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A review by edmundsson
A Day of Fallen Night by Samantha Shannon
adventurous
emotional
hopeful
inspiring
reflective
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.75
Amidst a flood of uninspired, superficially and sloppily crafted fantasy works, A Day of Fallen Night - like its predecessor The Priory of the Orange Tree - holds the torch of quality high, and in some respects, even manages to surpass the first installment.
This epic succeeds in giving a truly diverse cast of protagonists room to unfold with dignity and emotional depth within a world built with remarkable grandeur. Every loss, every relationship and turning point draws us further into this world, so full of life and vitality.
Despite its parallels to works like A Song of Ice and Fire, it feels thoroughly original and distinct - allowing it to tackle certain themes that, in parts, might not be as clearly articulated in other fantasy settings:
1. Religion
In the world of A Day of Fallen Night, we encounter several religions, each of them convinced - in one way or another - that they alone hold the key to saving the world, and that this truth must, if necessary, be imposed on others by force. From the belief in the Berethnet bloodline in Inys to the Priory, which - ironically - is based on the very same story, just interpreted differently.
Faith drives people in this world to turn against each other rather than uniting (the connection between Dumai and Glorian hints at this wasted potential). At the same time, it also leads them to willingly harm themselves — as seen with the pregnant women who refuse food for the sake of Glorian and Sabran, or the complete instrumentalization of the youngest Berethnet generation.
2. Power, Blood, Patriarchy?
George R. R. Martin’s world, previously mentioned, explores similar mechanisms of how religion operates. However, A Day of Fallen Night makes it even clearer that the abuse of religion to maintain power is an inherent issue - one that, despite its undeniable reinforcement by patriarchy, cannot be simply reduced to it. Either this, or that patriarchal logic, in this sense, is by no means limited to men.
The power wielded mostly by women in this deeply queer world is not exempt from coercion around reproduction for the sake of preserving a "valuable bloodline," nor from the normative control of female bodies. The religious practices that stem from this serve not only to maintain internal power structures, but also - as already hinted - to marginalize potential allies from the outside. Wulf incapsulates this dynamic as he tells Thrit as well as us: "We could start by not scorning one another for our beliefs, or lack of them."
Even the comparatively moderate Priory follows a similar logic which, in its darker dynamics, calls to mind the Bene Gesserit from Dune.
3. Chaos (?)
Few fantasy works I know manage to establish such an ambiguous, almost paradoxical relationship to the concept of "chaos" as A Day of Fallen Night. While the Wyrm attacks and the destruction they bring are perceived by humans as chaos, the Eastern dragons suggest a harmony between these powerful beings' antagonistic forces - where the dominance of one is always followed by that of the other.
Here too, differing uses of magic (e.g., Tunuva) lead to misunderstandings, as patterns of thinking have become deeply ingrained.
Meanwhile, age-old rites and traditions are increasingly hollowed out (Sabran’s conception) or outright ignored (Glorian’s decision to enter the battlefield) the longer the "chaos" endures - because they exist within a paradox, merely providing the illusion of stability, which in turn upholds very real power structures.
All of this points to a message as simple as it is relevant: where dynamics, customs, and forces are not understood, they are perceived as chaos. And where order is sought (a human-made order), it often turns out to be nothing more than a facade - one that requires belief, just like religion does.
4. “Love is the death of duty”
Fittingly, this quote from the aforementioned A Song of Ice and Fire series kept coming back to me from about the second third of the book onward. Because outside of Martin's universe, there are few characters who embody the truth of this statement as profoundly as Glorian and Dumai.
Glorian grows up with an emotionally distant mother who primarily sees her as the heir to her name and duties. Later, she is denied the chance to experience love and intimacy on her own terms. In service of her duty to Inys, she agrees to a marriage that she deeply abhors. Her compromise with Wulf as the father of her child - kept as a secret rather than an oath - is the closest she ever comes to love.
Dumai, on the other hand, struggles throughout much of the book with her feelings for Nikeya, refusing to act on them because her formerly estranged family's political plans demand hostility toward Nikeya's clan. We get brief glimpses of what her dream might mean as she searches for happiness and chooses to reject the struggle for the throne. But as her responsibility for Seiiki becomes heavier, she steps directly into the confrontation she had hoped to leave behind. Even when she falls, she consciously chooses Seiiki's well-being over her love for Nikeya, performing a sacrifice that marks the most tragic moment in the book. Her happiness was meant to be only a brief dream—nomen est omen.
