Tad Williams

The Memory Sorrow and Thorn trilogy had a richness in tone and atmosphere that was never equalled by the Shadowmarch series, a paler cousin, and I feared Tad Williams would not be able to recapture it. Somehow he's done it. 'Melancholy' has been cited by others as the key ingredient, and that is here again with both the Northmen and the Norns endlessly reflecting on losses and the lost, in a frozen land of ruins.

I've not been to the world of Osten Ard since the 1990s, but I remember the show more Norns as intimidating and mysterious. Williams strips all of that away by providing their perspective, and I was disappointed at first to find them almost conventional until, as intended, they gradually won my sympathy and more aspects of their culture were shared. I was further satisfied thanks to soldier Porto's viewpoint as he struggles to reassure Endri, demonstrating that the Norns are no less mysterious or frightening to the mortals than they ever were, even though we as readers can now see past the veil. Acts of desperation on one side are suspected as artful ruses or traps by the other, realistically displaying the effects of fear and caution, and finally all my qualms were put to rest. The Norns are still a nasty piece of work.

In a shorter work like this, Williams' primary fault (slow pacing) vanishes. The plot moves quickly, and halfway through I began to realize this story had more to say than I'd expected. The wrap-up is stellar, even if it was designed to be a setup for the next trilogy, and this serves as an excellent standalone. My takeaway is this is 1990s fantasy with a new shine, impeccably told, and maybe Tad Williams' best thing ever. If I continue to lament the typical results of authors returning to beloved fantasy worlds decades later, usually making a hash of it, I'll have to note this exception. Osten Ard is back. show less

Our main character angel, Bobby Dollar, travels to hell in order to rescue his demon girlfriend in this adventure that is one part Hieronymus Bosch, and another part a gritty noir crime story. I liked this one more because it transforms from an urban fantasy noir story to a straight-up horror novel while he is in Hell and Tad Williams' imaginative depths knew no bounds in creating suffering. It's definitely not for the faint of heart and the tonal switch may turn off some readers who enjoyed show more the noir feeling of the first book. Bobby is a bit of a tragic character (and he whines about it, which does get tiresome), but there are some interesting philosophical questions asked here, but they never bog down the main quest story that Bobby is on. I'm looking forward to the third book a bit more now, even though it will probably approach more of the tone of the first book, which was okay, but I didn't enjoy it as much as this one. show less

I've read too many prior failed attempts by fantasy authors to return to a prior world from their personal golden age. Time and again they can't recapture the magic, so it would not have surprised me to encounter another failure. Tad Williams is having none of that. He not only recaptures the characters and world we've known, he also takes into account how the genre has evolved around him and brings out a new plot that goes beyond the tropes of what came before. Not that Memory, Sorrow and show more Thorn didn't push boundaries, but it came out right on the border of when we turned the page from Tolkien mimics to exploring new directions, and it hadn't entirely shaken off its precedents.

It's both a wonderful thing to return to Osten Ard, and a hard thing to know that doing so means necessarily disturbing the waters of what we could have imagined as happily-ever-after. There can't be new adventures without new conflict to torment the characters I loved in my high school days. But I'm intrigued by how they've aged right along with me. I was a mooncalf then, just like Simon. Now I've faced some weight of years and maturity, and the passing of youth, just as Simon has. I can feel what's been lost and will never be regained. I can feel his innermost wish for everyone to just get along and leave the kingdom in peace. And I can well imagine his inner turmoil, the frustration and exhaustion when people and circumstances refuse to behave themselves and start getting out of hand again. I can imagine his fear that he has not been the person his kingdom needs, that some measure of what's now come about is due to his personal unworthiness in the role that was thrust upon him.

The way he and Miriamele complement one another is wonderful, and I'm very glad the author didn't spoil either character by miring them in marital dispute or personal crises. They still demonstrate a capacity to be the heroes, and can focus on the challenge of being viewed as among the wisest people in the room however much they might feel otherwise. So many of the people they relied on prior have passed on, and those who remain aren't the healthy strong youths they used to be. They must learn how to put a measure of their faith in those younger, green and reckless though they are, when a new wave of menace threatens the kingdom. Their grandchild Morgan represents the core of the new mooncalf generation, burdened by weakness stemming from privilege, overprotection, and the ducking of responsibility. He's an object of frustration, both for his grandparents and for the reader, and it soon becomes clear he'll have to learn the hard way.

Other old faces are back, and there's some interesting new ones in the mix. As happened in "The Heart of What Was Lost", Williams adds Norn perspectives that steal from them a measure of their mystery while making them more relatable. This is part of the shift he's acknowledging has taken place in the genre over the last three decades, the growing distaste for assumed evil hordes of faceless others who can be mercilessly killed and defeated by our heroes with no qualms for the ethics involved or understanding of what they are destroying. We want our fantasy worlds to be more reflective of the complexities of our real lives, where imperialism and racism are (ever so) slowly giving way to mutual respect. Well, mostly. Sort of. It isn't going to be an easy transition for Osten Ard, either. show less

Having dispensed with the introduction, now we have some wheels under the story. Every chapter is focused on stakes of one kind or another and moves it forward. Joshua's heirs have been identified, as is our inside traitor, and the progress of all bears careful watching. Nabbanai is a rat's nest of intrigue, the Sithi are more present than in the first book, the mysterious Norn machinations continue to unfold, and Simon keeps doing his level best to manage one crisis after another. The name show more 'Narrowdark' pops up, giving a premonition of how it might be gone into in the third book. While it sometimes feels as if bits of the original trilogy's ground are being covered again, I think that's one of this sequel series' messages: that neglected or ignored history will repeat itself when its lessons are dismissed out of hand.

Something Williams starts doing here is dividing perspectives within chapters among multiple characters. This helps condense the story and increase the pacing (certain other fantasy authors, take note!). Smart interweaving happens whereby different scenes begin to inform one another, at least for the reader. A couple of minor weaknesses occur toward the end: Hyara's stabbing felt unlikely and required Eolair to act out of character. Miri has been wonderful throughout, but when confronted by Turia she ought to have demanded Turia produce the evidence she is plotting vengeance around, then imposed her own threat about the consequences of vigilante justice in her kingdom.

I have deliberately tried not to think too hard about where all this is headed and how things might potentially wrap up. I'm entirely content with just enjoying the ride and letting the author take me where he will. There have been past instances where it was the second book that suffered in one of William's four-volume trilogies, but this is a stellar exception. show less