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A review by bookclubalibi
The Last Kingdom by Bernard Cornwell
adventurous
funny
tense
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
3.75
“I am Uhtred, son of Uhtred, and this is the tale of a blood feud. It is a tale of how I will take from my enemy what the law says is mine.”
My husband read ACOTAR for me and I read this for him. I tried it first as an audiobook but struggled to follow along once I read the first two chapters and watch 4 seasons of the show I was able to learn names and resume the audiobook lol there’s a lot of Aelf-something names that confused me.
I mean the start of the book literally says
“My name is Uhtred. I am the son of Uhtred, who was the son of Uhtred and his father was also called Uhtred.” He wasn’t even Uhtred to start!
After the Danes kill his older brother who was originally his father’s son named Uhtred he got renamed and baptized with his new name.
“he just looked at his eldest son’s head and then he looked at me. “From this day on,” he said, “your name is Uhtred.” Which is how I was named. Father Beocca insisted that I should be baptized again, or else heaven would not know who I was when I arrived with the name Uhtred.”
There is a gang of characters we meet throughout the novel. Most are good to Uhtred and help him move graciously along his path.
“I thought of Ragnar the Younger and wondered if he lived, and whether his father’s killer, Kjartan, still lived, and how he would die if he did, and thinking of Ragnar made me remember Brida, and her memory slid on to an image of Mildrith, and that brought to mind Alfred and his bitter wife, Ælswith,”
“those separate people were a part of my life, strings strung on the frame of Uhtred, and though they were separate they affected one another and together they would make the music of my life”
Alfred the King
“my king and all that I have I owe to him. The food that I eat, the hall where I live, and the swords of my men, all came from Alfred, my king, who hated me.”
Father Beocca
“my father’s clerk and our mass priest, prayed every Sunday to spare us from the fury of the Northmen, but that fury had passed me by.”
“His b’s don’t buzz and his i’s—” He stopped, suddenly embarrassed. He had been about to say my i’s were crossed, then he remembered Beocca and he looked contrite. “My dear Beocca.” “No offense, my lord, no offense.”
Ragnar the elder
Who kidnapped Uhtred but treated him as a son
Ragnar the younger
I pushed the bag toward him and made myself instantly poor. Ragnar pushed it back without a thought, making me rich again. “My father loved you, too,” he said, “and I am wealthy enough.”
Brida was by far my favorite character. The most badass indeed.
“I wept for Brida. I felt hurt. I was too young to know how
to take abandonment. During the night I had tried to persuade her to stay, but she had a will as strong as Ealdwulf’s iron, and she had gone with Ragnar into the dawn mist and left me weeping.”
I could get down with the Danes and their lifestyle. It was fun learning all the bad ass names of their swords. I continuously cringed at the Christians and their blind zealousness to convert the Danes.
“You have to stand in a barrel of water,” I said, remembering how Beocca had baptized me after my brother’s death, “and they pour more water over you.” “They want to wash me?” Ubba asked, astonished. I shrugged. “That’s what they do, lord.” “You will become Christians!” Edmund said, then shot me an irritated look. “We can baptize in the river, boy. Barrels are not necessary.” “They want to wash you in the river,” I explained to Ivar and Ubba, and the Danes laughed. Ivar thought about it. Standing in a river for a few minutes was not such a bad thing, especially if it meant he could hurry back to quell whatever trouble afflicted Northumbria. “I can go on worshipping Odin once I’m washed?” he asked. “Of course not!” Edmund said angrily. “There is only one god!” “There are many gods,” Ivar snapped back, “many! Everyone knows that.” “There is only one god, and you must serve him.” “But we’re winning,” Ivar explained patiently, almost as if he talked to a child, “which means our gods are beating your one god.”