A thoroughly vibrant, rich novel that speaks to our world while creating one that feels lived-in and alive.
What more could one really expect from fantasy?
This epic succeeds in giving a truly diverse cast of protagonists room to unfold with dignity and emotional depth within a world built with remarkable grandeur. Every loss, every relationship and turning point draws us further into this world, so full of life and vitality.
Despite its parallels to works like A Song of Ice and Fire, it feels thoroughly original and distinct - allowing it to tackle certain themes that, in parts, might not be as clearly articulated in other fantasy settings:
1. Religion
In the world of A Day of Fallen Night, we encounter several religions, each of them convinced - in one way or another - that they alone hold the key to saving the world, and that this truth must, if necessary, be imposed on others by force. From the belief in the Berethnet bloodline in Inys to the Priory, which - ironically - is based on the very same story, just interpreted differently.
Faith drives people in this world to turn against each other rather than uniting (the connection between Dumai and Glorian hints at this wasted potential). At the same time, it also leads them to willingly harm themselves — as seen with the pregnant women who refuse food for the sake of Glorian and Sabran, or the complete instrumentalization of the youngest Berethnet generation.
2. Power, Blood, Patriarchy?
George R. R. Martin’s world, previously mentioned, explores similar mechanisms of how religion operates. However, A Day of Fallen Night makes it even clearer that the abuse of religion to maintain power is an inherent issue - one that, despite its undeniable reinforcement by patriarchy, cannot be simply reduced to it. Either this, or that patriarchal logic, in this sense, is by no means limited to men.
The power wielded mostly by women in this deeply queer world is not exempt from coercion around reproduction for the sake of preserving a "valuable bloodline," nor from the normative control of female bodies. The religious practices that stem from this serve not only to maintain internal power structures, but also - as already hinted - to marginalize potential allies from the outside. Wulf incapsulates this dynamic as he tells Thrit as well as us: "We could start by not scorning one another for our beliefs, or lack of them."
Even the comparatively moderate Priory follows a similar logic which, in its darker dynamics, calls to mind the Bene Gesserit from Dune.
3. Chaos (?)
Few fantasy works I know manage to establish such an ambiguous, almost paradoxical relationship to the concept of "chaos" as A Day of Fallen Night. While the Wyrm attacks and the destruction they bring are perceived by humans as chaos, the Eastern dragons suggest a harmony between these powerful beings' antagonistic forces - where the dominance of one is always followed by that of the other.
Here too, differing uses of magic (e.g., Tunuva) lead to misunderstandings, as patterns of thinking have become deeply ingrained.
Meanwhile, age-old rites and traditions are increasingly hollowed out (Sabran’s conception) or outright ignored (Glorian’s decision to enter the battlefield) the longer the "chaos" endures - because they exist within a paradox, merely providing the illusion of stability, which in turn upholds very real power structures.
All of this points to a message as simple as it is relevant: where dynamics, customs, and forces are not understood, they are perceived as chaos. And where order is sought (a human-made order), it often turns out to be nothing more than a facade - one that requires belief, just like religion does.
4. “Love is the death of duty”
Fittingly, this quote from the aforementioned A Song of Ice and Fire series kept coming back to me from about the second third of the book onward. Because outside of Martin's universe, there are few characters who embody the truth of this statement as profoundly as Glorian and Dumai.
Glorian grows up with an emotionally distant mother who primarily sees her as the heir to her name and duties. Later, she is denied the chance to experience love and intimacy on her own terms. In service of her duty to Inys, she agrees to a marriage that she deeply abhors. Her compromise with Wulf as the father of her child - kept as a secret rather than an oath - is the closest she ever comes to love.
Dumai, on the other hand, struggles throughout much of the book with her feelings for Nikeya, refusing to act on them because her formerly estranged family's political plans demand hostility toward Nikeya's clan. We get brief glimpses of what her dream might mean as she searches for happiness and chooses to reject the struggle for the throne. But as her responsibility for Seiiki becomes heavier, she steps directly into the confrontation she had hoped to leave behind. Even when she falls, she consciously chooses Seiiki's well-being over her love for Nikeya, performing a sacrifice that marks the most tragic moment in the book. Her happiness was meant to be only a brief dream—nomen est omen.
A thoroughly vibrant, rich novel that speaks to our world while creating one that feels lived-in and alive.
What more could one really expect from fantasy?