WEDNESDAY REVIEW: Irenicon: Book 1 of the Wave Trilogy by Aidan Harte

Irenicon: Book 1 of the Wave Trilogy

By: Aidan Harte

Publisher: Jo Fletcher Books

Blurb:
The river Irenicon is a feat of ancient Concordian engineering. Blasted through the middle of Rasenna in 1347, using Wave technology, it divided the only city strong enough to defeat the Concordian Empire. But no one could have predicted the river would become sentient—and hostile. Sofia Scaligeri, the soon-to-be Contessa of Rasenna, has inherited a city tearing itself apart from the inside. And try as she might, she can see no way of stopping the culture of vendetta that has the city in its grasp. Until a Concordian engineer arrives to build a bridge over the Irenicon, clarifying everything: the feuding factions of Rasenna can either continue to fight each other or they can unite against their shared enemy. And they will surely need to stand together—for Concord is about to unleash the Wave again.

Review:
Irenicon is set an alternate history renaissance Italy where Rome was destroyed and the Concord Empire rules through its mastery of Science, which comes across as a cool mix of steampunk and alchemy. Although there is something of Christianity it’s very different as in this world as Herod succeeded in killing baby Christ and now Science holds preeminence above church and nobles, its  power embodied by the mysterious and powerful First, Second, and Third Apprentices.

The novel begins with a mysterious prologue done in the manner I enjoy, which is to say you’re a fly on the wall listening to powerful people whose relationships, judging from the dialogue, seem out of kilter with what you would expect. The people are doing something, in this case having a conversation and issuing directives, that you don’t have the context  to truly understand what’s going on though you can get a general idea, rather than the sort of prologue where the writer does prosaical gymnastics solely to keep you from figuring what’s happening.

We quickly move on to Sofia Contessa (Countess)  is few months  from inheriting the the title of Contessa (Countess) and rulership of the city-state of Rasenna. She is, like every fifteen year old, chafing under the restraints of her parental unit(s) in this case her foster father Doc, who is the power behind the scenes in Rasenna. Unlike most fifteen-year-olds she has trained to fight since she could walk in a style of martial arts that uses flags and is the preeminent fighter in the city.

I really-liked-borderline-loved Irenicon because pretty much everything but the action is subtle to the point where you could miss out on a lot if you are not looking, like James Enge’s Morlock novels. The depth is there if you look, otherwise it’s a light novel. On a side note the the attention paid to engineering was eerily reminiscent of nearly every one of K.J. Parker’s novels. The thing about Irenicon is that it is one of the novels I thoroughly enjoyed that I can understand how someone would not like it all. In the first half  the author does not include description in every scene, though there is a general description you have to fill in the rest with your imagination. There’s much more description in the second half, but that may be due to a change that I won’t reveal as it would be a spoiler. But looking at other reviews it seems most readers greatly preferred either the first or second half while I enjoyed both.

Now on to the odd stuff.

The first third of the Irenicon had me concerned because of two things. The first, which cleared itself up nicely, was that Sofia seemed to be just one of the several interesting characters, not the lead, but as the novel went on she became more prominent until she was dominating the book, and the time spent with the other characters added the depth of understanding needed to explain their actions later in the novel.

The second thing was downright eerie. Other than Sofia, to the best of my recollection in the first third of the novel, there was only one other female in one scene, and this is in a large city. And I don’t mean there were just no other major female characters, nor do I mean there were merely no major or secondary female characters. I don’t even mean the only females were the requisite tavern wenches/prostitutes/sisters/mothers/daughters props. I mean other than Sofia and one other woman in one scene there were no women. Not even a passing mention of a female as I recall. It became so prominent in my mind that I was wondering if the Wave had done something to them all. And since there was not talk or referenc to amke it a culture where the women were repressed and seperated and not one character had a gender based issue with Sofia it was all the more strange. Anyway, a few more female characters pop us as we go along but not many. Good news those few and Sofia more than capably carried the weight of their entire gender in my opinion.

