Terry Brooks
Orbit
ISBN: 978-1-84149-480-7
Armageddon’s Children sports the subtitle ‘every legend has a beginning’, but a crueller man than me might consider mentioning more suitable ones. ‘How to kill your sense of wonder’, perhaps, or ‘Leave no cash cow unmilked’. No, wait, I just mentioned them. Get your own.
This, then, is the first in the long unwaited-for trilogy bridging Terry Brooks’ The Word and the Void and Shannara series’. The knightly protagonist of the former, John Ross, was plagued with visions of the nightmarish future which awaited humanity if he should fail to defend it from demons of the Void, while the Shannara books have always hinted at the idea that they were wallowing in the ruins of a post-apocalyptic Earth. In the later series’ particularly, said hints had all the subtlety of a thermonuclear exchange, and true to the trend Armageddon’s Children substantiates all those prophecies and hints with gleeful disregard for any sense of tact or, well, sensitivity.
Yet bizarrely, leaving aside for the moment the question as to whether this book needed to be written at all, Brooks for some reason cheats even those die-hard fans who really did want all their dots connected. Armageddon’s Children kicks off fifty years in the future, long after the last missile fell to Earth, and his characters are too young to remember the Apocalypse. Certainly there are good reasons to pass over the end of the world: doing so allows Brooks to avoid all the hoary clichés of apocalypse-in-motion, while giving Armageddon the attention it deserves would probably require another trilogy’s worth of fiction before this one even got started. There might be another reason, though; the authorial freedom granted by a few years’ disconnect between the impossibly complex reality of modern life and Brooks’ post-nuclear landscape. The world of Armageddon’s Children isn’t a natural evolution of the one we know, or even a decent attempt at it; it’s a cardboard cutout, flat and stale. There’s no sense of organic history, of how these terrible developments might have come about. Just same tired clichés trotted out. Walled compounds filled with semi-benevolent fascists: check. Packs of feral street kids roaming the ruined cities: check. Giant mutant beasties, made giant and mutant through the miracle of radiation! Check.
And of course the armies of marauding raiders, devoid of humanity or reason; what self-respecting post-apocalyptia would be complete without them? And in case you didn’t know about them, Brooks lays them bare before his reader in the first chapter:
The real enemies were the once-men, humans subverted not by radiation and chemicals but by false promises which went something like this: “Do you want to know what it will take to survive? A willingness to do what is needed. The world has always belongs to the strongest…”
Once they embraced the propaganda of the demons, they fell quickly into the thicket of resulting madness. (p.11)
The tragedy of what men must do in order to survive? No, it’s demon propaganda making them Bad Men. In half a page of amateur psychoanalysis, Brooks builds a ghetto fence down the centre of his book: good on this side, evil on the other. Good guys, you have your orders: kill the evil ones with impunity, and without remorse. They’re evil, after all.
It might be a genre trope of high fantasy, but in a gritty post-apocalyptic setting like this such black and white distinctions tend to erode the suspension of disbelief somewhat. And Brooks’ reductive tendencies also deftly render the once-men fairly useless as any kind of credible threat; they’re predictable, one-dimensional and boring, entirely free of suspense. And sure enough for the rest of the book they’re little more than pop-up targets for the heroes to eliminate, like some apocalyptic game of whack-a-mole.
It’s possible that my mistake is in identifying Armageddon’s Children as gritty, however; when nine-tenths of the world’s population has been wiped out and demons roam the earth, you might think you’d be justified in assuming a little grit. But Brooks’ ruined Earth is like the painted backdrop of a theatrical production; it looks the part, but has nothing to do with what’s actually happening on-stage. Instead we get a peculiarly PG-rated version of apocalyptia, where cutesy ‘Street Kids’ play baseball in the mutant-haunted ruins and even the mean and moody ghetto stereotypes refuse to swear:
“You’re out!” shouted Sparrow.
“Out!” Panther laughed. “No frickin’ way!”
