Malazan Re-Read Series: Steven Erikson, Memories of Ice

For a book that I recently described as perhaps my favorite of the Malazan Series, it took me several more days than usual to complete a re-read of the third book, Memories of Ice.  This is curious, as it was not that I was too busy (I did finish reading another half-dozen or so books this past weekend) nor that I was disinclined to read the book (I would read for 15-20 minutes some days, between other reads), but rather that it seems that in re-reading this book for the first time in five years, I felt as though I were simultaneously reading each of the last four novels that Erikson has written in this series.

When I first read this book in October 2002, I was impressed with the thematic elements that Erikson introduces in this work.  In many ways, Memories of Ice feels like the "true" beginning to the series proper, as Gardens of the Moon and Deadhouse Gates began to seem to be little more than prologues to the action that unfolded within this volume.  The main antagonist for this series, the Crippled God, makes his first true appearance in this volume, after passing mentions in the first two volumes.  Incidents from the first two books (the second occurring near-simultaneously with this novel) have their importance amplified here.  From the menacing threat of the Pannion Seer to the mystery surrounding a Tiste Edur corpse and the hints of their rise to power, Memories of Ice lies at the heart of what follows afterward in the Malazan series, for good or for ill.

The structure of this novel differs in several respects from the first two.  Although each had their moments of comedy (Kruppe, Iskaral Pust), it is here where Erikson reveals more fully a wide range of comic styles, not all of which I found to be successful.  From the necromancers Bauchelain and Korbal Brauch (who star in their own series of novellas, which I will re-read/review after the main series) and the black humor involved with them to the ludicrous send-up of artists (and the frog Critic), there is much more levity present here to balance out the heavy scenes that occur later in the novel.  For the most part, these lighter scenes fulfilled their purposes, but at times it just seemed to be a bit too much.  Reflecting  back on the past few Malazan novels that I had re-read for the first time in 2007-2009, many of the complaints I had about their structures perhaps could be tied back to the patterns of sometimes-forced levity and numerous subplots that emerged here in Memories of Ice.  But this is only a suspicion; my opinions of the latter novels may improve when I re-read them, after all.

I alluded to certain thematic issues in this novel that appealed to me.  What I noticed the first time (and still do, upon my fourth read of this volume) is the level of compassion that is directed toward former/current foes in this novel.  Erikson easily could have portrayed the Pannion Seer and the cannibalistic Tenescrowi in broad black strokes, as that would have been acceptable for a war-related novel.  But he chose not to do this and those choices I have suspected for a long time will have repercussions that will be seen in the series' conclusion.  After all, why introduce a character such as Itkovian and make such an issue out of the ability of a man to embrace the pains and sorrows of disparate peoples and to do a sort of quasi-absolution of their sins and shortcomings?  There were several powerful scenes involving this, scenes that I am unaccustomed to seeing in an epic fantasy series and I believe my continuing interest in the series depends strongly upon the hope that there will be similar emotionally-moving scenes such as the ones depicted in this novel.

But despite these several moving passages, the narrative flow to this novel was all over the place.  There were times where I wondered why the pace had slowed to a glacial level and if Erikson felt constrained to introduce so many plot foreshadowings and subplots just to convey a sense that the war against the Pannion Seer was merely a microcosm of a coming apocalyptic struggle.  Then toward the end, it felt as if too much was being crammed into two very lengthy chapters spanning most of the final 150 pages.  This lurching pace and the resulting herky-jerkiness of the characterizations felt rough, as if Erikson had not polished the story enough, something that I seem to recall being an increasing problem later on in the series.

However, despite these grave concerns about how the narrative was structured and executed, I enjoyed what I read for the most part.  Erikson threw enough elements on the canvas that enough good elements remained visible to overshadow the weaker points in the narrative.  It was akin to seeing a car spinning out on the interstate and correcting itself just before crossing the median into oncoming traffic (I actually had this happen to me five years ago, thus the vivid analogy that came to mind).  Somehow, despite the flaws and wrong steps, things come together in the end and it all works out without the narrative train jumping the rails completely.  Might not be the best of stories to read from a technical standpoint, but the thematic elements contained within perhaps will appeal to quite a few people trying to figure just what it is about this series that appeals to others.  Now onward to the fourth volume, House of Chains, which hopefully won't take parts of five days to read.