“Your gods are false gods,” he said. “They are turds of the devil, they are evil things who will bring darkness to the world, while our god is great, he is all powerful, he is magnificent.” “Show me,” Ivar said. Those two words brought silence. The king, his priests, and his monks all stared at Ivar in evident puzzlement. “Prove it,” Ivar said, and his Danes murmured their support of the idea. King Edmund blinked, evidently lost for inspiration, then had a sudden idea and pointed at the leather panel on which was painted Saint Sebastian’s experience of being an archer’s target. “Our god spared the blessed Saint Sebastian from death by arrows,” Edmund said, “which is proof enough, is it not?” “But the man still died,” Ivar pointed out. “Only because that was God’s will.” Ivar thought about that. “So would your god protect you from my arrows?” He asked. “If it is his will, yes.” “So let’s try,” Ivar proposed. “We shall shoot arrows at you, and if you survive then we’ll all be washed.” Edmund stared at the Dane, wondering if he was serious, then looked nervous when he saw that Ivar was not joking. The king opened his mouth, found he had nothing to say, and closed it again, then one of his tonsured monks murmured to him and he must have been trying to persuade the king that God was suggesting this ordeal in order to extend his church, and that a miracle would result, and the Danes would become Christians and we would all be friends and end up singing together on the high platform in heaven. The king did not look entirely convinced by this argument, if that was indeed what the monk was proposing, but the Danes wanted to attempt the miracle now and it was no longer up to Edmund to accept or refuse the trial.
Noteable quotes
Our men began beating weapons on their shields and that was a fearsome sound, the first time I ever heard an army making that war music
“All he cares about is rutting girls, which is good! Don’t tell Sigrid I said that, but there’s nothing wrong with unsheathing the sword when you can, but Alfred spends half his time rutting and the other half praying to his god to forgive him for rutting. How can a god disapprove of a good hump?”
men who embraced battle like a lover.
I said nothing. What is the point of protesting when the executioner’s sword is in midswing? “Her name
“The devil has opened his bowels,” my father greeted her.
The Danes love their ships. A ship, they say, is like a woman or a sword, sharp and beautiful, worth dying for, and certainly worth fighting for,
Life is just life. We live, we die, we go to the corpse hall. There is no music, just chance. Fate is relentless.
He was there, Ælfric the Treacherous, thin faced, dark haired, gazing at me from the Low Gate, and I stared up at him so he would know who I was, and then I threw Weland’s severed head onto the ground where my brother’s head had once been thrown. I followed it with the silver coins. I threw thirty coins. The Judas price. I remembered that church tale. It was one of the few that I had liked. There were archers on the wall, but none drew. They just watched. I gave my uncle the evil sign, the devil’s horns made with the two outer fingers, and then I spat at him, turned, and trotted away. He knew I was alive now, knew I was his enemy, and knew I would kill him like a dog if ever I had the chance.
My husband read ACOTAR for me and I read this for him. I tried it first as an audiobook but struggled to follow along once I read the first two chapters and watch 4 seasons of the show I was able to learn names and resume the audiobook lol there’s a lot of Aelf-something names that confused me.
I mean the start of the book literally says
“My name is Uhtred. I am the son of Uhtred, who was the son of Uhtred and his father was also called Uhtred.” He wasn’t even Uhtred to start!
After the Danes kill his older brother who was originally his father’s son named Uhtred he got renamed and baptized with his new name.
“he just looked at his eldest son’s head and then he looked at me. “From this day on,” he said, “your name is Uhtred.” Which is how I was named. Father Beocca insisted that I should be baptized again, or else heaven would not know who I was when I arrived with the name Uhtred.”
There is a gang of characters we meet throughout the novel. Most are good to Uhtred and help him move graciously along his path.
“I thought of Ragnar the Younger and wondered if he lived, and whether his father’s killer, Kjartan, still lived, and how he would die if he did, and thinking of Ragnar made me remember Brida, and her memory slid on to an image of Mildrith, and that brought to mind Alfred and his bitter wife, Ælswith,”
“those separate people were a part of my life, strings strung on the frame of Uhtred, and though they were separate they affected one another and together they would make the music of my life”
Alfred the King
“my king and all that I have I owe to him. The food that I eat, the hall where I live, and the swords of my men, all came from Alfred, my king, who hated me.”
Father Beocca
“my father’s clerk and our mass priest, prayed every Sunday to spare us from the fury of the Northmen, but that fury had passed me by.”
“His b’s don’t buzz and his i’s—” He stopped, suddenly embarrassed. He had been about to say my i’s were crossed, then he remembered Beocca and he looked contrite. “My dear Beocca.” “No offense, my lord, no offense.”
Ragnar the elder
Who kidnapped Uhtred but treated him as a son
Ragnar the younger
I pushed the bag toward him and made myself instantly poor. Ragnar pushed it back without a thought, making me rich again. “My father loved you, too,” he said, “and I am wealthy enough.”