“Out!” Sparrow repeated …
Panther picked up the broomstick, waved it her threateningly, and then threw it down again. “What are you talking about? That don’t count! ...”
“It hit you last, and you’re out!”
“You’re frickin’ crazy!”
Sparrow stalked over to him, brushing her mop of straw-coloured hair out of her blue eyes, brow furrowed in anger. “Don’t talk to me like that! Don’t use that street language on me, Panther Puss! Owl, tell him he’s out!” (pp.170-171)
…and so on, like some bizarre amalgam of On the Beach and The House at Pooh Corner.
But the most jarring moment comes about halfway through the book, when the narrative turns its focus on a young Elf caring for the magical Ellcrys, the tree which maintained the Forbidding which kept demonkind in check since the time of Faerie. And if you’re wondering what on earth that sort of high-fantasy language is doing in a post-apocalyptic setting, you’re not alone. It’s as though Brooks forgot which series he was writing for a couple of chapters, and slipped into Shannara without realising. Yes, this is supposed to be the series which bridges the gap between the modern world and Shannara’s high fantasy, but the change of tone is so sudden and jarring that the book never really recovers. If the world is slowly slipping into magic and wonder, shouldn’t the subtlety of the transformation be reflected in the written style? There are any number of ways Brooks could have allowed the fantastic to seep into his apocalypse; the sudden plunge into fantasy tropes we’re given here smacks of nothing more than laziness.
Nonetheless, it’s a change that even the more grounded characters seem to accept with little more than token protest. Witness the baffling moment when Angel Perez, paladin of the Word, is sent off in search of an Elfstone:
Angel scowled, angry now. “Elves created it? You’re saying there are Elves out there? What does that mean? Look, I don’t know what any of this is about. I don’t know anything about Elves and their stones. I’m a barrio girl, a street girl, never even been this far north before in my life, and this Elf stuff is just words that don’t mean anything. You want to tell me what you’re talking about?” (pp.232-3)
Thanks for explaining yourself so thoroughly, Angel. But one short burst of expository dialogue later, she’s quite at home with the idea:
Well, she thought, if you’d accepted that tatterdemalions were real, how big of a jump was it to believe in Elves? (p.233)
How big of a jump indeed? Again, it’s a difficult line to walk; the conversion of the sceptic is a hoary old cliché of contemporary fantasy, and it would have been hard to do it well. But even retreading old ground would have been preferable to the writer’s fiat Brooks employs again and again in Armageddon’s Children.
Better to have left the genesis of Shannara alone than do it badly; at least that way fans of Brooks’ earlier work would still have a mystery to hold onto, to wonder and to talk about. But Brooks has taken that raw potential, that untapped possibility which excites the imagination, and wrung it dry to produce a very ordinary book. Which is such a shame.
This review was originally written for SFcrowsnest.com
Showing posts with label Terry Brooks. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Terry Brooks. Show all posts
Friday, 2 October 2009
Friday, 2 September 2005
Straken
Terry Brooks
Del Rey
ISBN: 0-7432-5946-7
Grianne Ohmsford, head of the Druid order, still languishes in the dark and demonic world of the Forbidding, but things could be worse. thanks to the strange creature called Weka Dart she is free of the Straken Lord’s dungeons and although she doesn’t know it, her family’s rescue attempt is coming along nicely. Pen Ohmsford has retrieved the talisman he needs to free her, though it has cost him dearly. Now all he must do is return to the Druid keep, where all their enemies lurk, and enter the Forbidding to reclaim her.
Demons and Druids stand in the way of the touching family reunion but really, what could be simpler? If that sounds rather casual, it is because the Ohmsfords have been saving the world for so long now that they barely have to put any effort into it. The first two Shannara series’ were truly epic, rich in character and wonder. By comparison 'Straken' has all the depth of a child’s paddling pool, its characters pale shadows and the tale they inhabit a lifeless corpse. It feels tired, as though the author’s love for his creation has faded to nothing and he now churns out these stories on automatic. The spark of imagination, that special something which made Shannara so popular, has gone out.
