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3.67 AVERAGE
3.67 AVERAGE
I always force myself to finish a book even if I don't like it, Lyonesse was a trial. I didn't enjoy the often interrupted and meandering storylines, I didn't care for most of the characters and I resented the tonne of plot cul de sacs.
I did enjoy the flowery, descriptive stuff and the interesting vocabulary choices, even flipped to the dictionary and learned some fancy new words.
At least I can say I've read this fantasy classic - though I really hope anyone new to the genre doesn't pick this up and get discouraged from fantasy novels altogether
I did enjoy the flowery, descriptive stuff and the interesting vocabulary choices, even flipped to the dictionary and learned some fancy new words.
At least I can say I've read this fantasy classic - though I really hope anyone new to the genre doesn't pick this up and get discouraged from fantasy novels altogether
Aside from the Dying Earth books, I’ve not read much Jack Vance. Which is odd, as I do adore those, the complexity and richness of the language, the sly wit and dark humour, the anti-heroes so well rendered. Lyonesse is a quite different beast. In some ways it feels far more of a traditional fantasy than the much earlier tales of Cugel the clever and Turjan and Chun the Unavoidable. It is definitely more of a true novel; most of the Dying Earth books are portmanteau made up of episodic short stories, while this is a distinct single tale.
The novel is set in several of the divided kingdoms of the Elder Isles, placed south of Ireland and north of Iberia, roughly where the Bay of Biscay becomes the Atlantic Ocean proper, as shown with a truly terrible map. We gather from the setting and occasional footnotes that this is where so many of the myths of Europe originate; this is Atlantis and Hy-Brasil and the Fairy Isles.
It did take me a little while to find my feet, for a couple of reasons. It wasn’t initially clear to me where this Atlantean land in which the tale unfolds was situated in time; the language and mores felt largely like those of the late middle ages (or, at any rate, with that Arthurian feel of the late middle ages from which much high fantasy takes its tone) but the references did not truly help to place it anywhere - or, rather, anywhen. It is stated that the founding family of one kingdom are also of the line that gave rise to Arthur Pendragon, although this seems to have been some time before. There is a Christian missionary, and reference is stated to the power of the church of Rome. It is, I think, deliberately vague and anachronistic, and it cased to be an issue once I was in caught up in the story.
Also early on, I had a problem with some changes of tone. At the outset the authorial voice is recognisably high fantasy, and becomes somewhat mythic or fairytale at points, but then we have a sudden shift into a rather dry chapter of historical and political exposition, before returning to the fairytale fantasy tone. Not long after this, however, I saw how the separate sections began to come together and that they were threads weaving into a greater tapestry. Vance does this quite superbly, introducing what appear to be obvious directions for the plot (obvious because of the fairytale fantasy inflection of the writing) only to immediately subvert them - and then call back much later on with an unforeseen payoff.
The characters are somewhere between mythic archetypes and actual people, something brought out by the habit of several of the magicians of the books splitting off from themselves scions, or sub-personalities, which begin as an aspect of the original but quickly develop their own characteristics.
For perhaps the first quarter of the book I was enjoying Lyonesse and thought it fine but, by the halfway point, I began to see why this is considered one of the great works of fantasy.
The novel is set in several of the divided kingdoms of the Elder Isles, placed south of Ireland and north of Iberia, roughly where the Bay of Biscay becomes the Atlantic Ocean proper, as shown with a truly terrible map. We gather from the setting and occasional footnotes that this is where so many of the myths of Europe originate; this is Atlantis and Hy-Brasil and the Fairy Isles.
It did take me a little while to find my feet, for a couple of reasons. It wasn’t initially clear to me where this Atlantean land in which the tale unfolds was situated in time; the language and mores felt largely like those of the late middle ages (or, at any rate, with that Arthurian feel of the late middle ages from which much high fantasy takes its tone) but the references did not truly help to place it anywhere - or, rather, anywhen. It is stated that the founding family of one kingdom are also of the line that gave rise to Arthur Pendragon, although this seems to have been some time before. There is a Christian missionary, and reference is stated to the power of the church of Rome. It is, I think, deliberately vague and anachronistic, and it cased to be an issue once I was in caught up in the story.
Also early on, I had a problem with some changes of tone. At the outset the authorial voice is recognisably high fantasy, and becomes somewhat mythic or fairytale at points, but then we have a sudden shift into a rather dry chapter of historical and political exposition, before returning to the fairytale fantasy tone. Not long after this, however, I saw how the separate sections began to come together and that they were threads weaving into a greater tapestry. Vance does this quite superbly, introducing what appear to be obvious directions for the plot (obvious because of the fairytale fantasy inflection of the writing) only to immediately subvert them - and then call back much later on with an unforeseen payoff.
The characters are somewhere between mythic archetypes and actual people, something brought out by the habit of several of the magicians of the books splitting off from themselves scions, or sub-personalities, which begin as an aspect of the original but quickly develop their own characteristics.
