Deadhouse Gates by Steven Erikson

"I killed him," Squint moaned. "... Who took the man's life? A broken old soldier of the High Fist's arm-- Oh, Beru, have mercy on my soul..."

Duiker wrapped the old man in his arms and held him fiercely. The bow clattered on the platform's wooden slats. The historian felt the man crumpling against him as if his bones had turned to dust, as if centuries stole into him with each ragged breath.

Commander Blistig gripped the bowman bu the back of the collar and yanked him upright. "Before the day's through, you bastard," he hissed, "ten thousand soldiers will be voicing your name." The words shook. "Like a prayer, Squint, like a Hood-damned prayer."


Well, I'm officially a fan of Erikson's absurdly ambitious epic. The scene above is from the intense climax of one of the book's five main storylines. I can tell you that just retyping the passage gave me goosebumps. Erikson is brutal with the fates of his characters, and this scene was particularly heart-wrenching.

Deadhouse Gates' plot is a bit more simple to explain than Gardens of the Moon. The book takes place immediately after the events of Gardens, and follows five main archs that occasional interweave with one another. The storylines are as follows: Kalam is an assassin with plans to strike at the very heart of the Malazan Empire. Crokus, Fiddler, and Apsalar are on a journey to return the latter from wartorn Genabackis to her quiet fishing village. Icarium and Mappo are non-human companions of incredible power on an endless journey to escape their own pasts. Felisin, Heboric, and Baudin are escapees from an Imperial mining camp simply struggling to stay alive. Duiker is the Imperial Historian, following the Malazan Army's death march through the wastelands of the Seven Cities. All of these storylines take place amidst the backdrop of Dhryjhna, the Apocalypse. A whirlwind of rebellion, both figuratively and literally. And that's not even to mention the Path of Hands, a background storyline in which shape-shifting demigod's battle against one another in a misguided attempt to ascend to full Godhood.

I have a hard time picking which of the story archs I enjoyed the most. Icarium and Mappo's relationship is deeply complex and surprisingly compelling. The more you learn about the pasts of these two companions, the more attached to them you become, the more you want them to win out in the end. Which is bizarre, considering their secret is one of unimaginable violence, capable of wiping out entire civilizations. All in all, though, I think Duiker's arch is the most interesting. The Historian follows the Imperial Army's escort of tens of thousands of refugees escaping cities torn apart by revolution. Coltaine is the leader of this army, a man feared by enemies and revered by allies. His will to survive and move forward is staggering and in many ways, he alone is responsible for saving the the lives of the horde of refugees. Coltaine's eventual betrayal by his superiors and many of the refugees he delivered to safety is a tragedy of much greater depth than you might expect to find in a fantasy story such as this one.

Erikson continues to amaze me with his ability to create genuinely memorable characters. High Priest of Shadow Iskaral Pust, for example, is perhaps one of my all-time favorite minor literary characters. Pust is a mischievous little man, completely incapable of internal monologue. This failing is apparently unbeknownst to him, but knownst to us*, as he consistently and inadvertently describes his deepest, darkest motives to the very people he is trying to hoodwink. Even with his cast of hundreds, it's hard to think of even a single, insignificant character to which Erikson doesn't give some sort of depth and soul.

All in all, Deadhouse Gates surpasses Gardens of the Moon in just about every way, which is saying something. The characters are richly painted, the dialogue is fresh and believable, and once again, the mythology of this series continues to blow my mind. Magic (thankfully) plays a smaller role in this book than Gardens but Gods and demigods still play a very important role in the story. I compared the Malazan series to a Homeric epic in the way its Gods interfere with the lives of mortals and Deadhouse only further strengthens that comparison. One scene, in particular, involving a lonely demon, the God of Shadow, and the re-animation of the bodies of thirteen hundred horribly mutilated children was simultaneously grotesque and touching. I again recommend everyone goes out and reads Gardens of the Moon, if only so it will lead them to Deadhouse Gates. After you read Deadhouse, you won't need my recommendation to want to continue the series.

Highlights: The entire "Chain of Dogs" storyline, Gesler and his crew, Apt and "her" adopted son
Lowlights: The meaninglessness of death in this series, Felisin's bitchery, not enough Quick Ben

* A cookie to anyone who can tell me what this reference is from without using google.

To a God Unknown by John Steinbeck

I have not read much by Steinbeck. I read Of Mice and Men three or four years ago, and I am fairly certain that I was assigned The Grapes of Wrath in high school, although I am not certain that I actually read it. The cover of this book caught my eye, before I noticed anything else. It was a painting of a man approaching a large gnarled tree, which stood at the top of a hill. (The picture to the left is the only one on the official Penguin Classics website. I was unable to find the correct cover.) Seeing that it was written by Steinbeck, but not recognizing the title, I flipped the book over and read the first sentence of the summary on the back. It read, “Ancient pagan beliefs, the great Greek epics, and the Bible all inform this extraordinary novel, which occupied Steinbeck for more than five difficult years.” After reading this, I had to read the book.

That one sentence summarizes To a God Unknown very well. Set in the early 20th century, it is a story of four brothers who move from Vermont to California to homestead the land. Joseph Wayne is not the oldest, but he is the leader of the brothers since their father gave him his blessing before he died. Joseph becomes convinced that the spirit of his father inhabits a large tree on his farm. He secretly communes with the tree, talking to it, seeking advice, and even offering sacrifices.

Amongst his brothers and their wives, opinions about Joseph vary. Thomas puts up with it, seemingly amused. Rama, the wife of the oldest brother, reveres Joseph. She tells Joseph’s new wife, “I do not know whether there are men born outside humanity, or whether some men are so human as to make other seem unreal. Perhaps a godling lives on earth now and then. Joseph has strength beyond vision of shattering, he has the calm of mountains, and his emotion is as wild and fierce and sharp as the lightning and just as reasonless as far as I can see or know. I tell you this man is not a man, unless he is all men.” Later the priest of a nearby town mirrors her thinking. As Joseph leaves, the priest thinks, “Thank God this man has no message. Thank God he has no will to be remembered, to be believed in, else there might be a new Christ here in the West.” However others feel about Joseph, Burton, a staunch Christian, thinks that his brother is practicing a kind of devil worship. He fears that he is allowing evil to take root in their land, and voices his disapproval to Joseph on a number of occasions.

Whether as a result of Joseph's actions or not, the Wayne family does prosper. Their crops are bountiful, their livestock reproduce at an alarming rate, and there is never any want for wild game on their property. But it is not long before the ground begins to dry up and the animals begin to die and leave the land. Joseph is certain that he knows what brought on this change, and he knows what he must do.

All throughout To a God Unknown, Steinbeck alludes to and borrows from Greek mythology and a wide range of religious traditions. In so doing, Steinbeck creates a mystical tale of his own, adding to his mythology of California.