Nothing makes that clearer than the repetition that can be found in 'Straken', prison breaks and airship battles used, given a fresh coat of paint, and used again. In contrast the Four Lands, Brooks’ distinctive setting, is barely touched upon. A once marvellous place, in Straken it is cruelly under-represented. What replaces it is wholly mundane, lacking the majesty it once possessed. The demon-world inside the Forbidding, a new location unexplored in previous novels, is similarly wasted. An opportunity to create a place of despair and unforgiving savagery is squandered, the land inside the Forbidding appearing no darker or more dangerous than a stroll in the park. This is a place to which creatures of dark magic and evil intent were banished, yet in Brooks’ hands it seems dull and unthreatening.
Straken is not a bad novel - it is simply bland and uninspiring. The fantasy genre is saturated with poor imitations of Brooks’ work, and this book somehow feels like one of them. There is nothing that stands out, either for damnation or praise, yet the author’s reputation ensures it will sell. A shame, when so many fresh and original works will be overlooked. Brooks has shown he is a writer of talent and imagination, yet both seem to have deserted him here. The reader turns the last page with ambivalence, caring little for shallow characters and the limited growth granted them by an unadventurous narrative. Perhaps it is time Shannara was allowed to rest?
Whether it will or not is another question. The end of the novel feels rushed, incomplete, and several plot threads are left frustratingly untied. Perhaps Brooks is planning to make ‘High Druid of Shannara’ a four book series? If not, certain subplots within ‘Straken’ are rendered mysteriously pointless. A shame, because their intricacies were more engaging than the main story itself, little gems amid the dross. A dragon; the fate of Weka Dart; even the Straken Lord himself, built up in the preceding novel and unforgivably sidelined here. All saved for another time? I hope so, just as I hope to see Brooks regain his old form. It wouldn’t do for another book to join ‘Straken’ on my ‘Big disappointment’ shelf, would it?
This review was originally written for SFcrowsnest.com
Del Rey
ISBN: 0-7432-5946-7
Grianne Ohmsford, head of the Druid order, still languishes in the dark and demonic world of the Forbidding, but things could be worse. thanks to the strange creature called Weka Dart she is free of the Straken Lord’s dungeons and although she doesn’t know it, her family’s rescue attempt is coming along nicely. Pen Ohmsford has retrieved the talisman he needs to free her, though it has cost him dearly. Now all he must do is return to the Druid keep, where all their enemies lurk, and enter the Forbidding to reclaim her.
Demons and Druids stand in the way of the touching family reunion but really, what could be simpler? If that sounds rather casual, it is because the Ohmsfords have been saving the world for so long now that they barely have to put any effort into it. The first two Shannara series’ were truly epic, rich in character and wonder. By comparison 'Straken' has all the depth of a child’s paddling pool, its characters pale shadows and the tale they inhabit a lifeless corpse. It feels tired, as though the author’s love for his creation has faded to nothing and he now churns out these stories on automatic. The spark of imagination, that special something which made Shannara so popular, has gone out.
Nothing makes that clearer than the repetition that can be found in 'Straken', prison breaks and airship battles used, given a fresh coat of paint, and used again. In contrast the Four Lands, Brooks’ distinctive setting, is barely touched upon. A once marvellous place, in Straken it is cruelly under-represented. What replaces it is wholly mundane, lacking the majesty it once possessed. The demon-world inside the Forbidding, a new location unexplored in previous novels, is similarly wasted. An opportunity to create a place of despair and unforgiving savagery is squandered, the land inside the Forbidding appearing no darker or more dangerous than a stroll in the park. This is a place to which creatures of dark magic and evil intent were banished, yet in Brooks’ hands it seems dull and unthreatening.
