The OF Blog

Thursday, April 15, 2010

WoT Ten Years Later: Robert Jordan, The Eye of the World

The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend.  Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again.  In one Age, called the Third Age by some, an Age yet to come, an Age long past, a wind rose in the Mountains of Mist. The wind was not the beginning.  There are neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time.  But it was a beginning. (p. 1)
For tens of millions of readers, the above passage will be quite familiar.  For the past twenty years, Robert Jordan's The Wheel of Time series has been one of the most popular epic fantasy series to be released, with sales of well over forty million copies for the twelve main volumes, one novel-length prequel, and a related encyclopedia/artbook.  It is a series that has legions of devoted fans, tens of thousands of whom have created websites, argued passionately (and some might wonder, pointlessly?) over various minutiae found within this sprawling multi-volume work, and several hundred at least who have named babies after characters or who have had tattoos of emblems found within its pages.  However, this series perhaps has drawn one of the largest anti-fan crowds in a subgenre that is littered with negativity and borderline psychotic outbursts directed toward those who do not share in the perpetrator's hatred for that series (or most any other series).  Various forums devoted to discussing epic fantasy series have seen thousands of threads over the years devoted to the question of whether or not Jordan was a "sellout" and to analyzing (sometimes focusing more on ad hominem comments than actual constructive criticism) just where the series jumped the shark and why.

I myself began reading the series in November 1997 as a way of relaxing my mind during the brutal written and oral exams for my MA in History.  I read the first seven volumes in paperback that year and proceeded to re-read them a few times over the next three years.  Read the eighth volume, The Path of Daggers, upon its October 1998 release and I began to wonder what was actually transpiring here.  Purchased the ninth volume, Winter's Heart, upon its November 2000 release and I was so disinterested by the time that I read it that I never read any of the first volumes since then and have read the latest three volumes only fairly recently (2006 for the tenth volume, which was read more so I could write a series of satirical posts rather than because I actually wanted to know what was transpiring there, and 2009 for the last two volumes, since I was receiving a review copy of the latest volume a week before the official review date).  While I was not a rabid detractor, I certainly was no fan of the author's prose, his characterizations, and my interest in the setting he created dissipated the more I considered the structure behind his constructed mythologies.

My interest in re-reading this series (or at least the first eleven volumes; I gave my copy of the last volume to an overseas friend of mine) was renewed by reading that author/critic Adam Roberts was doing a weekly review of the series on his personal blog, writing from the perspective of a first-time reader and not from that of a critic writing a formal review.  I found myself agreeing in places with his commentaries and in other places thinking that he might have overlooked something, which made me ask myself if I too might have forgotten things about the series that I enjoyed (and of course, things that I disliked) over the intervening ten years.  So I decided earlier this week to mix a re-reading of the WoT series with a planned re-read/review of the original Dune series in order to document any perceived shifts in my attitudes toward this series.

When I first read the series, I remember thinking that the first volume, The Eye of the World, was much better than the two volumes, The Great Hunt and The Dragon Reborn, that followed it.  But I also recalled being quite bored with the first third or so of this first novel, thinking that Jordan took too long to develop the situation and to launch the danger-filled, faster-paced narrative that dominates the final two-thirds of the novel.  In re-reading The Eye of the World, my opinions altered somewhat.

What I noticed about this first volume (and for full disclosure's sake, I should note that I had replaced my original paperback with the two-volume Starscape edition that had an extra introductory prologue) is that my half-remembered dislike for the author's prolixity was stronger.  This was especially true in the new "Ravens" prologue, which destroyed the power of the original prologue (now appearing as a second prologue), by shifting the focus away from the main three characters of EotW (Rand al'Thor, Perrin Aybara, Mat Cauthon) toward a then-secondary female character, Egwene.  While doubtless Jordan intended this new prologue to be a window into the soul of a future important character, for first-time readers and for those who want to focus on the narrative structure of EotW alone, this new twenty-four page prologue was plodding and ill-connected to the "Dragonmount" prologue and main narrative that followed.

