When this debut novel by Brian McClellan first hit shelves several years ago, it had loads of hype. Everyone seemedOriginally reviewed at Bookwraiths.
When this debut novel by Brian McClellan first hit shelves several years ago, it had loads of hype. Everyone seemed to be raving about how creative it was, how amazing the powder mages were, and how cool the whole flintlock fantasy setting was. And because of all that great word-of-mouth, I . . .stayed away from Promise of Blood like the plague.
Might sound strange, I know, but I did have a good reason: I never seem to like hyped books. Not sure why, but we do not ever seem to hit it off. So I decided to wait and see on the series.
Finally, though, I decided to take the plunge, and now I’m sorry I waited so long, because I absolutely loved this book!
Promise of Blood is a flintlock fantasy revelation. A splendid marriage of fantasy magic and French Revolution Era science. A place where guns and spells via for control. A world where deadly combat, explosive sorcery, godly intervention, political revolution, and personal tragedies rule the day. Simply put, this is damn good stuff here!
As the cover of the book declares, “The age of Kings is dead … and I have killed it.” And Promise of Blood begins with the bloody coup led by Field Marshall Tamas succeeding. Now, though, the difficult part starts, as he tries to hold the diverse members of his rebellion together, gather additional allies, and put together a new government. All this while trying to stave off war with Adro’s neighbors, whose royalists view Tamas’s actions as not only dangerous but blasphemy against the god Kresimir: He who legend says created the nine kingdoms, set up the rule of kings, and swore to destroy anyone who dared to disturb this divinely created system of rule .
Quickly, Mr. McClellan adds into this explosive mix Tamas’s returning son Taniel “Two Shot.” This prodigy (and prodigal) child having been in the “new world” fighting in a rebellion against the hated Kez. To say Taniel has “daddy” issues is putting it lightly; he is constantly craving and demanding respect, which his father seems unwilling or unable to give. When you add to this a certain addiction Taniel brings home with him, it gels into quite the wonderful plot, as Tamas and his son dance around one another throughout.
Then there is the mystery, because we have to have one really. A retired police inspector being drawn into the deathly political machinations of the nine kingdoms, as Field Marshall Tamas assigns him a task; one he doesn’t know if he is up to, especially when powerful figures from the underworld take notice.
There are so many great things about this novel, I really find it hard to only name one or two. Honestly, all the different aspects of the story blend together so well, so completely, it is difficult to separate them. They really belong together. Each supporting the other, making the story better for their inclusion. The whole greater than the individual parts. But since I always try to shine the spotlight on my favorite things about a book, I’ll give it my best attempt here too.
First, the flintlock fantasy setting, which is so similar to French Revolution Era Europe, sucked me in. Since I’m a huge history lover and consumer of alternate history fiction, it was probably inevitable that I would adore this world, but I have to give credit to Mr. McClellan’s brilliant world building. He did an amazing job molding Adro and its world into a doppleganger of real world France, then turned it on its head with powder mages, magical cabals, and gods. The place is absolutely amazing.
Second, those powder mages and their magical talent. I won’t bore everyone with my talk of how this is the most interesting magical system since Brandon Sanderson’s Allomancy, because I know everything about these super powered gunpowder snorters has already been said before. What I do wonder is how none of us thought of such a simple yet freaking amazing idea?
Third, Mr. McClellan brought these characters to life. Each person had good and bad qualities; they would do amazing things before turning around and being petty or ridiculously judgmental. One minute, I’d wish for them to succeed, then I’d want them to fail. Yes, that includes Tamas or Taniel. Both of these guys had moments where I desperately wanted to slap some sense into them, lecture them on what idiots they were being. And that is when I knew all these people were now real to me, because those are exactly the types of reactions I have to real life people every day.
Lastly, I loved the shifting points of view. From Tamas to Taniel to all the others, Mr. McClellan kept me popping from one head to another, experiencing all the dramatic events through different eyes, from totally unique perspective; this bringing the whole rebellion into focus for me, allowing me to experience it outside of just Tamas’s narrow viewpoint, which made it much more epic in scope. Plus, I not only heard our main characters justifications for their behavior, but witness how they themselves truly behaved. Quickly, I was able to see them not as divinely inspired heroes, but as real people doing the best they could (and sometimes failing miserably) in dramatic and desperate circumstances.
