hc.newton
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader. If you like this post, you might like others on that site. Consider checking it out!
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“The tide is coming in,” he said. “The ocean has reached this little pool. There will be turbulence, and confusion, and ruin. This is what happens when something small joins something vast.”
What’s The Traitor Baru Cormorant About?
This is tricky…in brief, the Empire of Masks comes and (mostly peacefully) annexes the island of Taranoke. Social hygienists and others come in to help civilize and educate the inhabitants. Part of that involves teaching their children—Baru Cormorant is one of the (if not the) brightest of the students—and she is told that she can go far in the world. Perhaps even to be part of the Empire’s government. Which makes her study harder.
She knows that the Empire cannot be beaten—especially by her people—militarily. Any change will have to come from within, so she has to earn a position of influence.
After school, she’s sent to be the Imperial Accountant to a region annexed some time before her home was—but there are still many groups trying to rebel and a variety of methods being employed to keep them down.
Baru finds corruption and fraud on all levels—and comes up with a very clever way to throw cold water on the upstarts through a little monetary manipulation.
Then, she’s swept up in a movement on the other side—people from Aurdwynn tired of bowing the knee (literally and figuratively) to the Empire—they want their land back. And Baru ends up acting as one of their leaders in the effort. Maybe she couldn’t help her people, but maybe she can be of service to these?
Things get wild after that.
Why did I pick this up? Why did I keep reading?
I picked this up because it was the Fantasy Book Club pick for the month. I knew nothing about it beyond that.
Why did I stick with it? Well, for the most part, because it was the Fantasy Book Club pick for the month. The writing was good, Baru was interesting, I liked the opening pages. But honestly—economic manipulation, political games that don’t seem to matter, and auditing the finances of the territory and various Dukes/Duchesses is not my idea of a riveting read.
But somewhere after the halfway point (arguably too late, and this would’ve been a good DNF candidate), things started to pick up. And then the action got a bit brisker, the political maneuvering wasn’t just about backroom deals that added up to little victories—they became about life and death—and not just in a theoretical way. The book kept getting better and better—like the proverbial snowball rolling downhill, getting bigger and faster all the way.
And then Dickinson threw in his twists, and…oh, reader, I cannot tell you how hard I fell for this book.
What does this book tell us about humanity?
First, I’m going to lift two paragraphs from my post earlier this week about Adrian Tchaikovsky’s City of Last Chances (a book I thought about a lot as I read this one)
For one, there’s a great depiction of the utter lack of compassion and naked ambition that can befall those who are convinced they/their group are absolutely correct, the only determiner of what is right/wrong, as they try to elevate/educate/correct another group of people.
On the other side, we have a selfishness and greed that a resistance can give shelter to. “Yes, I want to push back against this oppressive regime—but not so much that it’ll interfere with my art/scholarship/business or cause me any more inconvenience than I’m currently experiencing.”
But that’s a cheat—also, it’s not the biggest thing that stands out to me about this book. This book is a fantastic depiction of vengeance and what it can do to a person. Time after time after time, Baru gets the opportunity to live a decent life, to take some pleasure in things, to trust people (at least some), to work for the betterment of someone—anyone. And she really can’t—at least not for long—because she’s so entirely driven by her mission to change the Empire from within. Nothing comes before that—nothing is equal to that.
This makes her life dark, unpleasant, and unfulfilling, sure. It also makes her a handy tool for those who recognize her single-mindedness. I won’t get into who uses her in this way (or tries to, or sets her on a path to being used this way)—but despite what she thinks—and she really can’t see how easily she lets them do it to her. (or does she?)
I think it’s easy to see Baru and her thirst for vengeance all around us—not to the same degree that often (thankfully). But it’s there. It’s one of the uglier sides of humanity (and there are more than enough of those). And the reflective reader is going to pick up on this.
So, what did I think about The Traitor Baru Cormorant?
Even for the 200 hundred or so pages that I really wondered about this book, I couldn’t deny that Dickinson had writing chops. He captured characters and little moments between them so well. His descriptions were vivid and brought this world to life. And there were just so many quotable lines throughout the book, things like “This is the truth. You will know because it hurts.”
But, the pacing…I just don’t know. I don’t know if enough readers will stick with the political posturing, the economics, the audits, and the like to get to the good stuff. Yes, in retrospect, it’s absolutely worth it. And I can make the argument for him pacing it the way he did. I just don’t know that he should’ve. At one point, he writes about Baru, “She accepted the bargain without understanding the price. A terrible mistake, for an accountant.” I similarly wonder if the price Dickinson asks readers to pay to get to the latter half of the book is a terrible mistake for a writer.
But the book as a whole is just brilliant. For all the twists, turns, and shocks that fill these pages, he plays fair with the audience. Towards the end, there are a few pages where Baru thinks back over what had happened, and Dickinson lays it all out for us so we can see where he’d told us everything we needed to know. He’s like a Golden Age mystery writer, putting all the clues right out in the open for the reader to put together.
I was blown away by this book. Baru is a fascinating character—as are so many others, but I can’t really get into the who and why I find them so fascinating without revealing too much about them. Maybe I’ll be able to write about the survivors after the next book—if more than one or two show up.
Originally posted at irresponsiblereader.com.