However, it should be noted that even the first few chapters, which served mostly to introduce the three male characters (and especially Rand) and to create a rustic environment that would serve as a sharp contrast to the mysterious world out there, were on the whole quite dull and derivative of the early chapters of Tolkien's The Fellowship of the Ring.   But instead of Hobbits frolicking about and giving away presents on their birthdays before disappearing suddenly due to mysterious rings of invisibility, the villagers of Emond's Field are gathering to celebrate a quasi-Celtic festival of Bel Tine in spite of a magically-prolonged winter.  It should be noted here that this is the first of several clumsy alterations of various world myths and religious traditions to fit in with the wind blowing passage's hint of this world being a precursor and successor to our own "real" world.  Much to say about this later on in the review series, but for now, it should suffice to say that altering a few letters and trying to cram several disparate world beliefs/traditions into an imagined setting almost whole-cloth leads to several frustrating reading moments.

The prose is nothing to write home about here.  While Jordan perhaps could be commended for trying to instill even his "local color" characters with semblances of real personalities and depth, too often he resorts to repeating characteristics already noted a handful of pages earlier and in ways that seem to be creating and reinforcing stereotypes rather than using a more subtle, less verbose way of highlighting the distinct personalities of the villagers.  If memory serves, this lazy habit of repetition and stereotyping is repeated on a much larger scale in succeeding volumes.

The character interactions on the whole were pedestrian.  There was nothing offensive or off-putting about them, but at the same time, I failed to get a real sense, outside of melodramatic comments from one of the boys about their families and loved ones, that there were real, deep emotional bonds.  This is particularly true in the case of the very awkward interactions between Rand and his presumed fiancé, Egwene.  While doubtless Jordan wanted to make it clear that the two would not be partnered for long, there was very little sense of actual teenage emotional connection/horniness that is typical for adolescents between 16-19 years of age.  Things fare only slightly better between the three males. At least their sometimes ribald humor feels more natural and less forced than the strained interactions between males and females that take place in this novel.

The plot, derivative as it is not just of Tolkien, but also of writers such as Terry Brooks, actually is a strength in EotW.  Three youths discover that one of them, if not all three, may be a major threat to the imprisoned Dark One (Shai'tan, itself a play off of Shaitan/Satan).  A mysterious female Aes Sedai (read: wizard, magician) named Moiraine and her brooding, equally mysterious Warder Lan appear in the village just before the attack of the ersatz orcs, the trollocs and their eyeless humanoid leaders, the Myrdraal.  The boys have to flee, while all the while they are haunted by dark dreams sent by an evil entity that may or may not be the Dark One himself.  Egwene and another village young woman, the Wisdom (Healer) Nynaeve, also get entangled with this flight, not to mention a traveling gleeman (Bard) named Thom Merrilin.  There are mysteries and dubious motives surrounding these characters and the fleshing out of these does make for an entertaining read, especially after a decade-long absence.

The story boils down to a series of near-captures (and an actual temporary capture at one point) intermixed with a traveler's guide-like introduction to the lay of the lands (and their peoples) through which the young villagers and their guides transverse.  Narrative tension reminds high through these scenes and while Jordan adds nothing original to what is transpiring, it at least contains the feel of a fast-paced, familiar adventure read.  A minor quibble could be made about the speed in which the characters make from meeting in one city to reaching their new and final destination, but outside of that, The Eye of the World reads like a standard quest adventure.

Although it was difficult at times to shut out half-remembered connections to the latter volumes, on the whole, EotW was much easier to read as a quasi-standalone novel that contained a detailed introduction, some mildly interesting plot twists, and some semblance of a resolution at the end.  The annoying character tics were mostly manageable here, in large part because Jordan did not stop and dwell on particular side adventures for more than a handful of pages.  This stands in sharp contrast to what I remember of latter volumes.  The Eye of the World ultimately was at least as enjoyable of a reading experience (well, of the mostly mindless sort) as I remembered it being when I first read it in 1997.  However, the characterizations and prose already have me dreading what is to come, so it shall be interesting to see what my reactions are to the next two volumes (reviews will be up this weekend and/or early next week).  Mild recommendation, with several reservations, for those who may want to read this epic fantasy series for the first time.