As for any criticisms, they would all be personal dislikes of this character or that, this behavior or that, or this decision or that. Nothing related to Mr. McClellan’s writing at all, but rather my personal feelings regarding how I would like to believe I’d behave in similar circumstances and how my “heroes” did not live up to my expectations.
Not very often do I give five stars to novels as I have Promise of Blood. Perhaps it was merely a case of the right book at the right time for me, but I really believe it is more than that. Rather this debut novel by Brian McClellan reminds me of a house remodel. Here he has taken a standard fantasy story, stripped away the usual environment and classic elements (medieval Europe and whatnot) then rebuilt a flintlock fantasy upon its sturdy frame. Yeah, sure, underneath this is still an old school fantasy, but damn, it is so cool and fresh looking who would ever believe it isn’t brand new....more
Traitor’s Blade was a novel that took me by surprise. Yes, it sounded interesting, but I never expected to lOriginally reviewed at Bookwraiths Reviews
Traitor’s Blade was a novel that took me by surprise. Yes, it sounded interesting, but I never expected to love Sebastien de Castell’s mixture of Three Musketeers-esque swashbuckling fun and Game of Throne-like gritty realism as much as I did. It really was one of the best books of 2014.
Flash forward to 2015. Knight’s Shadow is being released. Yes, I’m overwhelming anxious to get my hands on it, but I’m apprehensive as well. I mean, can the author catch lightning in a bottle twice? Can he find a way to include all those great elements from book one, yet minimizing the less stellar ones – like the constant Falcio flashbacks?
Well, after finishing the novel, I can honestly declare that my doubts were unfounded. Not only did Sebastien de Castell meet my wildest expectations, but exceeded them by far, and by doing so set a ridiculously high standard for all books that follow. Knight’s Shadow is truly a masterpiece of storytelling; one that I hereby declare “THE BEST FANTASY NOVEL OF 2015!”
The tale itself picks up shortly after book one’s ending, but does so in a most fascinating way; our hero Falcio val Mond, swordsman extraordinaire and First Cantor of the Greatcoats, finding himself paralyzed. A state he endures every morning. Poison administered by his vilest enemy the cause. But Falcio must overcome, because time is running out to place Aline securely on the throne, and to accomplish this, he has to find a way to persuade the hated Dukes of the land to support her cause.
At this point, Knight’s Shadow seems content to be a straight forward political story. One that included enough hilarious scenes with Falcio, Kest, and Brasti in full swashbuckling mode to be entertaining, but did not reach for anything other than a credible retelling of book one. But then something happened: Sebastien de Castell pulled the proverbial rug out from under me, revealing a devious plot that might involve the most heinous participation by the Greatcoats themselves, leaving the poisoned Falcio, in his loyal naivete, frantically trying to discover the truth before he dies!
Wow! I hadn’t experienced such a twisted plot line since I first read Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire many years ago. And this was merely the beginning of the surprises, as Knight’s Shadow jetted into the stratosphere, keeping me turning the pages, as I desperately tried to discover the fate of Falcio and all the other spectacular characters.
That brings up one of the stellar improvements in this book from Traitor’s Blade: the characters development. While Kest, Brasti, Aline, Valiana, and all the rest had their moments in book one, here they come into their own. The joker Brasti, who never seemed serious, displaying an unexpected depth of character, as he deals with the utmost despair and devastation. Kest, the Saint of Swords, struggling to balance his devotion to Falcio and his fellow Greatcoats with his desire to seek out opponents worthy of his time. Aline desiring a normal life away from the Dukes and the deadly machinations of the land, but choosing to forego her own personal happiness to try to help others. Valiana, the spoiled noble turned peasant, who slowly evolves from a hopeless wretch into a woman who is willing to change herself and lay down her own life for a cause she deems right. And Darriana, who is revealed late in the story but plays such a pivotal role in its resolution.
