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I'm making astounding progress in terms of reading lately. I finished Essays Written in Idleness, and then I Am a Cat. Next I tore through Shinsengumi: the Shogun's Last Samurai Corps, and thoroughly enjoyed it. I suppose it whetted my appetite for battles and glory and tragedy, because now I'm flying through a reread of Katharine Kerr's Deverry books, and enjoying them fully as much as I did the first time (which was some years back, during high school). Daggerspell's behind me now, and I'm fast approaching the halfway point in Darkspell. Which means that soon I'll be placing an order with Amazon to get my hands on more of them.
There's much to admire about them. The setting is rich and realistic, a Celtic kingdom modeled on old Wales. The focus is on nobles and princes and the warriors that make or lose their destinies, but there's no shortage of politics to lend urgency to the battles. The magic is well thought-out and far from omnipotent. The characters are deep, each with their own motivations and involved histories. And it even has a race of elves that I can stand, and even like-- I can't tell you how rare that is, because normally I despise elves in fantasy books. They tend to be self-involved, arrogant, annoyingly perfect, insufferably smug, and so holier-than-thou that I pray for someone to come and take them down a peg. And no one ever does, more's the pity. If I lived with elves, I'd constantly be rigging low wires all over the place, just so that I could see them trip and fall on their faces.
Deverry has the Elcyion Lacar, and while they might have some of the above listed qualities, there's enough about them that isn't perfect that I can accept and even like them. No shining, pearly, unlivable cities for them-- they're nomads, traveling with herds of horses and living in painted tents. They may scorn human cities as cramped and dirty, but that's not surprising when they live in a vast open space and never stay in one place long enough for sewage to become a problem. Marvelous craftsmanship, yes. Superior technology? Hells no; they don't even have wheels. They use travois to haul their stuff. Beautiful? Yes. Graceful? Yes. Superior archers? Yes. Perfect? Not on your life. They feud and argue and sleep around just as much as the humans do. They're real, that's what it comes down to for me.
Trying to recall another set of elves I've liked . . . the Sithi, "the Peaceful Ones," from Tad Williams' Memory, Sorrow, and Thorn trilogy comes to mind. They're a little closer to the classic annoying elves, but they still have enough reality to them for me to like them. Overall, I'd say the situation there was the equivalent of taking a scullion from a castle in barely-medieval France and dropping him in the royal court of Heian Japan. If the royal court liked trees a whole lot. Although I haven't read those books in a long time; perhaps I should turn to them after I finish with Deverry.
I liked the elves in Judith Tarr's Hound and the Falcon trilogy and accompanying books, largely because while they themselves were far beyond human, and had a good measure of perfection to them, they lived entirely immersed in the human world. They were fully human in terms of their personalities and their emotions. Beautiful and magical, yes, powerful, but by no means above or detached from that which is normal.
To put it bluntly, I like the kind of elves who can eat too much rich food at a feast and must spend an hour or two in the loo afterwards.
Perfect societies of any sort rankle with me; I could never accept Star Trek (a human society without money or exchange of any kind? Come ON) for much the same reason I can't accept most elves. Perhaps it's a failing on my part; elves are supposed to be a different species, and I'm always wanting them to be human. Which means they must be fallible, capable of pettiness and stupidity as well as breathtaking beauty. That a society should exist out of reach of those sins that humanity is constantly beset by is not a society that I can accept in my heart as true.
And come on, the tripwires would be an excellent idea. You'd laugh, too. And if the elf who fell over laughed as well, I'd swear blood kinship with him and buy him a beer down at Kuttaro. Or even some girly, elf-y fruit-flavored chu-hai. As long as he can put up with me teasing him for drinking the sugary stuff.
There's much to admire about them. The setting is rich and realistic, a Celtic kingdom modeled on old Wales. The focus is on nobles and princes and the warriors that make or lose their destinies, but there's no shortage of politics to lend urgency to the battles. The magic is well thought-out and far from omnipotent. The characters are deep, each with their own motivations and involved histories. And it even has a race of elves that I can stand, and even like-- I can't tell you how rare that is, because normally I despise elves in fantasy books. They tend to be self-involved, arrogant, annoyingly perfect, insufferably smug, and so holier-than-thou that I pray for someone to come and take them down a peg. And no one ever does, more's the pity. If I lived with elves, I'd constantly be rigging low wires all over the place, just so that I could see them trip and fall on their faces.
Deverry has the Elcyion Lacar, and while they might have some of the above listed qualities, there's enough about them that isn't perfect that I can accept and even like them. No shining, pearly, unlivable cities for them-- they're nomads, traveling with herds of horses and living in painted tents. They may scorn human cities as cramped and dirty, but that's not surprising when they live in a vast open space and never stay in one place long enough for sewage to become a problem. Marvelous craftsmanship, yes. Superior technology? Hells no; they don't even have wheels. They use travois to haul their stuff. Beautiful? Yes. Graceful? Yes. Superior archers? Yes. Perfect? Not on your life. They feud and argue and sleep around just as much as the humans do. They're real, that's what it comes down to for me.
Trying to recall another set of elves I've liked . . . the Sithi, "the Peaceful Ones," from Tad Williams' Memory, Sorrow, and Thorn trilogy comes to mind. They're a little closer to the classic annoying elves, but they still have enough reality to them for me to like them. Overall, I'd say the situation there was the equivalent of taking a scullion from a castle in barely-medieval France and dropping him in the royal court of Heian Japan. If the royal court liked trees a whole lot. Although I haven't read those books in a long time; perhaps I should turn to them after I finish with Deverry.
I liked the elves in Judith Tarr's Hound and the Falcon trilogy and accompanying books, largely because while they themselves were far beyond human, and had a good measure of perfection to them, they lived entirely immersed in the human world. They were fully human in terms of their personalities and their emotions. Beautiful and magical, yes, powerful, but by no means above or detached from that which is normal.
To put it bluntly, I like the kind of elves who can eat too much rich food at a feast and must spend an hour or two in the loo afterwards.
Perfect societies of any sort rankle with me; I could never accept Star Trek (a human society without money or exchange of any kind? Come ON) for much the same reason I can't accept most elves. Perhaps it's a failing on my part; elves are supposed to be a different species, and I'm always wanting them to be human. Which means they must be fallible, capable of pettiness and stupidity as well as breathtaking beauty. That a society should exist out of reach of those sins that humanity is constantly beset by is not a society that I can accept in my heart as true.
And come on, the tripwires would be an excellent idea. You'd laugh, too. And if the elf who fell over laughed as well, I'd swear blood kinship with him and buy him a beer down at Kuttaro. Or even some girly, elf-y fruit-flavored chu-hai. As long as he can put up with me teasing him for drinking the sugary stuff.