Frank Herbert, Dune

"I must not fear.  Fear is the mind-killer.  Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.  I will face my fear.  I will permit it to pass over me and through me.  And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.  Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.  Only I will remain." (p. 8)

The Bene Gesserit Litany Against Fear is perhaps one of the most famous passages from a 20th century SF novel.  It certainly is a powerful truism and it is one of the things that people first associate with Frank Herbert's Dune.  Published in 1965, Dune was the first winner of the Nebula Award for Best Novel in 1966, in  addition to winning the Hugo Award that year as well.  I first read it and its five sequels in the Fall of 2001 and while I have not read the others since this, this is the third time total that I have read Dune and the first since April 2008.  It is always interesting to see how a reader's reaction to a text evolves over time.  Sometimes, the text "improves" with a re-reading (this happened when I re-read Moby Dick at 23 after hating it at 17) and sometimes the text seems to have more flaws than was the case on the initial read.  For Dune, it is a mixture of both.

Dune is one of the earlier "ecological" SF novels, predating the first Earth Day by five years.  As such, there is a powerful unspoken character, the planet Arrakis, who comes to dominate the narrative much more than any of the human protagonists.  Harsh, seemingly unyielding and full of dangers, Arrakis appears at first glance to be untameable, but ultimately it is the taming of this planet that drives much of the novel.  From the awesome Shai-Halud (or the huge sandworms) to the water-preserving stillsuits that the Fremen wear to the cataloging of the effects that the spice melange has on its users, Herbert develops a vividly-rendered desert environment that contains an aura of mystery and danger.  Arrakis indeed is by far the most realized and dynamic of the characters that appear in this novel.

The human conflicts, whether it be between the Houses of Atreides and Harkonnen, between the Emperor and the Landsraad or between the Fremen and the Harkonnen, are nowhere near as well-developed.  Despite the interesting choice of naming the name of Paul Muad'Dib after the mythological Greek house of Agamemnon, very little is made of this purported connection with Greek tragedy.  Perhaps Paul's father Leto I, fated it seems to die and with everyone expecting it, may seem at first to fit the tragic role, this is undercut by Herbert's sloppy narrative.

The characters in Dune rarely seem to be "human" in their thoughts, actions, or mistakes.  In large part, this is due to Herbert's unfortunate tendency to overuse internal monologues, with several scenes containing multiple characters, each of whom will be shown to say something, only to be followed with their internal monologue indicating whether or not "truth" was spoken.  Below is a scene where Duke Leto, his Bene Gesserit concubine Jessica, the water-shipper Bewt and the Imperial Planetologist Kynes interact:

"My Lord, the Duke, and I have other plans for our conservatory," Jessica said.  She smiled at Leto.  "We intend to keep it, certainly, but only to hold it in trust for the people of Arrakis.  It is our dream that someday the climate of Arrakis may be changed sufficiently to grow such plants anywhere in the open."

Bless her!  Leto thought.  Let our water-shipper chew on that.

"Your interest in water and weather control is obvious," the Duke said.  "I'd advise you to diversify your holdings.  One day, water will not be a precious commodity on Arrakis."

And he thought:  Hawat must redouble his efforts at infiltrating this Bewt's organization.  And we must start on stand-by water facilities at once.  No man is going to hold a club over my head!

Bewt nodded, the smile still on his face.  "A commendable dream, my Lord."  He withdrew a pace.

Leto's attention was caught by the expression on Kynes' face.  The man was staring at Jessica.  He appeared transfigured - like a man in love...or caught in a religious trance.

Kynes' thoughts were overwhelmed at last by the words of prophecy:  "And they shall share your most precious dream."  He spoke directly to Jessica:  "Do you bring the shortening of the way?"

"Ah, Dr. Kynes," the water-shipper said.  "You've come in from tramping around with your mobs of Fremen.  How gracious of you."

Kynes passed an unreadable glance acros Bewt, said:  "It is said in the desert that possession of water in great amount can inflict a man with fatal carelessness."

"They have many strange sayings in the desert," Bewt said, but his voice betrayed uneasiness.

Jessica crossed to Leto, slipped her hand under his arm to gain a moment in which to calm herself.  Kynes had said: "...the shortening of the way."  In the old tongue, the phrase translated as Kwisatz haderach."  The planetologist's odd question seemed to have gone unnoticed by the others, and now Kynes was bending over one of the consort women, listening to a low-voiced coquetry.