Another area where this installment of Greatcoats excels is in the world building. We find out more about the history of the Greatcoats, the true story of their beloved king, and who the legendary Dashini are. Conflicts that were mentioned in broad terms before, filtered through Falcio’s naive eyes, are now show in all their tangled complexity. Hidden motives, vile betrayals, and devious machinations layered one upon the other until every absolute truth of this world is turned upside down, contorted into amazing new directions that never fail to surprise.
Mixing swashbuckling fun with twisted Martin-esque grimness and set in an amazing world, Knight’s Shadow is an absolute triumph. Creative, brilliant, twisted, emotional, and unforgettable, every one of those labels can be fairly assigned to this novel. “THE BEST BOOK OF 2015!” I declared earlier, and I stand by that pronouncement. Now, all I have to do is patiently wait for book three to be published.
I received this book from Jo Fletcher Publishing and Netgalley in exchange for a fair and honest review. I’d like to thank both of them for allowing me to receive this review copy and inform everyone that the review you have read is my opinion alone.
When I finished Veil of the Deserters, I declared loudly on Goodreads "Damn that was good!", going on to describe Originally reviewed at Bookwraiths.
When I finished Veil of the Deserters, I declared loudly on Goodreads "Damn that was good!", going on to describe it as “one of the best fantasy novels I've read in a quite a while.” And after a few weeks to mull over my initial reaction, not only do I stand by those words but confidently anoint this book the best fantasy I’ve read this year. So let me explain why you should get on board this fanboy train and start loving Bloodsounder’s Arc too.
In book one Scourge of the Betrayer, Mr. Salyards introduces his readers to the young, scribe Arki, who accepts a commission to record the exploits of a group of foreign soldiers. He believes it will be a break from his dull life chronicling self-aggrandizing merchants and petty noblemen, but he might not have known everything he was getting into, quickly finding himself neck deep in secret, political intrigue. Plus, his employer, Captain Braylar Killcoin, seems to be possessed by a cursed flail that bombards him with the stolen memories of those he slays in battle. (Not that Arki is complaining out loud about false advertising or anything.)
From this unique “embedded journalist” beginning, Scourge goes on to weave a textured, realistic, and complex tale of Arki trying to survive in this brutal world of war and intrigue. Quickly, he begins to become desensitized to the violence around him (though he isn’t comfortable with it) and is forced to acknowledge the brutal pragmatism of many of the heinous deeds Captain Braylar and his soldiers practice routinely. And through the simple process of not dying and not betraying his wary employers, he gradually is taken into the inner circle of the Syldoon warriors; something that finally allows him (and the readers of Scourge) to start to understand all the things going on in the story.
Now, I realize some readers were put off by book one due to the slow developing story. (Even Mr. Salyards has acknowledged in interviews that he understands this criticism of Scourge.) But where book one laid the foundation for Arki and Captain Killcoin’s tale, Veil of the Deserters unleashes it in its full glory.
The plot and character revelations come fast and furious in book two. We learn more about Captain Braylar and his mysterious flail; more about the personalities and history of the Syldoon warriors surrounding Arki; and more about the immediate schemes and the long term ones that have lead these elite warrior to spend years away from their northern home.
Deeper world building. Where there were merely a few brief glimpses of this interesting fantasy world in Scourge, here there is so much more revelations about its nations, their history, the mysterious Godveil, the world before the Deserter gods abandoned mankind, and Captain Braylar’s cursed flail’s role in it all. Each piece of lore fitting seamlessly with the next until a vibrant, living world slowly begins to grow before a reader’s eyes.
Realist battles continue – only they are bigger and more frequent. And when I say realistic that is what I mean. These are not Hollywood movie fights, where the hero kills twenty people without a scratch and without getting one hair out of place. Nope, Mr. Salyards carefully crafts well-thought-out and organic fights, where armor matters, numbers count, and the realities of brutal men hacking at one another with sharp edge instruments of death are not glossed over. Not to say that Veil of the Deserters is a gorefest, because Mr. Salyards doesn’t overdo the blood and guts, but rather that he shows the realities of war in a medieval-type setting. People die hideous deaths. Those that survive may be horribly wounded or maimed. And those that escape with their life are scarred by the experience of dealing death and find themselves grieving over their own dead.