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader. If you like this post, you might like others on that site. Consider checking it out!
---
“The tide is coming in,” he said. “The ocean has reached this little pool. There will be turbulence, and confusion, and ruin. This is what happens when something small joins something vast.”
What’s The Traitor Baru Cormorant About?
This is tricky…in brief, the Empire of Masks comes and (mostly peacefully) annexes the island of Taranoke. Social hygienists and others come in to help civilize and educate the inhabitants. Part of that involves teaching their children—Baru Cormorant is one of the (if not the) brightest of the students—and she is told that she can go far in the world. Perhaps even to be part of the Empire’s government. Which makes her study harder.
She knows that the Empire cannot be beaten—especially by her people—militarily. Any change will have to come from within, so she has to earn a position of influence.
After school, she’s sent to be the Imperial Accountant to a region annexed some time before her home was—but there are still many groups trying to rebel and a variety of methods being employed to keep them down.
Baru finds corruption and fraud on all levels—and comes up with a very clever way to throw cold water on the upstarts through a little monetary manipulation.
Then, she’s swept up in a movement on the other side—people from Aurdwynn tired of bowing the knee (literally and figuratively) to the Empire—they want their land back. And Baru ends up acting as one of their leaders in the effort. Maybe she couldn’t help her people, but maybe she can be of service to these?
Things get wild after that.
Why did I pick this up? Why did I keep reading?
I picked this up because it was the Fantasy Book Club pick for the month. I knew nothing about it beyond that.
Why did I stick with it? Well, for the most part, because it was the Fantasy Book Club pick for the month. The writing was good, Baru was interesting, I liked the opening pages. But honestly—economic manipulation, political games that don’t seem to matter, and auditing the finances of the territory and various Dukes/Duchesses is not my idea of a riveting read.
But somewhere after the halfway point (arguably too late, and this would’ve been a good DNF candidate), things started to pick up. And then the action got a bit brisker, the political maneuvering wasn’t just about backroom deals that added up to little victories—they became about life and death—and not just in a theoretical way. The book kept getting better and better—like the proverbial snowball rolling downhill, getting bigger and faster all the way.
And then Dickinson threw in his twists, and…oh, reader, I cannot tell you how hard I fell for this book.
What does this book tell us about humanity?
First, I’m going to lift two paragraphs from my post earlier this week about Adrian Tchaikovsky’s City of Last Chances (a book I thought about a lot as I read this one)
For one, there’s a great depiction of the utter lack of compassion and naked ambition that can befall those who are convinced they/their group are absolutely correct, the only determiner of what is right/wrong, as they try to elevate/educate/correct another group of people.
On the other side, we have a selfishness and greed that a resistance can give shelter to. “Yes, I want to push back against this oppressive regime—but not so much that it’ll interfere with my art/scholarship/business or cause me any more inconvenience than I’m currently experiencing.”
But that’s a cheat—also, it’s not the biggest thing that stands out to me about this book. This book is a fantastic depiction of vengeance and what it can do to a person. Time after time after time, Baru gets the opportunity to live a decent life, to take some pleasure in things, to trust people (at least some), to work for the betterment of someone—anyone. And she really can’t—at least not for long—because she’s so entirely driven by her mission to change the Empire from within. Nothing comes before that—nothing is equal to that.
This makes her life dark, unpleasant, and unfulfilling, sure. It also makes her a handy tool for those who recognize her single-mindedness. I won’t get into who uses her in this way (or tries to, or sets her on a path to being used this way)—but despite what she thinks—and she really can’t see how easily she lets them do it to her. (or does she?)
I think it’s easy to see Baru and her thirst for vengeance all around us—not to the same degree that often (thankfully). But it’s there. It’s one of the uglier sides of humanity (and there are more than enough of those). And the reflective reader is going to pick up on this.
So, what did I think about The Traitor Baru Cormorant?
Even for the 200 hundred or so pages that I really wondered about this book, I couldn’t deny that Dickinson had writing chops. He captured characters and little moments between them so well. His descriptions were vivid and brought this world to life. And there were just so many quotable lines throughout the book, things like “This is the truth. You will know because it hurts.”
But, the pacing…I just don’t know. I don’t know if enough readers will stick with the political posturing, the economics, the audits, and the like to get to the good stuff. Yes, in retrospect, it’s absolutely worth it. And I can make the argument for him pacing it the way he did. I just don’t know that he should’ve. At one point, he writes about Baru, “She accepted the bargain without understanding the price. A terrible mistake, for an accountant.” I similarly wonder if the price Dickinson asks readers to pay to get to the latter half of the book is a terrible mistake for a writer.
But the book as a whole is just brilliant. For all the twists, turns, and shocks that fill these pages, he plays fair with the audience. Towards the end, there are a few pages where Baru thinks back over what had happened, and Dickinson lays it all out for us so we can see where he’d told us everything we needed to know. He’s like a Golden Age mystery writer, putting all the clues right out in the open for the reader to put together.
I was blown away by this book. Baru is a fascinating character—as are so many others, but I can’t really get into the who and why I find them so fascinating without revealing too much about them. Maybe I’ll be able to write about the survivors after the next book—if more than one or two show up.
Originally posted at irresponsiblereader.com.