Kwisatz Haderach, Jessica thought.  Did our Missionaria Protectiva plant that legend here, too?  The thought fanned her secret hope for Paul.  He could be the Kwisatz Haderach.  He could be. (pp. 130-131)
Obviously, this scene is meant to convey much - Kynes coming to realize the goal of the Atreides, the pointing out of the other source of wealth on Arrakis, Jessica's hopes for her son Paul, and Leto's resistance to manipulation.  However, there just is not much "life" to this passage, nor is there in the majority of similar passages in the novel.  The characters are there, thought overwhelms action overmuch, and the end result is that there is a sense of staticity about the characters; they rarely show plausible character development.  They are little more than the background to the war for the environment.

There are other concerns that cropped up when reading this novel.  It is interesting how 45 years ago, women, even those of societies in the imaginary 200 centuries after our time, are little more than domestic help or are seen as vague threatening nunneries that seek to manipulate men.  Jessica and Chani are defined much more by whom they love (Leto, Paul) than by what they themselves accomplish.  While certainly not a topic that would have dominated SF talk as much back in the mid-1960s, Herbert's treatment of women certainly would raise eyebrows in the early 21st century.  His treatment of homosexuality is even more troublesome for the modern reader.  The only homosexual character that appears in this novel is the main villain, Baron Harkonnen and in one chilling passage, he requests that his Mentat, Pietr, send him a male youth that has been drugged, since he hates for him to be thrashing about. Herbert's implied connection between homosexuality and pedophilia certainly is troublesome at best, especially considering that modern studies have shown no correlation between sexual orientation and pedophilia.  Needless to say, popular attitudes about this sensitive topic have changed much in the intervening 45 years, which made that passage all the more odd to me.

However, these concerns, which I noticed much more on this re-read than I had during my initial 2001 read or my 2008 re-read, only dampen the effect of the novel.  Herbert's Arrakis is one of the more powerful settings that I have read in any fictional work and perhaps is one of the more fully-realized secondary-world creations.  Not just the complex interactions between desert and its organisms, but also how well Herbert mixes in religious faith and tradition with these interactions of humans and environment.  Although there were a few times where the symbiotic relationships seemed a bit too strained and unrealistic, on the whole, the novel as a whole works because of the sense that the "real" story was unfolding around the action involving the human groups.  It will be interesting to see if this strong environmental presence will be seen in the succeeding novels (my memory of those is faint, to be honest) or if the irritating narrative quirks mentioned above will overshadow any interesting developments.  Will note that I will wait to the second volume to discuss Herbert's concept of jihad.

On the whole, Dune is a very flawed novel that, despite its many flaws, is a very powerful read, especially for those readers intrigued by the idea of a fiction considering how environments can shape people and their beliefs.  Certainly, it has been a very influential novel, as evidenced by some minor elements present in the next series I shall review, Robert Jordan's The Wheel of Time series.  In many ways, its status as being one of the most influential American SF novels is justified; attention to how the human and environmental elements interact is done to a much larger scale here and perhaps served as a precursor to sweeping SF trilogies such as the Mars novels that Kim Stanley Robinson wrote in the 1990s.  This re-read served not only to strengthen my appreciation for the series, but also to make me more aware of how a novel can contain troubling flaws and yet still be a worthwhile read.  Highly recommended for most, with caveats noted in several paragraphs above.

On the subjectiveness of lists

One of the hazards of cataloging a collection is the actual handling of texts long neglected.  Recently, I found myself sorting through my non-fiction collection and picking up my copy of E.P. Thompson's Customs in Common.  Reading through the introduction, where Thompson echoes Peter Burke's observations on how "folklore" is in large part the projection of elite/upper class value judgments onto a purported mapping of popular culture/belief systems, made me think in part of a more recent book, Umberto Eco's The Vertigo of Lists (The Infinity of Lists in the US).

In that work, Eco discusses the various semiotic/semantic values assigned to various lists in Western European societies from the time of the ancient Greeks and Romans to the present.  There are lists ranking the gravity of sins, lists for types of beauty, and so forth.  But one thing popped into my mind as I reflected over what I recalled reading in both the Eco and Thompson books:  just how subjective the ranking and classification of preference (or customs, traditions, and other value systems) really is.