Creepy magic users. In Scourge the magic was rather sparse throughout and spoken of in whispers by everyone, but in Veil the Memoridon make an early appearance and are major players in the whole book. And somehow, Mr. Salyards is able to reveal enough about the memory witches to make them understandable but not totally stripping them of their mystery and inherent creepiness.
Kickass female character. While this is a testosterone driven series, Captain Killcoin’s sister Soffjian is introduced and holds her own against all of the brutal Syldoon warriors – instilling instant fear in all but the strongest men. Plus, she is a Memoridan, which only makes her that much more interesting.
Syldoon political machinations. Oh, yeah, readers get to go back to the capital city of the Syldoon Empire, experiencing all the brutal scheming of the warrior elite of the world, and through this change of scenery, Mr. Salyards sets up book three of the series, which looks to be a great one.
So after hearing all the great things about Veil of the Deserters and Bloodsounder’s Arc, why are you still reading this review? Go buy book one, sit down for a nice, intense read, get the world and the characters in your mind, then plunge into Veil where the story catches fire. Look forward to talking to all of you after we read book three next year! (Next year, right, Mr. Salyards?)
The publisher and the author provided this book to me for free in return for an honest review. The review above was not paid for or influenced in any way by any person, entity or organization, but is my own personal opinions. ...more
Winter of 1983. I was a full-grown and mature thirteen (13) year old. That is what I believed anyway. By this point, I had put all the things of childWinter of 1983. I was a full-grown and mature thirteen (13) year old. That is what I believed anyway. By this point, I had put all the things of childhood behind me - even my beloved D&D mostly - to focus on grown up things: sports, music, girls, and cars. Not necessarily in that order. This meant the days of me sitting around reading comics was over. Forever! Sure, I still ran an eye over the comic rack at the local gas station or the bookstore at the mall, but other than just looking at them, I didn’t read those kids books anymore. But then something strange happened to me one day at the mall: I saw the cover to Thor #337.
Even though I had never been a Thor fan, I was drawn to the book like a fly to a bug light. The image of this strange alien destroying Thor’s name on the cover just got my attention, and I could not resist picking it up to see who he was.
Now, honestly, I didn’t have much optimism that the book was going to be worth reading; I mean, comics had really cool covers all the time but weren’t really worth reading - especially Thor in those days. But since the artwork was cool, I just had to open it up and look at the first few pages. That naturally led me to reading those pages which caused me to read more and . . . You get the picture.
As I finally closed Thor #337, my mind was filled with Simonson's breathtaking images of immortal Asgardian gods, the honorable Beta Ray Bill and his beloved fleet, and the promise of an ominous bad guys waiting just outside everyone's notice, and it was then that I had an epiphany only a 13-year-old could believe was an epiphany: comics were not just for kids. The proof was here in my hands with a book which rivaled any movie or “literary” work I’d ever read in sheer storytelling brilliance.
Needless to say I started reading Thor on a monthly basis at that point, and for the next - almost -three years, I waited patiently every month for the next issue to arrive in my mail box. The story of Beta Ray Bill, which had began in Thor #337, was just the tip of the iceberg I found as Simonson led me on a whirlwind of adventures with the God of Thunder. Adventures that I still recall with great pleasure to this day, and before you even ask, yes Thor is still my favorite Marvel character, because your first “love” is always the best remembered and most fondly recalled I’ve found.
I rated this collection and the other Simonson Thor collections which follow five (5) stars. Those who are my friends or follow me on Goodreads know I rarely give five (5) stars to anything; I’m stingy like that I suppose. However, these issues of Thor by Simonson deserve five (5) - maybe six (6) stars - because this is without a doubt one of the greatest runs on a comic book ever. Of course, I read this collection having fallen in love with Thor issue by issue long ago, but I still believe you will love it to. You just won't have to wait a month before your next fix.
