of a big surprise /

If you go down to the Pirate Bay /

You'd better go in disguise.

For ev'ry author that ever there was

will gather there for certain because /

Today's the day the pirates have

their goddamn hands lopped off for thieving!

Now Celine's a publisher author, a professional - if an exceedingly friendly one - so she has to be polite about this whole thing. I don't.

So... pirates? If you're reading this? You're helping to kill genre fiction. If not quite single-handedly, all the same, you're killing a lot of things that in turn mean a lot to me. And for that, fuck the lot of you.

Book Review: Wolfsangel by M. D. Lachlan

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"King Authun leads his men on a raid of an Anglo-Saxon village. Men and women are killed indiscriminately but the Viking demands that no child be touched. He is acting on prophecy... a prophecy that tells him that the Saxons have stolen a child from the Gods. If Authun, in turn, takes the child and raises him as an heir, the child will lead his people to glory.

"But Authun discovers not one child, but twin baby boys. Ensuring that his faithful warriors, witness to what has happened, die during the raid Authun takes the children and their mother home, back to the witches who live on the troll wall. And he places his destiny in their hands."

***

 

Wolfsangel begins with a small but perfectly formed novella-length narrative that serves to lift the curtain on the half-breed yet wholly involving species of hallucinatory fantasy and Norse mythology that is its starring attraction. In whispered, reverent tones, it is said that Authun, king of the Northern Vikings, is "descended from Odin, the chief of the Gods," who felt so threatened by his fierce offspring that he "cursed Authun to sire only female children. He could not risk him producing an even mightier son." But the old Viking will have his heir, and so he leads a troop of warriors to a village wherein - according to the witches of the Troll wall - such a creature of Godly lineage exists, there for the taking. And so he takes.

He takes Vali, and into the bargain, he takes Feilig, too; an unexpected twin. A sacrifice, he reasons, if the witches must have one. But the finely threaded destiny of the two raid-born babes intertwines far further than Authun's desperate obeisance. They are separated, one raised royal and the other of the wilds, and yet decades later, something, some powerful force immovable by mere mortal man - be it love, fate, magic or chance - brings Vali and Feilig together. Even then, the games of the Gods are only just beginning.

We have here, simply put, the fantasy debut of 2010. M. D. Lachlan has five novels to his other name, but Wolfsangel marks the author's first blush in terms of genre, and his is an unforgettable arrival. Lachlan weaves a remarkable tapestry of narrative in the first part of this multi-volume epic which, though it stands strong on its own merits, alludes to such great things that the chances are we have the next Peter V. Brett on our hands. In point of fact, one aspect of Wolfsangel - the relatively traditional quest Vali and Feilig join forces to undertake - very much puts one in mind of The Painted Man, though where Brett occasionally came across as amateurish, if utterly beguiling in his enthusiasm, Lachlan's voice and grasp of his novel's onion-skin of a narrative is authoritative, always.

The twins are an involving pair: alien and yet relatable, well differentiated despite their physical and aspirational similarities, Vali and Feilig each come into their own over the course of a journey pockmarked by hardships which twist both characters in interesting ways. Their quest to save Adisla would have made for a fine, if unexceptional fantasy novel in and of itself, but Lachlan has far grander designs, for this is tale of and indeed for the ages. It is but the beginning of a chronicle of "centuries and lives" which will "see the endless battle between the wolf, Odin and Loki - the eternal trickster - spill over into countless bloody conflicts throughout history," and while big ideas are ten-a-penny in genre fiction, Lachlan walks the talk.

Wolfsangel stands alone just fine as a straightforward, mythology-laden quest narrative set against a fascinating world, but what sets it apart as great, rather than merely good, is its ambition. Intermingled with the earthly concerns of Vali and Feilig are disturbing, otherworldly encounters with Gods and monsters alike which truly elevate the scope and imaginative prowess of Lachlan's outstanding first fantasy. In a genre which so often hopes to cater to all comers, and so rarely succeeds, Wolfsangel does the impossible: it is both the beginning of a saga that positively begs to be told and an accomplished and satisfying tale in its own right. Only time will tell what vulpine wonders await the lovelorn beast at the heart of this powerful narrative, but this much I can say for sure: Lachlan makes a fantastic first impression.

***

Wolfsangel

by M. D. Lachlan

May 2010, Gollancz

Buy this book from
Amazon.co.uk / Amazon.com /
IndieBound / The Book Depository

Recommended and Related Reading

From Your Blogosphere Correspondent (08/01/10)

A myriad of developments and disagreements have over the past few days made the speculative fiction blogosphere a particularly entertaining place to be. Conveniently, The Speculate Scotsman thought to round a few of the best articles up for your reading pleasure. In no particular order, then:

• 
  
  There's a debate in progress about the appropriateness of describing prose as "clunky" in literary criticism. Hal Duncan, author of Ink and Vellum, looks to have challenged Mark Charon Newton, staunch proponent of the New Weird if Nights of Villjamur is anything to judge by, to all-out internet warfare. This link will get you started.
  
  
  

• 
  
  The most recent episode of Alex Telander's podcast played host to none other than Guy Gavriel Kay, who discusses at some length the research he undertook before beginning the process of writing his forthcoming Tang-dynasty epic Under Heaven. Download or stream it from the Book Banter blog.
  
  
  

• 
  
  Joe Hill, successor to Stephen King - and not just in terms of their shared DNA - recently updated his blog with the results of an extensive Twitter Q&A session about his new novel, Horns. There should be a more thorough preview of it on the blog this week.
  
  
  

• 
  
  Here's hoping Mark Charon Newton might have something to say about James Long's recent assertion at Speculative Horizons that the New Weird genre is growing less relevant by the day. The suggestion has been the subject of some interesting discussion beginning here.
  
  
  

• 
  
  And finally, Pat from the one and only Fantasy Hotlist somehow charmed author Peter V. Brett into sharin with the internet at large an excerpt from his April sequel to The Painted Man. If you just can't wait, read it here.