Straken is not a bad novel - it is simply bland and uninspiring. The fantasy genre is saturated with poor imitations of Brooks’ work, and this book somehow feels like one of them. There is nothing that stands out, either for damnation or praise, yet the author’s reputation ensures it will sell. A shame, when so many fresh and original works will be overlooked. Brooks has shown he is a writer of talent and imagination, yet both seem to have deserted him here. The reader turns the last page with ambivalence, caring little for shallow characters and the limited growth granted them by an unadventurous narrative. Perhaps it is time Shannara was allowed to rest?
Whether it will or not is another question. The end of the novel feels rushed, incomplete, and several plot threads are left frustratingly untied. Perhaps Brooks is planning to make ‘High Druid of Shannara’ a four book series? If not, certain subplots within ‘Straken’ are rendered mysteriously pointless. A shame, because their intricacies were more engaging than the main story itself, little gems amid the dross. A dragon; the fate of Weka Dart; even the Straken Lord himself, built up in the preceding novel and unforgivably sidelined here. All saved for another time? I hope so, just as I hope to see Brooks regain his old form. It wouldn’t do for another book to join ‘Straken’ on my ‘Big disappointment’ shelf, would it?
This review was originally written for SFcrowsnest.com
Tuesday, 1 March 2005
Tanequil
Terry Brooks
Simon and Schuster
ISBN: 0-7432-5674-3
Things aren’t going too well for Grianne Ohmsford, the Ard Rhys of the Druid Order. Her attempts to bring peace and harmony to the Four Lands have (as such attempts often do) met with little success, the rulers of the various realms far more interested in continuing their bloody feuds than bringing about a golden age of prosperity. On top of her political problems, a rather more cold-blooded rival recently dropped her right in the middle of the Forbidding, that cheerful realm that the Demons call home, and took control of the Order for herself. Demons are devious things as everybody knows, so it’s not surprising poor Grianne found herself captured at the end of the last book. Foreign travel, eh?
Meanwhile in the more material world of the Four Lands, Grianne’s nephew Pen has been charged by the ethereal King of the Silver River with retrieving the talisman that will let him enter the Forbidding and rescue his aunt. The new High Druid, Shadea a’Ru, is understandably less than thrilled with the nature of Pen’s quest and has set both the Druids themselves and her shadowy assassin Aphasia Wye on his trail. Together with a handful of allies Pen tries desperately to find the Tanequil before it’s too late, while in the war-torn borderland of the Prekkendorran the totalitarian Federation unveils a terrible new weapon. Things are looking fairly bleak for the freedom-loving citizens of the Four Lands, but one has to keep these heroic types busy somehow. Heaven only knows what they’d get up to otherwise.
As the middle book of an ‘epic’ trilogy, ‘Tanequil’ was always going to have a few pacing problems. Following conventional dramatic form the middle act is the part where the heroes suffer the unrelenting hammer blows of defeat before rising up for a stirring and climatic finale, and this book is nothing but conventional. Unfortunately it’s also as bland as unflavoured porridge, our protagonists’ misfortunes raising not a squeak of interest in the reader. Perhaps it is that we’ve been through this before, in a stream of fantasy quest adventures reaching back through Eddings and dozens of others to ol’ master Tolkien. Everything here has been done already, not least of all by Brooks himself who has made a very successful career out of Tolkien impersonation. This is by-the-numbers fantasy and it’s all so very dull.
When Terry Brooks began the Shannara series it was just what the genre needed. Exciting, well written and epic in scope, it was a joy to read. But like a faded champion in search of past glories it has lingered and what made it special has long since departed. Instead of something new we get a re-hash of old plots and characters where only the names have changed. There’s nothing here we haven’t seen before.
