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hbdee 's review for:
Nine Princes in Amber
by Roger Zelazny
Written decades ago, this first in a series of ten novels reads in noir-style told in first person narrative by one of nine crown princes of Amber, a fantastical city somewhere on the other side of the Shadows (where Earth is located.) This prince is named Corwin, whom we first meet in a private hospital where nurses keep jabbing him with sedatives. He has amnesia and has no clue who he is or where, but he quickly realizes that nothing is wrong with his legs despite both being hobbled in casts. He shatters the casts, ignores an apparent injury to his head and escapes—but not before threatening a hospital administrator, forcing him to divulge the name and address of the person who’d committed him—and even getting a fat wad of cash from the guy!
Turns out, he visits his sister—one of a number of them. He breaks into a hidden drawer in her library and finds a deck of playing cards similar to the Tarot, only these are all his family members. The cards are magical and will enable him to reach out and physically meet anyone whose card he holds. Playing close to the vest, he learns who he is by degrees while asking vague questions that intimate he knows more than he does.
A brother named Random takes him to an underwater city somewhere near Amber where Corwin can rediscover himself by walking a ballroom floor called the Pattern. A brother named Eric will soon call himself king. Corwin confronts him in a duel:
“…I snatched things off the desk with my left hand and threw them at Eric. But he dodged everything and came on strong, and I circled to his left and all like that, but I couldn't draw the point of his blade from my left eye. And I was afraid. The man was magnificent. If I didn't hate him so, I would have applauded his performance. I kept backing away, and the fear and the knowledge came upon me: I knew I still couldn't take him. He was a better man than I was, when it came to the blade. I cursed this, but I couldn't get around it. I tried three more elaborate attacks and was defeated on each occasion. He parried me and made me retreat before his own attacks. Now don't get the wrong idea. I'm damn good. It's just that he seemed better.”
Corwin hooks up with one brother after another, amassing armies and warring on, & losing ships, while brother Eric controls the environment, hitting them with tempests. Corwin feels for all the soldiers who must die after their fleeting, small lives—he himself can remember living during the time of England’s first Queen Elizabeth.
If this goes on for ten books, I think I’d feel like the point of a blade was near my own left eye—and I might feel compelled to stick it in! The lingua franca of a previous generation fails for this modern reader, and so does the machismo kitsch. Thankfully I had less than 200 pages to wade through to make it through to the finish of Book #1.
Might’ve worked if I were a ten-year old boy, although there’s really no there, there, in which a ten-year old boy might learn something meaningful for his life.
Turns out, he visits his sister—one of a number of them. He breaks into a hidden drawer in her library and finds a deck of playing cards similar to the Tarot, only these are all his family members. The cards are magical and will enable him to reach out and physically meet anyone whose card he holds. Playing close to the vest, he learns who he is by degrees while asking vague questions that intimate he knows more than he does.
A brother named Random takes him to an underwater city somewhere near Amber where Corwin can rediscover himself by walking a ballroom floor called the Pattern. A brother named Eric will soon call himself king. Corwin confronts him in a duel:
“…I snatched things off the desk with my left hand and threw them at Eric. But he dodged everything and came on strong, and I circled to his left and all like that, but I couldn't draw the point of his blade from my left eye. And I was afraid. The man was magnificent. If I didn't hate him so, I would have applauded his performance. I kept backing away, and the fear and the knowledge came upon me: I knew I still couldn't take him. He was a better man than I was, when it came to the blade. I cursed this, but I couldn't get around it. I tried three more elaborate attacks and was defeated on each occasion. He parried me and made me retreat before his own attacks. Now don't get the wrong idea. I'm damn good. It's just that he seemed better.”
Corwin hooks up with one brother after another, amassing armies and warring on, & losing ships, while brother Eric controls the environment, hitting them with tempests. Corwin feels for all the soldiers who must die after their fleeting, small lives—he himself can remember living during the time of England’s first Queen Elizabeth.
If this goes on for ten books, I think I’d feel like the point of a blade was near my own left eye—and I might feel compelled to stick it in! The lingua franca of a previous generation fails for this modern reader, and so does the machismo kitsch. Thankfully I had less than 200 pages to wade through to make it through to the finish of Book #1.
Might’ve worked if I were a ten-year old boy, although there’s really no there, there, in which a ten-year old boy might learn something meaningful for his life.