At an unreasonably slow rate, I have gotten to the second book of the Darwath trilogy, The Walls of Air. And as a chapter in that series, it was pretty good! Characters and relationships developed, plot advanced, the world and its history gained a little more clarity. All the things you would want out of an ongoing story. It’s just that, as a book alone, it had issues. (This right here is where my penchant for staying away from reading groups of books all in a row meets with occasional failure.)

Our romantically entangled heroes split into two groups, with wizards Ingold and Rudy off to seek the assistance[1] of the wizard school at Quo, whose residents may have the knowledge and/or power to fight the Dark, while city guard and former grad student[2] Gil and widowed Queen Minalde stay behind with the last vestiges of the kingdom of Darwath at the ancient Keep of Renweth, renowned for being able to keep the Dark Ones out. Rudy’s arc is both the slowest and the most necessary, as by the end of the book, it actually seems like he might have grown into a useful element in the story, instead of being only an observer to Ingold’s awesomeness. Gil’s arc deals with the acquisition of knowledge, which she does with the same single-minded determination she throws into her guard duties. Minalde’s arc is about growing into leadership and Ingold’s arc is about learning to rely on people who are not himself. Like every middle book of every trilogy, things seem far worse by the end than they did at the beginning, but glimmers of new hope are still out there.

The problem I had, I think, was the pacing. I feel like there were maybe 100 pages of text devoted to plot, and not that much more devoted to character development. Rudy grew a lot, as I said, and Minalde grew a little, but Ingold’s changes were incremental at best (a problem with someone who starts off so strong) and Gil didn’t particularly change at all. Then again, she hardly needed to. My point, I guess, is that when the plot status is hardly different at the end of the book than where it started, and only one character has undergone major changes? It feels like things could probably have been tightened up. Still, I should say that this was something I thought about but rarely during the course of the book; it’s only that I have so little to say while reflecting on it now, and I think that this pacing issue is the reason.

[1] Should I back up a step and mention that society is collapsing because underground-dwelling, shape-changing, light-averse beings known as Dark Ones have burst forth from beneath major cities to mostly slaughter humankind? Consider it mentioned!
[2] Should I also mention that Rudy and Gil[3] are from California, brought by Ingold when he was saving the royal heir during the first modern attack by the Dark, last book? I guess I already have, in a way.
[3] Jill? Gill? I wish I had any idea how that’s meant to be pronounced!

What I think I like best about the Vlad Taltos novels is the voice, just as it has been what I liked best about the Paarfi novels that comprise most of the rest of Steven Brust’s Dragaeren world. Although, mind you, I’ve read other books by him where the voice was not the primary feature, so it’s not like voice is his only skill. (In these, it is pretty clearly a stronger skill than plotting just lately, but even then, I wonder how much of that is really the author, and how much of that is Vlad’s voice coming through more strongly than ever, with his own interest in the plot (read: events occurring in his life) taking a backseat to his interest in how those events are affecting his physical/mental/emotional wellbeing. Our Vlad is definitely… but I get at least a little ahead of myself.)

Iorich documents the furthest step forward in his life to date. Still on the run from Jhereg assassins[1], Vlad’s life seems to consist of, well, not very much, though as usual he implies there are chapters to it we have not yet been told about. This latest interlude of not very much is rudely interrupted when his friend Aliera is accused of practicing Elder sorcery, which she does all the time as a matter of common knowledge even though there is a good reason for it to be so heavily illegal. As most of his friends that would otherwise take care of such a problem are constrained by matters of honor, Vlad immediately sets himself to the task of untangling the odd political situation that has resulted in this common event suddenly being taken seriously for the first time. Which would be basically fine, except for those Jhereg assassins that in case I didn’t mention it intend to not so much kill him as destroy his soul. No question, it’s a bit of a sticky situation.

Here’s what I liked about the book, though. I was down on the plot a few moments ago, but reading over that muddled mess in the previous paragraph that I am pretty sure I have nevertheless described succinctly, it’s a plot that interests me. In practice, it’s a little slower than it should be, but the central questions are really compelling, and Brust dumps all manner of politics[2] into the mix along the way, even including an eventual explanation of what’s been going on. But what really grabbed me was Vlad’s ongoing metamorphosis as a character. He has long been my definitive example of an unreliable narrator, and that’s still true. But I have the sense that he has a much clearer picture of who he is than he has had in previous of his stories. (For one thing, there are at least a couple of mocking references to his own unreliability as a narrator, which I’m confident he was not aware of in, for example, Jhereg or Teckla.[3]) Like I said before, his lack of reliability comes more from what he chooses to care about, these days. And that metamorphosis of character is… well, it’s not what Vlad cares about, that’s not true. But it’s what Brust cares about, and Vlad’s voice is showing it more and more with each book since Phoenix, whether Vlad intends for it to or not. There will come a time, before this series is over, when the man will be an actual human being. He’s not there yet, but I and my psychology degree look forward to it with almost childlike glee.