This was a great story. The first half of the book was 5 stars easy. The second half was a bit less amazing though which drug it down to a 4 stars. OvThis was a great story. The first half of the book was 5 stars easy. The second half was a bit less amazing though which drug it down to a 4 stars. Overall though my favorite Ultimate series easy....more
Like most of my book discoveries as a teenager, this one began as I lurked among the shelves at my local bookstore.Originally reviewed at Bookwraiths.
Like most of my book discoveries as a teenager, this one began as I lurked among the shelves at my local bookstore. Back then, I was always slinking through the shadows of the science fiction/fantasy aisle, endlessly scrounging through the books, hoping to uncover something that I had not seen before. Some times I was successful; other times I was not.
On this particular day though, I stumbled upon a novel with what I considered a ridiculous cover. Instantly, I recall thinking to myself, “A white Don King is on this cover? Yeah – except he is drawn as a goblin or something in the background.” So naturally, wanting to have a good joke at this book’s expense, I picked it up and showed it to my buddy who was nearby.
He thought it was ridiculous too. We made a couple of not-so-funny jokes, had a good juvenile laugh, then my friend put the novel back on the shelf and buried his head back in his favorite Dragonlance novel of the moment. Me, on the other hand, I wanted some more info about this stupid novel; something else I could make fun of, so I retrieved it from the shelf and actually read the description.
Do I even need to say what happened?
Probably not, but the fact is that I had an epiphany. (Not that I knew what an epiphany was back then. Hell, if you’d asked me what the word meant, I’d probably have guessed it was a prostrate disease or something. I realize my mistake would seem stupid now, but looking back, I’m amazed that my raging hormones hadn’t completely whipped out all my higher thought processes.) This strong realization came to me that I had found something different; a story so grim, so realistic in a fantasy way that I knew it was something new; something I’d never experienced before; something that – if the term had even been coined yet – was “grimdark.” And so, damn the cover, I immediately bought the book and began to read as fast as I could, amazed at the story that filled my mind.
For in the land of the Morigu, a horrendous war was fought a generation ago against the most evil god of them all. No creature was able to stay neutral in this grapple to the death; every conscious thing was drawn into the struggle, including mankind, elves, dwarves, the gods, and even Mother Earth herself.
Naturally, each side had their great heroes: beings who stalked across the battlefields of the world, raining down death and destruction on their enemies. However, the greatest of these champions were the morigues: males and females who willingly forsook their humanity to be raised by the Earth as her last protectors. But great power comes at great cost, and with the morigues, it inevitably became their sanity, as one after another succumbed to madness and took their own lives. Yet even with these beings of seemingly limitless power, it seemed that the evil one would still triumph.
Then the free folks did something believed to be impossible: they created a god!
One of their own was selected: the king of a small human nation, who was far from divine, pure, or anything else such as that, but rather, the only person desperate and stupid enough to do this. Thus, a mighty ritual was performed, whereby the greatest mages, talismans and weapons of the world were destroyed and their power infused into this would be god-ling. And when it actually worked, the remaining forces of “good” sent forward their god to challenge the evil one.
And come forward the dark one did. A mighty struggle taking place that laid low the land round about before the new god-ling actually triumphed!
But even in defeat, the dark one could not be destroyed, and so he was chained away in the darkness for all eternity with bonds of imprisonment so potent that they could not be removed by anyone or anything. Then there was joy in the world. Goodness and light had triumphed over evilness and darkness. An unrivaled age of tranquility was assured to last forever.
Time passes. The world moves on from this devastating war: people trying to forget. Children are born and raised with no memory of the evil one. Even the seemingly eternal heroes of the struggle begin to grow old, peculiar or die until only the survivors annual meeting serves as a reminder of that grim time. But nothing last forever – even peace. So on this particular occasion, the revelry has barely ended before something horrible occurs: the long vanquished creatures of the dark one arise from hiding to sweep over everything!
