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starladyMonette, Sarah. Corambis. New York: Ace Books, 2009.
The book's official release date is tomorrow, but thanks to the magic of libraries and of non-strict laydown dates, I not only have it in my possession but have actually finished reading it. Apropos of this rather spirited discussion in the author's LJ (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
truepenny), of which I will have more to say anon when I have puzzled my own views out further, I found it highly ironic that the slipcover summary refers to Corambis being the last in "her brilliant fantasy series." Way to not take your own advice, Ace!
Ahem. The book is the fourth (and sadly final, it seems) book in Monette's Doctrine of Labyrinths series, which I only picked up in January, and so have been spared the long wait between books. Having been exiled from their home in the city of Mélusine for his crime of magical heresy, Felix Harrowgate, a wizard and an ex-whore, and his half-brother Mildmay Foxe, an ex-assassin, travel to the far northern country of Corambis, just in time to become embroiled in some very old magic that has been re-awokened, as well as to begin to attempt to deal with all the issues of their individual history and their mutual relationship that have been festering since the beginning of the first book. Double special bonus: Corambis has trains. And a subway. Also, the supporting characters Corbie and Murtagh are pretty awesome.
I compared Monette to China Miéville in my review of The Mirador, and at the end of Corambis I found the comparison even more apt, superficially because of trains and on a deeper level because of both authors' (mostly implicit) views on the nature of rape. I wouldn't call Monette "New Weird" or steampunk, but as an aside, I think it's a crying shame that fantasy with knowledge of modernity gets its own sub-dividing sub-label. Less with the royalty, more with the technology, fantasy!
Also, I was deeply pleased (and I really enjoyed this aspect of The Mirador as well) that the overarching plot of the book was simply the three main characters (Felix & Mildmay are joined as viewpoint narrators by a former nobleman, Kay Brightmore) trying to adjust their habits and to adjust themselves to their greatly changed circumstances--the great magical doom is certainly not a red herring, but the book is not really about the Clock of Eclipses or the Summerdown engine, and I think it's a much richer narrative for that. I enjoyed greatly how Kay, who is blinded in the first chapter, becomes explicitly aware of how society now feminizes him and comes to recognize the straitened choices noblewomen face in his society through the experiences of his fiance and his sister--all incredibly subtly. It's also the first book where I've really been able to completely enjoy reading Felix's share of the story, which speaks volumes about how Felix comes to recognize his own behavior patterns and begins to choose to change them. And the choice, of course, is the point.
Monette isn't afraid to wrestle with genre conventions, such as the nature of magic--indeed, the confusion about it in her world gives rise to one of its most interesting aspects, that of competing schools of wizardry and interpretations of magic. There's even a fascinating little passage in which Felix's speculations about the series' main villain (Felix's teacher), who is pretty much EVIL, retroactively explain why he was like, as Mildmay says, "an evil wizard in a story." (Hint: He is. Hah.)
I thought after I finished the second book, The Virtu, that the series had a sort of spiral-shaped narrative (and I think the first two books were originally split, which is a deeply sensible editorial decision that nevertheless leaves indelible tracks in the books to which it's done), which seemed appropriate for a series about labyrinths: throughout the four books Felix and Mildmay keep circling back to the same "place" on one axis of their relationship, while on other axes they have moved greatly. So the end of the second book finds them back in the city they left in the the first book, while the third finds them in the same place two years later but with their relationship having completely backslid and then leaving the city again at the end, while in the fourth book they finish their journey and come "home," but of course home is completely different. This would all be much more clear if I could just make a three-dimensional visual diagram, but let me summarize by saying that I think the obvious parallels and incremental repetitions throughout the series add a lot to its coherency as a whole, and that Monette does an excellent job of tying up the plot threads satisfyingly. Anyway, if you haven't read these books, and like fantasy, I can't recommend them highly enough.
The book's official release date is tomorrow, but thanks to the magic of libraries and of non-strict laydown dates, I not only have it in my possession but have actually finished reading it. Apropos of this rather spirited discussion in the author's LJ (
truepenny), of which I will have more to say anon when I have puzzled my own views out further, I found it highly ironic that the slipcover summary refers to Corambis being the last in "her brilliant fantasy series." Way to not take your own advice, Ace!Ahem. The book is the fourth (and sadly final, it seems) book in Monette's Doctrine of Labyrinths series, which I only picked up in January, and so have been spared the long wait between books. Having been exiled from their home in the city of Mélusine for his crime of magical heresy, Felix Harrowgate, a wizard and an ex-whore, and his half-brother Mildmay Foxe, an ex-assassin, travel to the far northern country of Corambis, just in time to become embroiled in some very old magic that has been re-awokened, as well as to begin to attempt to deal with all the issues of their individual history and their mutual relationship that have been festering since the beginning of the first book. Double special bonus: Corambis has trains. And a subway. Also, the supporting characters Corbie and Murtagh are pretty awesome.
I compared Monette to China Miéville in my review of The Mirador, and at the end of Corambis I found the comparison even more apt, superficially because of trains and on a deeper level because of both authors' (mostly implicit) views on the nature of rape. I wouldn't call Monette "New Weird" or steampunk, but as an aside, I think it's a crying shame that fantasy with knowledge of modernity gets its own sub-dividing sub-label. Less with the royalty, more with the technology, fantasy!
Also, I was deeply pleased (and I really enjoyed this aspect of The Mirador as well) that the overarching plot of the book was simply the three main characters (Felix & Mildmay are joined as viewpoint narrators by a former nobleman, Kay Brightmore) trying to adjust their habits and to adjust themselves to their greatly changed circumstances--the great magical doom is certainly not a red herring, but the book is not really about the Clock of Eclipses or the Summerdown engine, and I think it's a much richer narrative for that. I enjoyed greatly how Kay, who is blinded in the first chapter, becomes explicitly aware of how society now feminizes him and comes to recognize the straitened choices noblewomen face in his society through the experiences of his fiance and his sister--all incredibly subtly. It's also the first book where I've really been able to completely enjoy reading Felix's share of the story, which speaks volumes about how Felix comes to recognize his own behavior patterns and begins to choose to change them. And the choice, of course, is the point.
Monette isn't afraid to wrestle with genre conventions, such as the nature of magic--indeed, the confusion about it in her world gives rise to one of its most interesting aspects, that of competing schools of wizardry and interpretations of magic. There's even a fascinating little passage in which Felix's speculations about the series' main villain (Felix's teacher), who is pretty much EVIL, retroactively explain why he was like, as Mildmay says, "an evil wizard in a story." (Hint: He is. Hah.)
I thought after I finished the second book, The Virtu, that the series had a sort of spiral-shaped narrative (and I think the first two books were originally split, which is a deeply sensible editorial decision that nevertheless leaves indelible tracks in the books to which it's done), which seemed appropriate for a series about labyrinths: throughout the four books Felix and Mildmay keep circling back to the same "place" on one axis of their relationship, while on other axes they have moved greatly. So the end of the second book finds them back in the city they left in the the first book, while the third finds them in the same place two years later but with their relationship having completely backslid and then leaving the city again at the end, while in the fourth book they finish their journey and come "home," but of course home is completely different. This would all be much more clear if I could just make a three-dimensional visual diagram, but let me summarize by saying that I think the obvious parallels and incremental repetitions throughout the series add a lot to its coherency as a whole, and that Monette does an excellent job of tying up the plot threads satisfyingly. Anyway, if you haven't read these books, and like fantasy, I can't recommend them highly enough.