I am giving Irenicon a high recommendation with the caveat that you should download and read the free sample before deciding to  take the plunge because this novel strikes me as one the relies heavily on the personal taste of the reader. Also, just enjoying the sample won't mean you'll enjoy the second half of the as it takes  a significant change of tact in the middle.

Review by Carlyle Clark for Heroines of Fantasy

Finding the Magic Bullet

Eric here. Regular readers of Heroines of Fantasy have probably been wondering just where the hell I've been, since my "regular contributor" status was revealed on the HoF About page long ago. Right?

Well, here I am, and I'm about to get all meta on your collective behinds. Because I'm a writer...with nothing to write about.

No, not fiction. That I've got plenty of, and I'm way behind.

But blogging and writing about...writing? Much harder.

I used to be addicted, utterly and completely, to reading about writing. I remember in college, when I had a free hour or so, heading into the school library, up in to the stacks on the top floor and finding bound copies of years old issues of Writers' Digest magazine. I'd sit at a privacy carrel with them until I was out of time, soaking in advice and tips I don't follow because I can't remember any of it.

(I did get my book KALI: THE GHOSTING OF SEPULCHER BAY personally critiqued at a WorldCon years later by WD fiction columnist Nancy Kress though. That was cool. But I digress. Probably not for the last time.)

The problem was, I was looking for a magic bullet. I was lazy. I wanted a way to find a way to make writing not only less work, but instantly successful. I'm not saying I wanted that over-night fame and fortune of authorship because I spent my collegiate years toiling in food service...but I'm also saying I ruined a lot of neckties as a dining hall supervisor by carrying giant pots of soup out to ungrateful undergrads. So you do the math.

The problem with the magic bullet is, it's not there. It took me a long time to really and truly believe that. The world loves an overnight success story and I thought I'd be one—if I could just find the secret before I put in the work.

Guess how much writing I got done?

It wasn't even so much that I didn't get much done—I was too lazy to work at it at all until, finally, in my mid-30s, the incessant nattering voices in the back of my head became too much. I had to get all the thinks out of my think-meat and converted into readable pixels worthy (perhaps) of being ink on paper.

What I'm trying to say is: if you've got voices telling you to write, do it. Now. Don't wait. It doesn't matter what age you're at, from 15 to 95, start getting it down. (I'll excuse the 1- to 14-year-olds that lack for skills and training; anyone greater than 95, you've earned your time in the La-Z-Boy gumming prunes to your heart's content. Seriously. I already envy you.) The skills to tell a story only come with practice. Writing was something I almost gave up on without really trying. Coming back to it when I did meant I was better than I probably would have been had I started younger... but I was nowhere near close to as good as I could have been, had I been writing when I was ingesting dusty, musty WD issues. Not to mention all the dust and must I ingested.

What does that have to do with me writing about writing and being a writer? I just feel like...it's all been done! What's there to say that isn't already covered in WD or a thousand other places? All I can do is point you toward your own keyboard and hope you'll join those of us on this silly enterprise we call "being writerly" [NOTE: No one calls it that.]

Because there is no magic bullet, no spell for success, no way to instantly achieve what you want.

But if you try sometimes, you just might find... you get to succeed.

My apologies to the Rolling Stones.


ERIC GRIFFITH is the author of BETA TEST from Hadley Rille Books and KALI:THE GHOSTING OF SEPULCHER BAY. He's currently writing about homeless people with super powers. Visit Eric at http://egriffith.info.

Music As Time Travel...

In my last two posts, I focused on the myth and reality of medieval women.  Now I’m going to change tack completely, and talk about music, and how useful it is as a way of world-building, particularly when writing historical fiction. 

Some of you won’t like listening to anything while either reading or writing.  But music has always been an integral part of my life, so I’m one of these people who often associates a certain track with a certain scene, or a certain character. If I’m working on something, I’ll quite happily play the same track over and over again to get the vibe right until I’m done.  This drives my husband batty, of course!