For perhaps the first quarter of the book I was enjoying Lyonesse and thought it fine but, by the halfway point, I began to see why this is considered one of the great works of fantasy.
adventurous
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Plot
Strong character development:
No
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
No
Well, the volume I have just says Lyonesse, dated 1984, before the others in the series. I really wanted to like this one, but I couldn't really get through it.
An intriguing start! It took me a little while to get into it but I'm now excited to see what the second book holds....
This is by no means for everyone, but might be worthwhile if you go into it with a proper sense of what you should expect.
Vance does a fantastic job of evoking a sense of the Celtic Otherworld, better than any other modern author I've read (The only other thing I can think of that even comes close is the Tom Bombadil sequence in Lord of the Rings). This is centered around the idea that there's a supernatural realm that it's possible for mortals to bump up against, especially in places such as forests. Supernatural entities (i.e. fairies, magic-users, pseudo-goddesses) might give the mortals some sort of quest or task to do; there tend to be horrible consequences if/when the mortals offend the supernatural by breaking their ritual rules or by desecrating nature; things are often complicated by time passing differently in the fairy world than in the regular world; and the mortals emerge from the encounter forever changed, if they emerge at all. It's often fun to follow along the heroes of such a story as they jump through ridiculous, arbitrary hoops to overcome the dangerous obstacles and monsters in their way.
This type of story is inherently episodic, with plots meandering all over the place as the Otherworld constantly complicates anyone's attempts to do any sort of planning. The best Otherworld stories, thus, are those with strong, memorable protagonists, whose random adventures you enjoy reading about and whose character arcs make up for the unavoidable lack of plot continuity. In my opinion, the single best example of this is the Irish Tain Bo Cuailnge (I am particularly fond of Thomas Kinsella's translation, simply called The Tain), in which Cuchulainn kicks ass and puts analogous mythic heroes to shame.
Such a protagonist is what this book is missing. Vance's premise is to take Game of Thrones-like political maneuvering and have it get mixed up with the Otherworld. This is actually a pretty good idea, and he handles the Otherworld part of it particularly well. But there's nothing memorable about any of the main characters---there's little personality, little depth, little reason to like them. Perhaps as a consequence of that, the story inspires little emotion, except for two scenes that are notable exceptions. In a story that deliberately has only a loose plot, this is a near-crippling problem. The Otherworld can be cool, but it becomes merely tedious when you don't care what happens to the hero.
Overall, the ideas are good, but the execution is mixed (it does get better after a particularly wretched beginning). Not essential, but enough of it is decent that it might be worth a shot if you're into Celtic mythology and/or the idea of the Otherworld
Vance does a fantastic job of evoking a sense of the Celtic Otherworld, better than any other modern author I've read (The only other thing I can think of that even comes close is the Tom Bombadil sequence in Lord of the Rings). This is centered around the idea that there's a supernatural realm that it's possible for mortals to bump up against, especially in places such as forests. Supernatural entities (i.e. fairies, magic-users, pseudo-goddesses) might give the mortals some sort of quest or task to do; there tend to be horrible consequences if/when the mortals offend the supernatural by breaking their ritual rules or by desecrating nature; things are often complicated by time passing differently in the fairy world than in the regular world; and the mortals emerge from the encounter forever changed, if they emerge at all. It's often fun to follow along the heroes of such a story as they jump through ridiculous, arbitrary hoops to overcome the dangerous obstacles and monsters in their way.
This type of story is inherently episodic, with plots meandering all over the place as the Otherworld constantly complicates anyone's attempts to do any sort of planning. The best Otherworld stories, thus, are those with strong, memorable protagonists, whose random adventures you enjoy reading about and whose character arcs make up for the unavoidable lack of plot continuity. In my opinion, the single best example of this is the Irish Tain Bo Cuailnge (I am particularly fond of Thomas Kinsella's translation, simply called The Tain), in which Cuchulainn kicks ass and puts analogous mythic heroes to shame.
Such a protagonist is what this book is missing. Vance's premise is to take Game of Thrones-like political maneuvering and have it get mixed up with the Otherworld. This is actually a pretty good idea, and he handles the Otherworld part of it particularly well. But there's nothing memorable about any of the main characters---there's little personality, little depth, little reason to like them. Perhaps as a consequence of that, the story inspires little emotion, except for two scenes that are notable exceptions. In a story that deliberately has only a loose plot, this is a near-crippling problem. The Otherworld can be cool, but it becomes merely tedious when you don't care what happens to the hero.
Overall, the ideas are good, but the execution is mixed (it does get better after a particularly wretched beginning). Not essential, but enough of it is decent that it might be worth a shot if you're into Celtic mythology and/or the idea of the Otherworld
Like reading [b:The Complete Grimm's Fairy Tales|22917|The Complete Grimm's Fairy Tales (Pantheon Fairy Tale and Folklore Library)|Jacob Grimm|http://d202m5krfqbpi5.cloudfront.net/books/1369540060s/22917.jpg|1855987] cover to cover, only more rapey.