To give the author credit, his writing style is as good as it’s ever been. To a fantasy virgin or someone who is unfamiliar with Brooks’ work ‘Tanequil’ could be entertaining enough, possessing as it does a certain effortless beauty. The descriptions are powerful and the world of the Four Lands is, as ever, an impressive creation. Even the recent addition of high technology such as sunlight-powered airships – something that doesn’t mesh terribly well with the grit and magic of the rest of the setting – can’t spoil that depth. The characters too are convincing, coming with flaws and neuroses built in. The dialogue occasionally stalls and it’s difficult to distinguish between speaking characters by speech patterns alone, but that’s neither here nor there. On the one hand you have the rich Shannara setting, built up over many years and a dozen or so novels, and on the other hand you have… a great vacant hole where the plot should be.
That is ‘Tanequil’s biggest flaw. The entire novel reads like an extended chase scene, with the Druids running along behind Pen Ohmsford like something from a Benny Hill sketch. The interludes with Grianne’s experiences in the Forbidding are something else, showing a spark of originality that the series is otherwise sorely lacking, but they are too few and far between. Only in those scenes does something resembling a plot arise and it is there that the emphasis should have been placed, not – as it sadly is – on the awkward and contrived love story that is Pen’s escape from the Druids.
Hopefully the third book in the trilogy will remedy the many faults of this one, but it certainly has a struggle ahead of it. Considering how slow things have been moving so far, the pace is also going to have to drastically pick up otherwise I can see ‘High Druid of Shannara’ becoming a trilogy of four, ‘Hitch-hiker’s Guide’ style. This series has nothing to recommend it over Shannaras past, and it’s those previous series’ that a newcomer to Brooks’ work should seek out. For the veteran, ‘Tanequil’ will be nothing but a disappointment.
Whether the third book ‘Straken’ can throw a log on the fuel-starved fire of originality remains to be seen, but Brooks certainly has the ability – all he needs now are a few fresh ideas. Until they arrive, ‘Tanequil’ will find a place on my ‘shadow of former glory’ shelf.
This review was originally written for SFcrowsnest.com
Simon and Schuster
ISBN: 0-7432-5674-3
Things aren’t going too well for Grianne Ohmsford, the Ard Rhys of the Druid Order. Her attempts to bring peace and harmony to the Four Lands have (as such attempts often do) met with little success, the rulers of the various realms far more interested in continuing their bloody feuds than bringing about a golden age of prosperity. On top of her political problems, a rather more cold-blooded rival recently dropped her right in the middle of the Forbidding, that cheerful realm that the Demons call home, and took control of the Order for herself. Demons are devious things as everybody knows, so it’s not surprising poor Grianne found herself captured at the end of the last book. Foreign travel, eh?
Meanwhile in the more material world of the Four Lands, Grianne’s nephew Pen has been charged by the ethereal King of the Silver River with retrieving the talisman that will let him enter the Forbidding and rescue his aunt. The new High Druid, Shadea a’Ru, is understandably less than thrilled with the nature of Pen’s quest and has set both the Druids themselves and her shadowy assassin Aphasia Wye on his trail. Together with a handful of allies Pen tries desperately to find the Tanequil before it’s too late, while in the war-torn borderland of the Prekkendorran the totalitarian Federation unveils a terrible new weapon. Things are looking fairly bleak for the freedom-loving citizens of the Four Lands, but one has to keep these heroic types busy somehow. Heaven only knows what they’d get up to otherwise.
As the middle book of an ‘epic’ trilogy, ‘Tanequil’ was always going to have a few pacing problems. Following conventional dramatic form the middle act is the part where the heroes suffer the unrelenting hammer blows of defeat before rising up for a stirring and climatic finale, and this book is nothing but conventional. Unfortunately it’s also as bland as unflavoured porridge, our protagonists’ misfortunes raising not a squeak of interest in the reader. Perhaps it is that we’ve been through this before, in a stream of fantasy quest adventures reaching back through Eddings and dozens of others to ol’ master Tolkien. Everything here has been done already, not least of all by Brooks himself who has made a very successful career out of Tolkien impersonation. This is by-the-numbers fantasy and it’s all so very dull.