When I’m writing historical fiction, the first step I take in thinking my way into the minds of my characters is to listen to the music that would have accompanied their lives.  This was particularly appropriate for John Sempill, for we know that the ‘real’ John Sempill had an interest in music.  Documentary sources tell us that there was a harper named John Haislet amongst his retinue, who performed before King James IV at Ellestoun in 1504 (William Haislet, who has a strong supporting role in ‘Fire & Sword’, is his hypothetical father, though sadly in reality we know virtually nothing about John Haislet's life and background).

The Collegiate Church of Castle Semple, Near Lochwinnoch

Sempill also founded a school for choristers – a ‘sang school’, in the Scots parlance – at the Collegiate Church of Castle Semple near Lochwinnoch.   The founding charter even tells us something about the boys’ training: we know that in addition to basic schooling in literacy and numeracy, they learned a new form of singing  called ‘prick song’.  No puerile sniggers please – this is the late medieval term for polyphony, where multiple lines are sung simultaneously by the vocalists. It was still fairly new and avant garde in the late 1400s/early 1500s, but Sempill seems to have been eager to promote it.  

What did it sound like?  Well, thankfully, we can still hear the same music that John Sempill would have been familiar with all those centuries ago.  Collections of Scots lute music dating back to the early 1600s still survive, for example, and while these originate from a later historical context, many are ‘traditional’ airs which had much earlier origins.  

But it’s in the realms of religious choral music that later medieval Scotland really excelled. Our foremost figure was the composer of polyphonic music, Robert Carver (1485-1568), who can to this day arguably claim the top spot as Scotland’s most talented composer. Some of his music survived the cultural purges  of the Reformation so we can still hear it performed by groups such as Scottish early music ensemble ‘Capella Nova.'

James IV was an enthusiastic patron of Carver's work, so much so that we even know which music was played at specific events in his life. We can hear both the mass that was sung before the ill-fated departure of the Scots army for the fatal field at Flodden, and the mass which was performed in its aftermath just a few weeks later when the shattered remnants of the Scots government (including, no doubt Hugh Montgomerie) gathered in Edinburgh for the coronation of the infant King James V. You can hear it performed here:

With such a rich musical heritage to accompany my writing, you’d think I’d listen to nothing else, wouldn’t you?  That’s not true – I’m writing a novel aimed for modern audiences which uses contemporary dialogue, and besides, I’m a child of my own time. So I’m afraid that you’ll usually find me listening to indie rock music as I batter away at my keyboard.  But every so often, when I need some extra inspiration, I’ll put on some Robert Carver, and suddenly, I find myself transported back into another world!

Wednesday Review: The Reluctant Prophet

Title: The Reluctant Prophet
Author: Gillian O’Rourke
Publisher: Kristell Ink

Publication date: 2013
Genre: Fantasy
Price: Kindle $4.99, Paperback $15.29
Where to purchase: Amazon
Reviewer: Cybelle Greenlaw

Book description:
There's none so blind as she who can see . . . Esther is blessed, and cursed, with a rare gift: the ability to see the fates of those around her. But when she escapes her peasant upbringing to become a priestess of the Order, she begins to realise how valuable her ability is among the power-hungry nobility, and what they are willing to do to possess it. Haunted by the dark man of her father's warnings, and unable to see her own destiny, Esther is betrayed by those sworn to protect her. With eyes newly open to the harsh realities of her world, she embarks on a path that diverges from the plan the Gods have laid out. Now she must choose between sacrificing her own heart's blood, and risking a future that will turn the lands against each other in bloody war. The Reluctant Prophet is the story of one woman who holds the fate of the world in her hands, when all she wishes for is a glimpse of her own happiness.

Hi, Cybelle here again. This week I read Gillian O'Rourke's The Reluctant Prophet. The story is told in the first person by Esther, a young priestess who struggles with her prophetic gift and faith. The book is well-written overall and very engaging. O'Rourke creates vivid descriptions of the places in Esther's world, and the supporting characters are believable. It is a page turner, but I found certain elements of the book problematic.

