It’s those books where alternate-history Renaissance France is full of beautiful people who have the very best sex in all of alternate-history Europe, while traveling the world in search of adventures and things! At its best, Carey’s Terre d’Ange series takes the Eddingsian exploratory motif and tosses it with liberally applied political intrigue and a dash of romance, to the general good. (Plus, some light and occasionally not-so-light bondage wanders across the page. Y’know.) At its worst, you have Kushiel’s Mercy, which is really not that bad of a worst, if I didn’t have five other books to compare it to.
The political and (increasingly more frequent) magical plots are pretty great; unfortunately, the less spoiled about them, the better[1], so I can’t really elaborate. But where I would normally expect to see yet more exploration of alternate Europe and environs, most of first-person narrator Imriel’s focus is on the survival of his relationship with Princess Sidonie. Which is really just too many reflections about how dire things are and how certain he is to overcome them nevertheless, especially when you consider that he’s still traveling to three new locations over the course of the book. On a more subjective note, I had a problem with a mid-book twist in which the consistent first-person narration was broken via the introduction of a new-to-the-series character. Upon reflection, I should ought to be glad to have let Imriel’s focus take a rest, but it was just too jarring of a shift.
In the end, it’s as I said before. I was looking for a fantasy travelogue with a little romance, and I got a romance novel with a bit of travel thrown in. It was still a good book, just not quite as good as what I wanted. Mostly, it has made me want to pick up one of my unread Dave Duncan serieses.
[1] But check this out: the jacket didn’t spoil it either, which is awesome both for itself and for the unusualness of the event.
You know, I learned something about myself while watching the remake of
These past several Mondays, my regular game of Halo 3 has rapidly and with a feeling of potential permanency changed to a new game.
The last Horrorfest review has been delayed, by virtue of the fact that I am a lazy bastard and finally didn’t have a big stack of behind staring at me. A little behind, that’s okay! Um. To be clear, I am referring to my having a backlog of reviews to write, not to Baby and the positive and negative aspects of her back-capacity. Of course, now I’m all distracted by the Jonathon Coulton music in my head.
Horrorfest III, day 2 opened with
While waiting for the third movie to start, ridiculously late last night, I made kind of a cardinal mistake. If I believed for an instant there would be a fourth Horrorfest, despite the missed timing, horrible scheduling of the movies over the course of this weekend and the next week, and the single digit attendance numbers yesterday, I would make a point of being at the beginning or in the middle of a long book during that weekend. Because now I have to take that much extra time to write a thoughtful book review, too? We’re taking eight movies in three days, you know! (Though it remains to be seen if that’s true, with special thanks due once again to the Fest’s carefully planned-for-maximal-uselessness screening schedule.)