Ross Hardy
Everything about Canon is at the sharp edge of absurdity: the story, despite its simplicity, barely makes sense; it’s at once our world and some anachronistic dreamscape; it strains against the limitations of prose and, on occasion, breaks loose—never in a contrived way; rather, a return to its most comfortable form. Canon is preposterous, but so is life. Paige Lewis intentionally cracks the shell of reality to show you the goopy yolk inside, and, well, I was moved by the yolk.
Laura and I were entirely bowled over when our incessant badgering of our lovely friends at Gollancz resulted in their giving us an ARC copy of The Devils by Joe Abercrombie. Having now finished the book, I can say confidently you're in for a real treat when it drops in May 2025. Some thoughts:
- This is by far his funniest book
- Be prepared to welcome some iconic characters into the fantasy zeitgeist
- This is also by far his most Abercrombiest book
- It reads like a chaotic D&D campaign
- The first 25% is a bit of a mess
- I had a great time
This book had so much love, so much heart, that I don’t know if I can contain it all. Kaveh Akbar disappears into the book and leaves you with characters so real you’d swear they exist. It’s a heavy book—anyone battling with mental illness or addiction may find it too raw. That is a testament to its observation and immediacy. If you can, let Martyr! shake you.
Hyperion continued to annoy me all the way to the very end, but I can't deny the presence of some bright spots that made it worth the journey. Final thoughts below. Expect spoilers.
Dan Simmons is still the most frustrating author I can recall reading. He has this tendency to be on the verge of creating a masterpiece, then decides to paint a stripe of gun-metal grey across the middle.
The central conceit of Hyperion is so well designed and is what ultimately kept me clinging to this book. The parts where he leans into the existential horror of it—that is, the Priest's tale and the Scholar's tale—are exquisite. These stories are some of the highest calibre cerebral sci-fi I've read. If he had decided to write all 6 tales in this style, this book would have easily made my all time list.
It was a wise decision for Simmons to place the Priest's tale at the beginning, because without it I may not have had the good grace to endure the rest. I'm discovering I have almost zero interest in reading action for the sake of action. Both the Soldier's tale and the Detective's tale suffered from this. If you must have a complex action sequence, I think it's imperative the reader understands why they should care about the outcome. The metanarrative must supercede the narrative.
Simmons has a puerile streak which undermines his worldbuilding. He seems to think the reader will struggle to relate to events, places, and people in his future world unless they are connected to events, places, and people of the present day, which leads to some really hokey and tasteless inclusions. “AIDS 2 virus”. “The First and Second Holocaust”. “The New Prophet”. “New” anything, for that matter.
Let's talk about the ending. Simmons's choice to insert his short story "Remembering Siri" is such a bizarre choice in pacing, and it was at this point that I lost faith that he would pull the strands together. I think this could have been safely left out. The rest of the Consul's tale actually did pull the strands together in a sense, only for Simmons to seemingly abandon the story on the edge of a cliff, forcing the reader to buy the next book in the series.
All the way along, I've been trying to work out what this book reminds me of, and I think I finally worked it out. When it comes to stories based around intrigue, withholding answers, bizarre twists, frustrating directions, and a sense the writer didn't really know where they were going, there's no better example than Lost. It probably won't surprise you to know I lost my patience and stopped tuning in after season 2.
I won't be reading The Fall of Hyperion, at least for a while. I'm calling your bluff, Dan Simmons. I'd rather leave the story at this point without knowing what happens.
For Duré and Weintraub, however, I will never forget Hyperion.
Another strong Pratchett novel with a bit of a saggy middle and more parentheticals than I like. “But Ross, you're reading a Pratchett! Why would you complain about the parentheticals?” Well, I like them, but I'm not sure we needed the donkey up a minaret. That plotline wasn't really going anywhere now was it. Still, an enthusiastic thumbs up.
A touching tribute to my favourite author. I can't really explain what it is about this guy. Maybe it's the fact he died before I had read any of his work, meaning I could never experience him as more than an idol. Reading this biography brought me closer to him than ever before and helped me bring this to a point of reconciliation. Thank you Rob.
Stunning prose. Gorgeous atmosphere. Intrigue wound like a spring. But... Mary seems not to realise how autonomous she is throughout the story and I wanted a more critical examination of what is expected of her due to her gender. I suppose it might be a lot to ask for considering when it was written. Or maybe it was there and I missed it.
Updated review: I get it now. All I needed was to alter my expectations. God what a crushing, beautiful book. It's not by any means flawless, but I don't think it matters. It makes me want to reread other books that frustrated me on the first read… Titus Groan, Hyperion, Cloud Atlas, Rakesfall…
—
A book of two halves. Was it worth working through the first half to get to the second? For me, I'm not sure it was. I was looking for something different, something more ubiquitously dark. It got there in the end, and that is by far the best section of the book. I think it was a matter of expectations: I thought I was about to get Endo's Silence in space, but I was surprised to find half of the crew weren't even Jesuits, and those that were made no attempt to proselytise. It made for an odd, forced dynamic between the crew that didn't play out realistically. For all that, MDR is clearly a skilled writer, and I can't fault the prose.
An instant favourite. Susanna Clarke has mastered the English language, crafting her prose so that it straddles Gothic literature and modern-day fantasy, retaining the best features of both, and diluting neither. The foundation of the magic in believable folklore, the eccentricities of the rituals, the fantastic meta-commentary on books... it's as if this book was designed to tick every one of my boxes.
I only have one critique and it's a weak one—some footnotes felt superfluous. However, others felt essential, so I don't have the first idea how one would decide what to include or not.
Also how refreshing to read a long story that begins and concludes within the same boards! No slight on trilogies, but I am predisposed to like a book that stands alone.
I'm loving this series. The characters are some of the best in fantasy fiction. Steven Pacey once again delivered an incredible narrator performance. However, reviewing this as a book with a start and an end, it definitely suffers from middle book syndrome. Its arc was fairly weak. I expect that's at the expense of the grander trilogy arc. Looking forward to seeing for myself!
This book was a chore. I kept at it, hoping it would at some point offer up something more respectful of the time endorsement it required, but nothing came. Every character says every line of dialogue twice, for some reason. Perhaps two or three things happened in total. Maybe this is the kind of book that may have been right to be written, but not so much one to be read.
That's a very scathing paragraph, so here are some things I liked: I enjoyed how specific the descriptions were of the characters. I enjoyed the characters' eccentricities. I also liked Saul Reichlin's narration.
I will say one more thing. Having finished both Titus Groan and The Bible, I'm pretty sure I could finish any book now.