When Terry Brooks began the Shannara series it was just what the genre needed. Exciting, well written and epic in scope, it was a joy to read. But like a faded champion in search of past glories it has lingered and what made it special has long since departed. Instead of something new we get a re-hash of old plots and characters where only the names have changed. There’s nothing here we haven’t seen before.
To give the author credit, his writing style is as good as it’s ever been. To a fantasy virgin or someone who is unfamiliar with Brooks’ work ‘Tanequil’ could be entertaining enough, possessing as it does a certain effortless beauty. The descriptions are powerful and the world of the Four Lands is, as ever, an impressive creation. Even the recent addition of high technology such as sunlight-powered airships – something that doesn’t mesh terribly well with the grit and magic of the rest of the setting – can’t spoil that depth. The characters too are convincing, coming with flaws and neuroses built in. The dialogue occasionally stalls and it’s difficult to distinguish between speaking characters by speech patterns alone, but that’s neither here nor there. On the one hand you have the rich Shannara setting, built up over many years and a dozen or so novels, and on the other hand you have… a great vacant hole where the plot should be.
That is ‘Tanequil’s biggest flaw. The entire novel reads like an extended chase scene, with the Druids running along behind Pen Ohmsford like something from a Benny Hill sketch. The interludes with Grianne’s experiences in the Forbidding are something else, showing a spark of originality that the series is otherwise sorely lacking, but they are too few and far between. Only in those scenes does something resembling a plot arise and it is there that the emphasis should have been placed, not – as it sadly is – on the awkward and contrived love story that is Pen’s escape from the Druids.
Hopefully the third book in the trilogy will remedy the many faults of this one, but it certainly has a struggle ahead of it. Considering how slow things have been moving so far, the pace is also going to have to drastically pick up otherwise I can see ‘High Druid of Shannara’ becoming a trilogy of four, ‘Hitch-hiker’s Guide’ style. This series has nothing to recommend it over Shannaras past, and it’s those previous series’ that a newcomer to Brooks’ work should seek out. For the veteran, ‘Tanequil’ will be nothing but a disappointment.
Whether the third book ‘Straken’ can throw a log on the fuel-starved fire of originality remains to be seen, but Brooks certainly has the ability – all he needs now are a few fresh ideas. Until they arrive, ‘Tanequil’ will find a place on my ‘shadow of former glory’ shelf.
This review was originally written for SFcrowsnest.com
Sunday, 2 November 2003
The Word and the Void
Terry Brooks
Orbit
ISBN 1-84149-266-3
‘The Word And The Void’ is a compilation of the three tales of John Ross and Nest Freemark – ‘Running With The Demon’, ‘A Knight Of the Word’, and ‘Angel Fire East’. The novels span the fifteen years between Ross’s two visits to Hopewell, Illinois, and illustrate his ongoing battle with the creatures of the Void, the very essence of evil and destruction. For Ross is a Knight of the Word, an agent of the opposing force of creation and good, and he fights to save humanity from the dark future that awaits it.
In the first and best of the three books, Ross arrives in Hopewell for the first time, hot on the trail of a demonic foe. But he has other, more sinister reasons for being there. The Knight is gifted with prophetic dreams of the apocalyptic future, and something terrible is due to unfold in this sleepy midwestern town. It is Ross’s duty to prevent that occurrence, and he enlists the aid of the young Nest Freemark who possesses no small magic of her own. As they oppose the minions of the Void, Nest will be forced to confront her own dark family past and discover the truth about her parents.
In ‘A Knight Of The Word’, five years has passed since John Ross left Hopewell. He has lost his faith and his power, forsaking his vows as a Knight, and works in the big city at a shelter for the homeless. Little does he know a demon seeks to corrupt him, turning him to the service of the Void, a fallen paladin commanding the forces of evil. Nest Freemark is dispatched by the Word to reason with him, explaining the danger he is in, but Ross is caught up in his new work and wants nothing to do with his old life. To save him Nest must reveal the all-encompassing nature of the war between the Word and the Void and bring him back to face his enemy.