The setting is a fantastic, medieval world, where most people worship a trinity of gods, Tyrus, Lo and Era, who are depicted with animal heads and can be male or female. Esther sees them all as female, basically ranging in age from young woman/warrior to crone. The priestesses are initiated through a series of painful ordeals and are generally held in high-esteem, but elite members of the Order despise Esther's peasant origins and find ways of abusing her and her gift. For me, the religion and religious order O'Rourke creates are the least credible aspects of the story. Generally, when a culture worships gods with animal characteristics (or changing sexual identity), it has clear reasons for doing so. Animals and their attributes did not feature prominently in the story, and I was left wondering what was so special about wolves, cats and owls that the deities would be represented in those forms. Going beyond the physical characteristics of the gods, the religious beliefs of the people seemed exceptionally Catholic, and the abuses perpetrated by corrupt members of the Order clearly reflected current criticism of the church. At certain points, I felt like I was reading a subtle criticism of the Church.

Regarding style, there were also a few problems. Much of Esther's internal dialog was mirrored in later action/conversation, which slowed the pace a little. Occasionally, in sections of dialog, it was difficult to tell who was speaking. This was partially because some of the characters had similar speech patterns, but a few dialog tags would have been helpful, too.

Despite my criticism, this book was an interesting read, and I think it would be especially popular with teens. The main characters are young, vibrant, and easy to love, and their struggles are common to many.

When your favorite author disappoints you...

Hi folks, Mark here with a few thoughts on disappointment.

One of the ways I keep myself sane during the busy months of the year is to assemble a pile of books in a to be read file and work through them one at a time. I would carve out moments during the school terms to get my mind away from papers and re-teaching similar lit units all the time by wandering in the realms of others.

This practice helped me discover a number of my favorite authors over the years.  These writers have become my go to group when I really need something special.  Every six months I would find a way into a bookstore and make my circuit of the shelves looking for the latest crop.  I rarely failed to find at least one among the throng with a new book out.  I think my best day came around a decade ago when I walked out broke but the proud possessor of no less than eight expansive, page-turner epics. Glorious. Distracting. Instructive. That haul kept me occupied through the bulk of the school year and on into the summer. AND, there wasn't a stinker in the lot.  As a result of similar success over the years, I feel I have become a loyal reader.  Such is the life of the reading geek, I guess.

Last week I ran into my first dud in quite awhile, and the experience has me wondering how best to respond when a favorite author disappoints me. By disappointment I mean real disgust in multiple areas: bad plotting, clunky delivery, muddled pov, flat language, cardboard, cardboard and more cardboard.

I'm not going to name the author of this current stinker because I have enjoyed their work for many years. The novel in question is an historical fiction set in dark ages, post-roman Britain. The premise held such promise, and this writer has made a career out of the period in a slew of great stories.

But this one. No. On so many levels. I'm barely halfway through, and I'm ready to capitulate. What galls me the most about this effort are the frequent shifts in point of view often in the same scene and, all too frequently, IN THE SAME PARAGRAPH. At times I find myself gawking at pages  rather than reading them. I get tossed out of the story altogether. I find I don't care much about the author's characters. There's no glammour. I've come to the conclusion ambivalence might be the worst thing a writer could engender in their audience. To paraphrase Melville: "Call me, Ambivalence."

I want to shake the author by the ears. I want to excoriate their editor for allowing such turgid stuff to go to print. Did the publishing house just figure the name alone would recoup printing costs? What about the cost to the art? What about the damage done to the author's reputation? I sense a conspiracy theory screenplay in the making here.

What I do not want to do is give up on the writer. I will forgive this one time, and I hope any of my readers would grant me the same grace. Heck, maybe they already have.

And yet there is instruction here. My current reaction reminds me that the art demands our utmost attention. Silly errors create not just disappointment but potential rebellion. This current fail by one of my favorite authors won't cost them my loyalty, but I expect to think twice before reaching for their next effort.

What do you do when a treasured writer disappoints you?

Mark Nelson