This musing dovetails nicely into an interesting little set of conversations that sprung up on a few blogs yesterday about the "value" of a new fantasy award, the Gemmell Awards.  I chose not to blog about these awards this year for several reasons, but it is interesting reading the thoughts posted first by James Long at Speculative Horizons and then rebuttals of sorts posted at Genre Reader and NextRead.  Take a moment to read each of these threads before continuing here.

Finished?  Want to know what I thought of the arguments presented by those three and the people commenting on their posts?  Hopeful that I'll bash the power of the PR machines that promote "popular" works?  Optimistic/fearful that I'll rip into other awards in the process?  Don't give a damn any which way?

The truth of the matter is that list-making of this nature is a very recent phenomenon in literature.  The oldest extant literary awards are barely a century old, compared to a written record that goes back over 4000 years.  The "need" to quantify subjective reading experiences (and perhaps to justify, if only to one's own self, one's own preferences) is perhaps related to that imperfect "mapping" that I mentioned in the first paragraph of this article.  Before one could argue just how "good" or "bad" awards like the Gemmell Awards are for a particular subset of literature (or for any subset of material culture, for that matter), it probably would be best to explore just why would it matter so.

What is at stake in determining who is eligible for such awards?  Is it related to a perceived need for certain categories to be "represented" more than they might be for other subjective list-making activities?  What assigned values are given to the selection process?  What biases and cultural prejudices are going to crop up in the evaluation process that leads to the creation of shortlists and then so-called "winners"?

To know where one stands on those questions is to know much better, it would seem, where one places the most value on the various attempts to quantify the subjective.  That being said, for myself, the highest value is assigned to viewing lists as windows into the mentalités of those, who over space, time, and cultures, have created such lists.  Understanding what influenced their list creations is just as important, if not more so, than trying to weigh just how "good" or "bad" such lists might be.  So perhaps instead of arguing the merits/deficiencies of awards such as the Gemmells, perhaps a closer look at the mechanics involved in establishing such awards and why people place such value (or discount the value others put on them) may be in order? 

Customs in common, indeed.

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

Changed my mind

Although I'll let the poll run its course, I think I'll go ahead and read/review both the Herbert and Jordan series in the coming days, as I'm finding it hard to read other work now, as I'm finding myself curious to see what my reactions will be to the two series.  Probably will alternate back and forth between the two, starting in the near future.

Hopefully, this way I can piss off and/or intrigue as many different people as possible.  And who knows, maybe absence will have made the heart grow fonder, or maybe I'll be reminded of what I don't want to read in a series.  Only time and experience (again) will tell, I suppose.

So yeah, there might be several more multi-volume works reviewed in this space in the coming months, along with newer and non-genre works.

Sunday, April 11, 2010

Thinking of doing a re-reading/review series after I finish my latest batch of reviews

Sometime in the next week to 10 days, I'm going to finish the remaining 8 books in my reading/reviewing queue (as well as writing reviews for a further six that have already been read).  I will have finished my crash studying for the mathematics portion of the GRE then as well and unless I get hired immediately for a position I'm applying tomorrow, I should still have at least a month's worth of "free time" to do another reading project.

This time, rather than devoting 2-3 weeks to writing an average of a review a day of books I had never before read, I am thinking about reviewing a series of books in a fashion similar to the reviews I wrote of Gene Wolfe's The Book of the New Sun in 2007 and of Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings and Peake's Gormenghast novels that I reviewed in the spring of 2009. Two series that I haven't read in ages (or at least the majority of the books) are Frank Herbert's six novels set in the Dune universe (I will not consider re-reading/reviewing any of the son's collaborative works) and Robert Jordan's ongoing The Wheel of Time novels (the first eleven novel; I've already reviewed the twelfth). 

Here are my experiences with each:  read all six of Herbert's books in 2001 but with the exception of reading the Spanish translation in 2004 and the first part of the Serbian translation (each for the first book) and a parallel reading of that translation with the English original in 2008, I have not read any of the other books since then.

For the WoT series:  I haven't read the first nine books since 2000, I read the 10th volume 3 years after its release (2006 read) and books 11 and 12 were read in late October 2009.

