Tuesday, December 4, 2007

C.L. Wilson: Lord of the Fading Lands

Erin Galloway of Dorchester Publishing was nice enough to send me an advance copy of Lord of the Fading Lands. I’m glad she did--Wilson has a gift for storytelling, and her prose is polished. I was disappointed by the book’s reliance on well-used tropes: the romance is straight out of Christine Feehan’s Carpathian playbook and the fantasy setting is more detailed than innovative. Nonetheless, for a debut novel it’s striking, and I’ll try another book sometime.

Rainier Tairen Soul, King of the Fey, is several thousand years old and a part-time fire-breathing giant winged cat. The last time he ventured out of the Fading Lands, he destroyed half a continent. Now a vision sends him back into the world, seeking a future for his people.

Ellysetta Baristani is the adopted daughter of a woodcarver in stodgy, pious, unmagical Celieria. Ellie appears to be simply a preternaturally nice mortal girl, but Rain recognizes her instantly as his other half. Women don't get to choose their marriages in this world, so it's up to Rain to convince the Celierian king to release Ellie from another man’s claim. Claiming Ellie and politicking distract Rain from investigating a nebulous conspiracy, but it appears that that conflict will happen in a later book.

Alpha and orphan

Ellie and Rain are familiar romance character types—so familiar that based on an excerpt, Laura Vivanco pegged the characters:
the hero was a type I’d read many times before. He’s the most powerful male in the world, he’s capable of violent rages, he has a very tortured past and he falls in love with an innocent, much younger woman. He’s so possessive he frightens her, and he reacts instantly to any threat (perceived or real) against her….

The heroine’s an orphan who’s something of an ugly duckling (perceived as ugly by her adoptive culture, coming into her own power), under threat and in need of rescue…
Wilson sometimes sacrifices character development for reinforcement of these standard traits. Instead of how Rain reacts to the world, we’re told what he wears; instead of who he is now, we get his powers, his tragic history, and generalizations about the Fey.

The built-up world

Wilson’s attention to detail is laudable, but sometimes less might be more. For example, an important courtroom scene includes a lengthy description1 of Rain’s clothes. It doesn’t say anything new—we know he's handsome, wealthy, and powerful—so rather than the fashion report, I’d like to see the legal and political interludes developed farther. These scenes are crucial to illuminate inter-kingdom politics, and to explain the villains. (The evil Mages merit more discussion--thus far, they're simplistic villains for villainy's sake.)

Sci fi and fantasy author M John Harrison propounds a different approach to worldbuilding:
Every moment of a science fiction story must represent the triumph of writing over worldbuilding. […] Worldbuilding numbs the reader’s ability to fulfil their part of the bargain, because it believes that it has to do everything around here if anything is going to get done.

Above all, worldbuilding is not technically necessary. It is the great clomping foot of nerdism. It is the attempt to exhaustively survey a place that isn’t there.
and
Substitute imagination for exhaustiveness, and inventiveness for research.
Harrison is often provocative, and here he stakes out an extreme view, but I agree to a large extent. Not every world must be built the same way, but in Fading Lands I wanted a better balance of emotional and political explication versus décor. The detailed description also slows down some key scenes, which may be one reason some readers find Fading Lands slow going.

Truemates, lifemates, fated love

In the Elloran world, fate and race determine much of the characters’ lives. Every Fey character is noble and gifted; every Celierian character is ordinary. This robs the diplomatic conflict of tension: the Celierians are too far outclassed by the Fey. Ellie’s special qualities are evidently due to her non-Celierian blood; even her father’s business success has a non-Celierian cause. The Celierian women come off particularly poorly. Their lives are dictated by fate, race, and whichever man claims them, and they’re not notably charming, admirable, intelligent, or honorable: they’re perfect pawns for the men of the story.

The lack of outstanding female characters, and the emphasis on fate, are also clear in the romance. Wilson says her “truemates” concept is not the same as Feehan’s “lifemates”. I see no essential difference between the two, though some readers disagree with me. Like Feehan’s Carpathians, Fey men are fearsome warriors, but each kill adds darkness to their souls, gradually deadening their emotions. Like the Carpathians, Fey women are gentle; Ellie fits right in, as her sweetness heals all wounds and even inspires a Fey bodyguard to pledge himself to her. (It’s a little much; not even Feehan’s women save the souls of men other than their mates.) Like Feehan's Carpathians, there's some lip service given to the importance of the woman making an emotional choice but the outcome is never in serious doubt.

Fading Lands also reminds me of Ann Maxwell (Elizabeth Lowell)’s Timeshadow Rider (1986), a space-fantasy romance about a made-for-each-other couple from an all-powerful race with an animalistic side. However, Maxwell’s book is explicitly about overcoming cultural conditioning and sets up a more clearly worked-out tension between fate and choice.

