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One of the things as a reviewer I try to do – I think we all do - is leave our preconceptions behind when starting a book. In fact, I would say as a reader one of the greatest feelings is that of the possibilities a new book or a debut author may potentially offer. (The other is at the end of a book when you think that the potential has been reached, or even exceeded.)
However, there are admittedly times when this is difficult – the next book in a series usually has a certain degree of expectation, or perhaps the unpleasant details of an author that have come to light may influence the reading of their work, for example.
Despite efforts not to make it so, personal preferences sometimes emerge. Having read hundreds of books for review, not to mention for pleasure, I find these days the mention of certain elements tend to make me - well, not perhaps wince, but wary. One of those for me is the use of gods and religion, particularly when they take centre-stage. Nothing against them, but I just think that I’ve read too many fantasy books involving them and there’s little else for me to find original about them.
Why is this important? Well, Hannah’s debut novel is based around gods and their removal. Can you see my dilemma? This might explain why it’s taken me a while to get to this one. It has been two years. Since being published in 2023, this book and its sequel have been bestsellers, and the third book is due to be published as this review goes online.
The story centres around four main characters, for which different chapters are written. Of these the most developed is that of Kissen, a bisexual godkiller with a traumatic background that led to the death of her family and her losing a leg to Osidisen, an ancient god, when younger.
She is counterpointed by Elogast (name often annoyingly shortened to ‘Elo’, which kept me thinking of that most British of greetings!) a young ex-knight who now lives incognito as a baker. Elo is sworn to helping his friend King Arren when he requests a boon – to travel to the destroyed city of Blenraden and beg for a favour from the gods – even when Arren is sworn to killing those same gods.
Kissen then meets Inara, a young teenage girl whose noble family has also been killed, possibly whilst searching for her. To Kissen’s horror, Inara is bound to a relatively minor god – Skediceth, aka Skedi, a god of white lies, whose attachment can only be detached by a major god. Kissen feels some sympathy with Inara’s plight, and so agrees to also travel with Elogast to Blenraden where Inara and Skedi can be disconnected without either of them dying.
When the characters have been introduced, they then begin a quest to Blenraden, with our four travelling in secret in a pilgrim train. They are followed and attacked along the way by many shadow monsters.
Much of this may sound familiar if you’ve read fantasy before.
Let’s begin with the positives. The characterisation is great – Kissen is by turns scary and sweary, but whose gruff exterior hides personal turmoil. Elo is a fairly traditional hero type character, full of regret and enthusiasm, determined to do the right thing, but who is also suffering with some form of PTSD. Inara is a young innocent with a certain degree of steel in her mettle. Even Skedi, a god in a world where gods are unwelcome, is often engaging.
The idea of a multitude of gods, from major ones like the gods of fire and water to minor ones like the god of broken sandals was an unusual one and one I liked.
On the downside, I found that the pace was a little uneven. The book starts well but I found the middle a bit of a slog. The quest picked up the pace a little, but the ending by comparison seemed to happen very quickly.
As much as I appreciated the inclusivity that is clearly an important part of the book, the way it was done in the story felt a little clumsy and unsubtle. Similarly, the spicy romance near the end was awkward, and not really the time or place for it. I also found that the reappearance of some characters seemed to occur for no real reason except to emphasise that convenient coincidences happen.
In summary, upon finishing Godkiller, I was pleased that I read this and yet was reminded that this was the work of a debut author. Godkiller shows both the enthusiasm and intensity of a new writer with a tale to tell, but also has the odd moment where things didn’t quite seem to work for me. There was a lot I liked, but it was not the debut achievement I had hoped for.
However, there are admittedly times when this is difficult – the next book in a series usually has a certain degree of expectation, or perhaps the unpleasant details of an author that have come to light may influence the reading of their work, for example.
Despite efforts not to make it so, personal preferences sometimes emerge. Having read hundreds of books for review, not to mention for pleasure, I find these days the mention of certain elements tend to make me - well, not perhaps wince, but wary. One of those for me is the use of gods and religion, particularly when they take centre-stage. Nothing against them, but I just think that I’ve read too many fantasy books involving them and there’s little else for me to find original about them.
Why is this important? Well, Hannah’s debut novel is based around gods and their removal. Can you see my dilemma? This might explain why it’s taken me a while to get to this one. It has been two years. Since being published in 2023, this book and its sequel have been bestsellers, and the third book is due to be published as this review goes online.
The story centres around four main characters, for which different chapters are written. Of these the most developed is that of Kissen, a bisexual godkiller with a traumatic background that led to the death of her family and her losing a leg to Osidisen, an ancient god, when younger.
She is counterpointed by Elogast (name often annoyingly shortened to ‘Elo’, which kept me thinking of that most British of greetings!) a young ex-knight who now lives incognito as a baker. Elo is sworn to helping his friend King Arren when he requests a boon – to travel to the destroyed city of Blenraden and beg for a favour from the gods – even when Arren is sworn to killing those same gods.
Kissen then meets Inara, a young teenage girl whose noble family has also been killed, possibly whilst searching for her. To Kissen’s horror, Inara is bound to a relatively minor god – Skediceth, aka Skedi, a god of white lies, whose attachment can only be detached by a major god. Kissen feels some sympathy with Inara’s plight, and so agrees to also travel with Elogast to Blenraden where Inara and Skedi can be disconnected without either of them dying.
When the characters have been introduced, they then begin a quest to Blenraden, with our four travelling in secret in a pilgrim train. They are followed and attacked along the way by many shadow monsters.
Much of this may sound familiar if you’ve read fantasy before.
Let’s begin with the positives. The characterisation is great – Kissen is by turns scary and sweary, but whose gruff exterior hides personal turmoil. Elo is a fairly traditional hero type character, full of regret and enthusiasm, determined to do the right thing, but who is also suffering with some form of PTSD. Inara is a young innocent with a certain degree of steel in her mettle. Even Skedi, a god in a world where gods are unwelcome, is often engaging.
The idea of a multitude of gods, from major ones like the gods of fire and water to minor ones like the god of broken sandals was an unusual one and one I liked.
On the downside, I found that the pace was a little uneven. The book starts well but I found the middle a bit of a slog. The quest picked up the pace a little, but the ending by comparison seemed to happen very quickly.
As much as I appreciated the inclusivity that is clearly an important part of the book, the way it was done in the story felt a little clumsy and unsubtle. Similarly, the spicy romance near the end was awkward, and not really the time or place for it. I also found that the reappearance of some characters seemed to occur for no real reason except to emphasise that convenient coincidences happen.
In summary, upon finishing Godkiller, I was pleased that I read this and yet was reminded that this was the work of a debut author. Godkiller shows both the enthusiasm and intensity of a new writer with a tale to tell, but also has the odd moment where things didn’t quite seem to work for me. There was a lot I liked, but it was not the debut achievement I had hoped for.