I know a lot of people who love Jack Vance deeply, and I was impressed with his fidelity in capturing the lack of continuity, lack of character development, and totally flat affect inherent to Märchen, but I don't really see the appeal.
I know a lot of people who love Jack Vance deeply, and I was impressed with his fidelity in capturing the lack of continuity, lack of character development, and totally flat affect inherent to Märchen, but I don't really see the appeal.
Some authors have a flair for writing magic.
Not just in the fireball-casting sense, but in the sense of capturing the essence of magic as a raw power that cannot be controlled or fully known, crafting a sense of otherworldly-ness, as often seen in the dark tradition of fairy tales. Tolkien, Gaiman, Clarke, GRRM, and Vance all manage to tread this thin line, but I daresay the latter outshines most.
It seems to me that an author needs to inhabit a certain headspace in order to tap into this other realm, lacking in humanity - perhaps these authors, like the magicians in Clarke's stories, need a touch of madness themselves to express these supernatural ideas.
There's a delicious irony that the more you explain the properties of a magical system/realm, the less magical it becomes. All the mentioned authors (I'm sure there are others) weave their stories with such a deft hand that while their systems and realms remain (to various degrees) undefined, they also retain an aspect of reality: the systems feel in tune with the world they inhabit.
The fact that someone can bring the dead back to life feels just as real in such a setting as that they're eating jam for breakfast.
Jack Vance had a tremendous flair for mixing the dark and mystical with the whimsical, only equaled by Susanna Clarke, nearly always maintaining a perfect balance between the macabre and eccentric. In addition to this, Vance also had an incredible command of the English language. His use of overly formal words and phrases is the perfect weapon in his assault on the reader. You'll be completely disarmed, feeling like you're reading a Jane Austen romance, when suddenly someone is decapitated in the following paragraph.
Vance depicts scenes of utter morbidity (even more so than GRRM at times), but presents them through language that makes the scenes somehow palatable, though still harrowing. This has the effect that one is never certain the characters one favours are in mortal danger or not - like Eddison, or (again) GRRM - which makes for very compelling storytelling.
Unfortunately, Vance was better at creating interesting worlds and characters than to tell a linear, coherent story. However, the plot is serviceable, with some delightful political intrigue thrown into the mix (we even get to see the inspiration for GRRM's Vale of Arryn).
The way Vance skillfully drew on all kinds of mythology to create as magical a place as the Elder Isles, and filled it with magnificent characters like Faude Carfilhiot, King Casmir, and the Ska, is simply astonishing. This book deserves 5 stars for that feat alone.
Not just in the fireball-casting sense, but in the sense of capturing the essence of magic as a raw power that cannot be controlled or fully known, crafting a sense of otherworldly-ness, as often seen in the dark tradition of fairy tales. Tolkien, Gaiman, Clarke, GRRM, and Vance all manage to tread this thin line, but I daresay the latter outshines most.
It seems to me that an author needs to inhabit a certain headspace in order to tap into this other realm, lacking in humanity - perhaps these authors, like the magicians in Clarke's stories, need a touch of madness themselves to express these supernatural ideas.
There's a delicious irony that the more you explain the properties of a magical system/realm, the less magical it becomes. All the mentioned authors (I'm sure there are others) weave their stories with such a deft hand that while their systems and realms remain (to various degrees) undefined, they also retain an aspect of reality: the systems feel in tune with the world they inhabit.
The fact that someone can bring the dead back to life feels just as real in such a setting as that they're eating jam for breakfast.
Jack Vance had a tremendous flair for mixing the dark and mystical with the whimsical, only equaled by Susanna Clarke, nearly always maintaining a perfect balance between the macabre and eccentric. In addition to this, Vance also had an incredible command of the English language. His use of overly formal words and phrases is the perfect weapon in his assault on the reader. You'll be completely disarmed, feeling like you're reading a Jane Austen romance, when suddenly someone is decapitated in the following paragraph.
Vance depicts scenes of utter morbidity (even more so than GRRM at times), but presents them through language that makes the scenes somehow palatable, though still harrowing. This has the effect that one is never certain the characters one favours are in mortal danger or not - like Eddison, or (again) GRRM - which makes for very compelling storytelling.
Unfortunately, Vance was better at creating interesting worlds and characters than to tell a linear, coherent story. However, the plot is serviceable, with some delightful political intrigue thrown into the mix (we even get to see the inspiration for GRRM's Vale of Arryn).
The way Vance skillfully drew on all kinds of mythology to create as magical a place as the Elder Isles, and filled it with magnificent characters like Faude Carfilhiot, King Casmir, and the Ska, is simply astonishing. This book deserves 5 stars for that feat alone.
This is a combination of mythology and classic fantasy. The writing is somewhat detached as you get to know a bigger cast of characters than you might believe in the first quarter of the novel. While I thought the adventure was enjoyable, I felt that the character work was lacking. One in particular was a big letdown but I can’t complain about that without spoiling the book!