[1] Look, this is like the 12th or so book in a series. You should ought to read that series, if you haven’t, but if you haven’t, nothing much of this brief summary will make sense. Just trust me that Vlad’s voice is worth your time.
[2] Not just politicking, which is a usual ingredient of a Vlad novel, whether at the personal, professional, national, or even ontological level. But in this case, actual politics. It has been observed that Brust was reading Adam Smith’s The Wealth of Nations during the period in which this book and the next one were/are being written. There’s not a direct line to that fact, at least in this book, but it’s reasonable to assume his political self could have been pushed to the front as a result of it.
[3] If you think it is odd to so frankly discuss a literary character’s self-awareness, well, you’re not wrong about that. But it exists all the same, and without breaking any fourth wall. That’s a pretty neat trick in itself.

Sometimes I know exactly what to say about these things. Other times, and they feel increasingly common (though perhaps that’s my imagination instead? I hope so), I’m a little bit stuck. Is it that the middle of the night makes me too tired for inspiration? Is it that inspiration itself is rarer on some days than others? Is it simply that the book is too easily spoiled if I give very much depth to a plot review, and so I’m going to have to actually stare at the themes for a little while instead, and should maybe ought to quit whining about it and move along? Well, okay, that’s pretty clearly it, but in my defense it is the middle of the night too.

The Hero of Ages concludes Brandon Sanderson’s Mistborn trilogy in grand apocalyptic style. Another year has passed since the events at the Well of Ascension, and circumstances are more dire than ever. In truth, I read a lot of books that describe the end of a world, usually but not exclusively Earth. Sometimes, there are comets. I’m just saying, I know from apocalypse, and out of all such books I’ve read, this is the one that best demonstrated the hopelessness and wanton destruction of a world going through its last throes. I had to slow down now and again just to keep from letting myself get washed away by the currents of despair. But what’s cool is, the book is kind of about that: the capacity for trust in the face of destruction, faith in the face of despair. Also, it’s still about cool powers of jumping around and stabbing every enemy in sight, and sometimes seeing the future, so it’s not like that part of the series has taken a backseat as it progressed; if anything, the magic system has only grown in complexity.

Although the circumstances were not optimal, I’m glad I got a chance to see this author thrust into the limelight, and I’m looking forward to whatever he writes next. (Okay, technically, it’s already written. But I will totally read it, honest! Just not sure how soon.)

I was already reading this book when the Robert Jordan book came out, which explains both why I have skipped my allotment of graphic novels and why I read two books in a row by the same author. At least it isn’t the same series? Anyhow, The Well of Ascension chronicles the continuing adventures of… well, I guess I never talked about the characters in the first Mistborn book, did I? So, anyway, there’s this skaa thieving crew and our heroine, Vin, and they achieved a pretty big victory at the end of book one. And now, as book two opens, they and their noble allies must face new dangers in the form of invading armies, untraceable spies in their inner circle, and a growing certainty that the world is still in the same grave danger that the Hero of Ages was supposed to have defeated a thousand years before.

Sanderson has done a pretty good job of maintaining sense of wonder, by delving more deeply both into mistborn abilities and into the history of the Hero of Ages and the Final Empire. As in the previous book, each chapter starts with an excerpt of writings from a thousand years prior when this chain of events first began. Unlike last time, however, the writings are more or less in order of the story they are telling; it was all I could do not to ignore the book and jump ahead to read the entire ancient record at once, and then come back. All of which to say: see? totally sense of wonder. The mood of the book is by turns ratcheting tension, romantic angst, a little bit of creeping dread, and occasional doses of intense action, all of which build toward a pretty explosive last hundred pages. I was out at dinner Tuesday night and just itched to read the last 20 pages instead of interacting with my companions. I didn’t, but probably only because Skwid was there to answer my minor spoiler and relieve the tension just enough to hold out until I got home.