I imagine there would be a mixture of familiarity (which can breed contempt, ya know) and quasi-"newness" to these texts.  Curious also to see how my tastes have a reader have changed in the intervening 9-10 years.  But I probably will read only one of these in the next few months and since I feel charitable just this once, I'll let people vote on it, since I do still feel a bit of ambiguity toward both series and really am not all that invested in either one.  Oh, and since there doubtless will be negative comments as well as positive, if you're voting on the one you love the most, keep in mind that there might be a few more evisceration moments than is the norm here.  Then again, if you want to vote for the book that you think I'd rip apart the most, feel free to indulge in Schadenfreude.

Re-read will start a day or two after the poll closes late on the 18th and it may be only one book a week, or perhaps 2-3.  I will not read/review one a day, even if I am more than capable of doing so.  Let the voting begin (if it hasn't already begun as of the posting of this article)!

Saturday, April 10, 2010

Nerdgasm

If you want to lose any optimism that you have for the human race as a whole, be sure to read the hundreds and hundreds of comments to this Suvudu "cage match" between a character from the Wheel of Time series, Rand al'Thor, and a character from the Song of Ice and Fire series, Jaime Lannister.  The thought of dozens, if not hundreds of überfans (and possible untermenschen?) arguing at length and working themselves up to a frenzy over who'd win in a fictional "fight" between two imaginary, fictional characters is in turns amusing and causes for continued despair over the future of the human race or something.

I did add a suggestion somewhere in the very early hours of the 9th:  William Shatner and Danny Bonaduce would have made for a much more entertaining "cage match," not the least because the two are actual, living, breathing human beings who contain more real awesomeness in a belch than any fictional creation could maintain.  Not that I'd pay to watch Shatner and Bonaduce fight (although I seem to recall Bonaduce and Donnie Osmond boxing once), but rather that it'd be more worthy of attention that countless hours spent arguing about what fictional character would win under which set of applicable imaginary, ridiculous rules. 

And yes, I'm grouchy.  Think I'll take a nap now and sleep off the curmudgeonly attitude...

Comparing my Best of 2009 list with several award finalist announced recently

Now that several of the more interesting awards (with several more to follow in the next couple of months) have announced their shortlists I thought I'd compare the books I chose for my overall Best of 2009 with a few of the more prominent awards out there:

1.  Jeff VanderMeer, Finch (Nebula finalist)

2.   A.S. Byatt, The Children's Book (finalist last year for the Man Booker Prize)

3.Terrence Holt, In the Valley of the Kings

4. Caitlín Kiernan, The Red Tree

5. Brian Evenson, Last Days (American Library Association RUSA 2010 award for best horror)


Books 6-25, in no particular order


Shaun Tan, Tales from Outer Suburbia

Dan Simmons, Drood

Jonathan Littell, The Kindly Ones

Zoran Zivković, The Bridge

Joe Kelly and JM Ken Nimura, I Kill Giants

Ildefonso Falcones, La mano de Fátima

Lev Grossman, The Magicians

Jeff Lemire, Essex County

Michael Ajvaz, The Other City

Robert Holdstock, Avilion

Daniel Abraham, The Price of Spring

Dave Eggers, Zeitoun (Entertainment Weekly Best of Decade list)

David Mazzucchelli, Asterios Polyp (Eisner Award; 4 nominations; LA Times Book Prize nominee for graphic novel)

Dave Eggers, The Wild Things

Cherie Priest, Boneshaker (Hugo finalist; Nebula finalist)

Jesse Bullington, The Sad Tale of the Brothers Grossbart (Gemmell finalist for newcomer)

Jonathan Lethem, Chronic City (NY Times 10 Best Books of 2009)

Paul Auster, Invisible

Colum McCann, Let the Great World Spin (2009 National Book Award winner)

Hilary Mantel, Wolf Hall (2009 Man Booker Prize Winner)


I suspect I'm overlooking a few, as I'm only doing the most cursory of searches right now, but I suspect books like the Holt and Kiernan will garner some award nominations in the very near future and I know the French original of Littell's work won a major award in France in 2006. 

I wonder how this list did compared to others developed by fellow bloggers.
 
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