In the final part of the trilogy, John Ross returns to Hopewell fifteen years after he left to seek Nest Freemark’s aid. He has captured a gypsy morph, a creature of magic that could turn the tide of the war for whoever unlocks its secret. But all the forces of the Void are mobilised against him and closing on Hopewell, where Ross must face up to his most deadly opponent yet as he struggles to solve the mystery and claim the magic for the Word.
Terry Brooks writes with skill and finesse, illustrating his world with expressive description and an eloquent, almost lyrical flow to the words. In particular he has a knack for interesting and evocative phrases and metaphors that truly bring his scenes to life. The world his characters inhabit is one very similar to our own, albeit darker and more hopeless, where the war between the Void and the Word takes place in the shadows out of the public eye but influences every aspect of daily life. It is a war for humanity’s soul, an endless battle to keep civilisation from collapsing into anarchy and terror, and the Void is winning. Brooks uses his secret war to point out the slow decay of our culture, the erosion of morality and honest values in favour of chaos and selfishness. Everywhere throughout the three books there are signs of this downslide in standards, though each one takes a particular issue as its centre – unemployment, homelessness, and drugs respectively. Each topic is well researched and the air of defeat and hopelessness excellently conveyed, and the idea of the world ending as a result of hundreds of minor, inconsequential events and failures is an interesting and original one. Brooks comments on society and its little failures are perceptive and insightful, his message clear. We think we are invulnerable but Brooks shows us the fragility of our way of life, and it is frightening.
The characterisation within all three stories is of the highest quality, with every character from the heroes and villains to relative nobodies well documented and their motivations and actions consistent. Similarly, the events that unfold during each book are straightforward and make perfect sense, the mundane and fantastic worlds meshing together nicely. The development of Nest over the fifteen years between books is particularly fascinating, almost as if you’re seeing snapshots as a girl grows into a woman. The only problem I had with the characters is Pick, the sylvan guardian of Sinnissippi Park. The idea of a foot-high man made of bark and leaves seems curiously at odds with the dark, gritty setting, and his personality reeks suspiciously of comic relief, something which shouldn’t be necessary in a series as serious and hard-hitting as this. With the exception of Findo Gast in ‘Angel Fire East’, the villains of each book remain relatively uncharacterised – the demon in the first book is never even named. However, this is no real problem, as their motivations are clear enough and they remain true to form throughout.
The style and pacing in each book is excellent, with a very slow, long build up to the final confrontation near the end of each book. The only downside to all this is that the finales themselves fail to live up to the expectations created, leaving the reader slightly let down. It’s not that they climaxes aren’t exciting, merely that they seem slightly flat after all that has come before.
The only real gripe I have with this series is that is seems unfinished. The events at the end of ‘Angel Fire East’ are inconclusive and leave the future uncertain, in a way that almost seems to invite another book. As it is you feel somewhat let down, unsatisfied by the nebulous ending. But even combined with the occasional utterly bizarre character name – a relic from Brooks’ Shannara series – this cannot spoil an utterly riveting trilogy, and so ‘The Word and the Void’ will take up a place of honour on my ‘Social Commentary’ shelf.
This review was originally written for SFcrowsnest.com
Orbit
ISBN 1-84149-266-3
‘The Word And The Void’ is a compilation of the three tales of John Ross and Nest Freemark – ‘Running With The Demon’, ‘A Knight Of the Word’, and ‘Angel Fire East’. The novels span the fifteen years between Ross’s two visits to Hopewell, Illinois, and illustrate his ongoing battle with the creatures of the Void, the very essence of evil and destruction. For Ross is a Knight of the Word, an agent of the opposing force of creation and good, and he fights to save humanity from the dark future that awaits it.
In the first and best of the three books, Ross arrives in Hopewell for the first time, hot on the trail of a demonic foe. But he has other, more sinister reasons for being there. The Knight is gifted with prophetic dreams of the apocalyptic future, and something terrible is due to unfold in this sleepy midwestern town. It is Ross’s duty to prevent that occurrence, and he enlists the aid of the young Nest Freemark who possesses no small magic of her own. As they oppose the minions of the Void, Nest will be forced to confront her own dark family past and discover the truth about her parents.