The atrocities on the people of the world in these first few weeks of fighting are staggering: vampires, goblins, and other vile creatures destroying mindlessly. Naturally, the old heroes attempt to step into the breach and hold things together, but something has changed, made their enemies stronger and them weaker. All looks lost. Destruction of the very world seems possible.
But where others believed the dark one vanquished for all time, Mother Earth was not fooled. She had felt that his defeat was too easily obtained, his acceptance of it out of character. And so, even as she attempted to heal the horrendous wounds to herself, Mother Earth held back a portion of her power, waiting for this day to come, and when she foresaw that it was almost upon her, she reached out with this part of herself, took possession of a brutalized elf whose entire family was slain by the “supposedly” vanquished goblins, and raised him as her lone morigu: the only one who would fight for her in this final struggle with the evil one.
But this defender of the Earth is different from the ones who came before; his power is wilder, more volatile; his empathy for Mother Earth’s pain more acutely felt; and his madness not a slow-moving disease but a rampant virus which has infected him completely until it is difficult for him to even relate to his fellow living creatures. And as the Morigu charges into the tide of the dark one’s horde, the wise of the world wonder whether the insanity laying behind his eyes will save them from the evil one or deliver them to him.
Needless to say, I felt like Mr. Perry had grabbed me by the throat, slapped all my preconceived fantasy sensibilities out of my head, and drug me through a gore-coated world that had little in common with the standard fantasy faire of the 1980s. Reading this novel was like sampling The Silmarillion while on acid! Like picking up Prince of Thorns and finding out there are now hundreds of Jorg Ancraths! Good guys became bad guys. Most everyone was grey instead of black or white. There were scenes of such intense violence and gore that I was both shocked and mesmerized. War became real for me in this narrative. Innocent people died by the hundreds. People were tortured and raped. Heroes would run for their lives out of fear, even as they allowed innocents to die. Despair caused even the bravest men and women to commit unspeakable acts to save themselves. The evil creatures committed atrocity after atrocity. Death himself chooses sides in this war. And the Morigu loomed over it all, unimpressed by anything he saw, ready and willing to sink his blade into the heart of a god if that was what was necessary to protect Mother Earth.
Yes, Morigu: The Desecration was truly a memorable experience in my fantasy reading. It not only shocked me and entertained me; it also showed me that even though I believed nothing in the genre could surprise me any more I was wrong. Sure, reading all the “It” writers of the time was great, but other – perhaps lesser known – works were also out there, filled with inventive and maybe even groundbreaking ideas. So while I try to follow the crowd to the next “It” fantasy novel or author, I also keep scrounging around those shadowy bookstore aisles, scanning that long e-book list on Amazon, because I never know when I just might find another Morigu novel that will spin my head around. And that is what reading is all about, right?...more
There is nothing I hate more than trying to review one of my all-time favorite books from my teenage years.Originally reviewed at Bookwraiths Reviews
There is nothing I hate more than trying to review one of my all-time favorite books from my teenage years. We all know the reason: the book just never lives up to your memories of its perfection. A fact - which if we are honest with ourselves - is inevitable, because we personally have changed too much, the world has changed too much, and our tastes have changed too much since the initial reading. This is true to a certain extent with David Edding’s Pawn of Prophecy.
Back when I picked up this first novel of The Belgariad in 1984, I was a 13-year-old or a 14-year-old (I can’t remember which anymore) just getting over an addiction to Dungeon & Dragons and trying to transition away from my pre-teen persona into my young adult one. I had also just recently made the life altering discovery of J.R.R. Tolkien, whose books made me fall in love with fantasy and ruined my dreams of ever being considered a cool kid in high school. (It was hard to be cool when you were reading The Hobbit and making jokes about what exactly JRR was talking about when he wrote “...it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort”, but I probably shouldn’t really mention that in this review.) So when Pawn of Prophecy found its way into my hands, it must have been fate, and I fell very hard for all things related to Belgarath, Polgara or Garion. A love which lasted into my early twenties and began from the very first page of this novel.