Brida was by far my favorite character. The most badass indeed.
“I wept for Brida. I felt hurt. I was too young to know how
to take abandonment. During the night I had tried to persuade her to stay, but she had a will as strong as Ealdwulf’s iron, and she had gone with Ragnar into the dawn mist and left me weeping.”
I could get down with the Danes and their lifestyle. It was fun learning all the bad ass names of their swords. I continuously cringed at the Christians and their blind zealousness to convert the Danes.
“You have to stand in a barrel of water,” I said, remembering how Beocca had baptized me after my brother’s death, “and they pour more water over you.” “They want to wash me?” Ubba asked, astonished. I shrugged. “That’s what they do, lord.” “You will become Christians!” Edmund said, then shot me an irritated look. “We can baptize in the river, boy. Barrels are not necessary.” “They want to wash you in the river,” I explained to Ivar and Ubba, and the Danes laughed. Ivar thought about it. Standing in a river for a few minutes was not such a bad thing, especially if it meant he could hurry back to quell whatever trouble afflicted Northumbria. “I can go on worshipping Odin once I’m washed?” he asked. “Of course not!” Edmund said angrily. “There is only one god!” “There are many gods,” Ivar snapped back, “many! Everyone knows that.” “There is only one god, and you must serve him.” “But we’re winning,” Ivar explained patiently, almost as if he talked to a child, “which means our gods are beating your one god.”
“Your gods are false gods,” he said. “They are turds of the devil, they are evil things who will bring darkness to the world, while our god is great, he is all powerful, he is magnificent.” “Show me,” Ivar said. Those two words brought silence. The king, his priests, and his monks all stared at Ivar in evident puzzlement. “Prove it,” Ivar said, and his Danes murmured their support of the idea. King Edmund blinked, evidently lost for inspiration, then had a sudden idea and pointed at the leather panel on which was painted Saint Sebastian’s experience of being an archer’s target. “Our god spared the blessed Saint Sebastian from death by arrows,” Edmund said, “which is proof enough, is it not?” “But the man still died,” Ivar pointed out. “Only because that was God’s will.” Ivar thought about that. “So would your god protect you from my arrows?” He asked. “If it is his will, yes.” “So let’s try,” Ivar proposed. “We shall shoot arrows at you, and if you survive then we’ll all be washed.” Edmund stared at the Dane, wondering if he was serious, then looked nervous when he saw that Ivar was not joking. The king opened his mouth, found he had nothing to say, and closed it again, then one of his tonsured monks murmured to him and he must have been trying to persuade the king that God was suggesting this ordeal in order to extend his church, and that a miracle would result, and the Danes would become Christians and we would all be friends and end up singing together on the high platform in heaven. The king did not look entirely convinced by this argument, if that was indeed what the monk was proposing, but the Danes wanted to attempt the miracle now and it was no longer up to Edmund to accept or refuse the trial.
Noteable quotes
Our men began beating weapons on their shields and that was a fearsome sound, the first time I ever heard an army making that war music
“All he cares about is rutting girls, which is good! Don’t tell Sigrid I said that, but there’s nothing wrong with unsheathing the sword when you can, but Alfred spends half his time rutting and the other half praying to his god to forgive him for rutting. How can a god disapprove of a good hump?”
men who embraced battle like a lover.
I said nothing. What is the point of protesting when the executioner’s sword is in midswing? “Her name
“The devil has opened his bowels,” my father greeted her.
The Danes love their ships. A ship, they say, is like a woman or a sword, sharp and beautiful, worth dying for, and certainly worth fighting for,
Life is just life. We live, we die, we go to the corpse hall. There is no music, just chance. Fate is relentless.
He was there, Ælfric the Treacherous, thin faced, dark haired, gazing at me from the Low Gate, and I stared up at him so he would know who I was, and then I threw Weland’s severed head onto the ground where my brother’s head had once been thrown. I followed it with the silver coins. I threw thirty coins. The Judas price. I remembered that church tale. It was one of the few that I had liked. There were archers on the wall, but none drew. They just watched. I gave my uncle the evil sign, the devil’s horns made with the two outer fingers, and then I spat at him, turned, and trotted away. He knew I was alive now, knew I was his enemy, and knew I would kill him like a dog if ever I had the chance.