In ‘A Knight Of The Word’, five years has passed since John Ross left Hopewell. He has lost his faith and his power, forsaking his vows as a Knight, and works in the big city at a shelter for the homeless. Little does he know a demon seeks to corrupt him, turning him to the service of the Void, a fallen paladin commanding the forces of evil. Nest Freemark is dispatched by the Word to reason with him, explaining the danger he is in, but Ross is caught up in his new work and wants nothing to do with his old life. To save him Nest must reveal the all-encompassing nature of the war between the Word and the Void and bring him back to face his enemy.
In the final part of the trilogy, John Ross returns to Hopewell fifteen years after he left to seek Nest Freemark’s aid. He has captured a gypsy morph, a creature of magic that could turn the tide of the war for whoever unlocks its secret. But all the forces of the Void are mobilised against him and closing on Hopewell, where Ross must face up to his most deadly opponent yet as he struggles to solve the mystery and claim the magic for the Word.
Terry Brooks writes with skill and finesse, illustrating his world with expressive description and an eloquent, almost lyrical flow to the words. In particular he has a knack for interesting and evocative phrases and metaphors that truly bring his scenes to life. The world his characters inhabit is one very similar to our own, albeit darker and more hopeless, where the war between the Void and the Word takes place in the shadows out of the public eye but influences every aspect of daily life. It is a war for humanity’s soul, an endless battle to keep civilisation from collapsing into anarchy and terror, and the Void is winning. Brooks uses his secret war to point out the slow decay of our culture, the erosion of morality and honest values in favour of chaos and selfishness. Everywhere throughout the three books there are signs of this downslide in standards, though each one takes a particular issue as its centre – unemployment, homelessness, and drugs respectively. Each topic is well researched and the air of defeat and hopelessness excellently conveyed, and the idea of the world ending as a result of hundreds of minor, inconsequential events and failures is an interesting and original one. Brooks comments on society and its little failures are perceptive and insightful, his message clear. We think we are invulnerable but Brooks shows us the fragility of our way of life, and it is frightening.
The characterisation within all three stories is of the highest quality, with every character from the heroes and villains to relative nobodies well documented and their motivations and actions consistent. Similarly, the events that unfold during each book are straightforward and make perfect sense, the mundane and fantastic worlds meshing together nicely. The development of Nest over the fifteen years between books is particularly fascinating, almost as if you’re seeing snapshots as a girl grows into a woman. The only problem I had with the characters is Pick, the sylvan guardian of Sinnissippi Park. The idea of a foot-high man made of bark and leaves seems curiously at odds with the dark, gritty setting, and his personality reeks suspiciously of comic relief, something which shouldn’t be necessary in a series as serious and hard-hitting as this. With the exception of Findo Gast in ‘Angel Fire East’, the villains of each book remain relatively uncharacterised – the demon in the first book is never even named. However, this is no real problem, as their motivations are clear enough and they remain true to form throughout.
The style and pacing in each book is excellent, with a very slow, long build up to the final confrontation near the end of each book. The only downside to all this is that the finales themselves fail to live up to the expectations created, leaving the reader slightly let down. It’s not that they climaxes aren’t exciting, merely that they seem slightly flat after all that has come before.
The only real gripe I have with this series is that is seems unfinished. The events at the end of ‘Angel Fire East’ are inconclusive and leave the future uncertain, in a way that almost seems to invite another book. As it is you feel somewhat let down, unsatisfied by the nebulous ending. But even combined with the occasional utterly bizarre character name – a relic from Brooks’ Shannara series – this cannot spoil an utterly riveting trilogy, and so ‘The Word and the Void’ will take up a place of honour on my ‘Social Commentary’ shelf.
This review was originally written for SFcrowsnest.com
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