As a teen who adored the Council of Elrond chapter in The Fellowship of the Ring, the prologue to Pawn of Prophecy was like getting a fix of my favorite pharmaceutical product. Where else except for The Silmarillion could I get to read about ancient gods creating a world only to have its perfection marred by some horrible act and throw creation into a state of constant strife? Not too many places. So within minutes, I was addicted to this story of maimed Torak and his eternal conflict with his godly siblings over possession of the Orb of Aldur, and I had to have more. Honestly, it was just a great hook.
From this beginning, Mr. Eddings immediately thrust me into the story of a simple farm boy named Garion. I learned of his earliest memories, hiding under a table watching his Aunt Pol cook. I experienced him growing up with his childhood friends, playing games, and even saw his first romance between himself and a local girl Zubrette. I also read about - but payed little attention to - the introduction of a wandering storyteller named Mister Wolf, who seemed like the comic relief more than a major character. (Boy, was I wrong on that!) And like all good fantasy books, Mr. Eddings provided me with constant foreshadowing that there was some terrible evil lurking right around the corner, waiting to destroy all this normalcy. A feeling which he deftly stoked by scene after scene of Garion experiencing visions of an unknown antagonist stalking him.
Naturally, one day Garion’s quiet farm life did end and end suddenly. Mister Wolf arriving at the farm unexpectedly, bearing news that a mysterious object has been stolen by a thief whom no-one will name. This news shocks Aunt Pol, causing her to pack up her and Garion’s things and leave the farm with Mister Wolf, dragging our clueless teenager along against his will. From there the true adventures began, and what a tale it was!
A huge, colorful world inhabited by different cultures, grand characters, and even ancient gods opened up before Garion. All of it there for our young farm boy to see and experience and me tagging along behind. Mr. Eddings dazzled both of us with his constant unveiling of ancient mysteries, evil villains, grand conspiracies, divine prophecies, and wonderful history. And the whole time, I - a teenager myself - witnessed one more thing: Garion dealing with the normal teen angst of a simple boy ripped from his safe home and thrown into a larger, more dangerous world than he ever imagined. Every adventure, every heartbreak he experienced slowly turning him into a young man before my reading eyes. Something that I was also struggling with in my own life though in different ways.
It was a grand ride that Mr. Eddings took my teenage self on during those years, and I adored every one - even when I was 19 instead of a 13-year-old, because for a few hours I could go back “home” and visit my teen heroes Garion, Belgarath, Aunt Pol, Silk, and all the rest. They felt like family to me. And it all started with this book.
Later in life I returned to Pawn of Prophecy to revisit my old “friends.” Like many times when you visit your childhood haunts, I found that things had changed - specifically me. I was older. No doubt about that. The mirror doesn’t lie after all. Plus, I was a father now. Responsibilities and all that other grown up stuff weighing me down. And I have to admit that I was now a bit jaded about life. Things were more gray now and a lot less black and white than back in my teen years. So Pawn of Prophecy’s straightforward fantasy about good guys defeating bad guys did not energize me as much as it once did. The best comparison I can give is going to your twentieth high school reunion excited to see your old girlfriend/boyfriend only to realize they aren’t sixteen anymore, have put on thirty pounds and gotten wrinkles just like you. How dare they change! That is how I felt as I sat there reading about my old friends Garion, Belgarath, and Polgara.
So why the five (5) star rating if I felt this way on my re-read you ask?
Simple: I try to rate my favorite, childhood books by what I thought of them when I read them the first time.
Maybe rating certain novels that way is wrong, but I cannot think of another way to be fair to a novel which I dearly loved at an earlier period of my life. It isn’t the books fault that I have gotten older after all. And the truth of the matter is that when I read Pawn of Prophecy - not once but numerous times in the 80s - I absolutely loved it! The simple plot and world spanning journeys of Garion bedazzled me, making me want more and more, and in my obviously biased opinion, it is still a great book for the right person - maybe another 13-year-old boy trying to grow up. Because I truly believe that even in its simplicity Pawn of Prophecy can still speak to that person and begin them on their journey into the world of fantasy novels. For that reason - and all my personal memories of it - Pawn of Prophecy will always remain a 5 star book and one of my all-time favorite fantasy novels....more
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