Wilson is a good storyteller, and I enjoyed Fading Lands, though I found it heavy on genre clichés. Many romance readers will enjoy the alpha male/sweet female relationship, but on the fantasy side the mythology and characterization seem rather standard and un-innovative. It didn't strike the sweet spot for me, but it was an engaging read.

Grade: B-
(I'd give it a C+ for carrying forward so many bad-old-days-of-fantasy conventions, but it's really no worse than average in that regard. Besides, it's a B+ for storytelling. Storytelling and voice mean a lot to me.)



1 From Chapter 6:
Tall, lean, and searingly handsome, Rainier vel’En Daris exuded the dark, dangerous beauty and mystery of the Fey race as he strode down the blue carpet. His black leather tunic and snug leggings seemed to absorb light, while his bristling collection of Fey blades were so highly polished that they reflected light back with almost blinding intensity. Black boots, tooled with scarlet and purple tairen, crossed the length of the throne room in smooth, ground-eating strides. A scarlet sash embroidered with taired worked in gold thread draped from his left shoulder to his right hip, just below one of the two crossed bands of Fey’cha daggers, while a chain made of fist-sized squares of gold, each set with large Tairen’s Eye crystals, hung from one shoulder to the other. A golden crown circled his head, each of its six points topped with a small globe of priceless Tairen’s Eye crystal. Even without the crown, no one who saw him could fail to recognize he was a King. He carried power as effortlessly as his broad shoulders carried the purple-lined black cape that billowed out behind him.


8 Comments:

Tumperkin said...

Always enjoy your reviews RfP. This is a (sub?)-genre (fantasy romance?) I don't read. But I'm intrigued. If I was to try one book of this type, what would be your recommendation?

RfP said...

Thanks, Tumperkin. I'm glad you're intrigued--I hoped my review wasn't off-puttingly critical. I would recommend Fading Lands to some, with reservations because of the old-school feel.

Hmm, one book? I haven't fallen in love with much from this subgenre. Also, it depends whether you want a true genre fantasy/romance blend. I have more luck going a little outside the genre lately.

There are several good stories (not genre romance) in the Best New Paranormal Romance anthology (review). That's the low-commitment option.

I'm head-over-heels for Elizabeth Hand's Mortal Love--fantastic, with a romantic ending, but not genre fantasy, not romance. (Review in progress.)

Genre fantasy/romance blends:

Emma Holly's Prince of Ice (review) and Demon books are steampunk fantasy erotic romance.

Or for the genuine old-school version of Fading Lands, the Ann Maxwell books I mentioned. They're old, with big emoting (vintage Elizabeth Lowell), but surprisingly deliberate about female roles. Ye takes yer chances on it being potentially old-school intense but potentially cheesy.

Meriam said...

I wasn't going to read your review because I shy away from reviews of books I'm planning to read. BUT, I gave in and now I think I might give this series a miss.

You mentioned the Carpathians - DEAR GOD, I hate those books. I've only read one and a half, but they were seriously off-putting. The fact that the heroines could not physically survive a separation from their mate, the idea that they have no choice in the mating, the characters themselves: Unh. Loathsome!

So then I went on to read the extract you linked to. And - where to begin? She hates her full red lips and her thick red hair and her generous curves? We've all got our crosses to bear.

Every Fey character is noble and gifted; every Celierian character is ordinary.

And this is just lazy.

The central relationship would have to be extremely well done for me to buy into this. Mortal Love sounds good, though.

RfP said...

You mentioned the Carpathians.... The heroines could not physically survive a separation from their mate, the idea that they have no choice in the mating

That's part of the reason I haven't fallen in love with paranormal/fantasy romance. There are too many stories about instant soulmates. My objection isn't that it's anti-free will or anti-feminist; I tire of the way it can decrease tension in the story. It's also usually set up so the heroine can't win, so her protests are futile and can sound whiny. (That's a discussion in itself.)

I went on to read the extract you linked to. And - where to begin? She hates her full red lips and her thick red hair and her generous curves? We've all got our crosses to bear.

It's interesting how thoroughly Wilson telegraphs the setup, the character types, and the relationship in a 25-page excerpt. Those types were remarkably consistent throughout. (That's both praise and criticism.)

The central relationship would have to be extremely well done for me to buy into this.

For some romance readers, the alpha male/innocent but feisty young woman setup may be satisfying in itself. I felt Rain could have been more developed as an individual (apart from being a truemate), and the relationship was just getting off the ground as the book ended. A more leisurely pacing could develop the relationship more credibly. I didn't read the second book, so I can't say whether that was the case.

Radish said...

It's rare that I'll re-visit a post. But this compels me:

Ellie’s special qualities are evidently due to her non-Celierian blood; even her father’s business success has a non-Celierian cause. The Celierian women come off particularly poorly. Their lives are dictated by fate, race, and whichever man claims them, and they’re not notably charming, admirable, intelligent, or honorable: they’re perfect pawns for the men of the story.

This attitude and approach by certain writers and story-tellers bugs me, that a woman can excel and rise above her circumstances only because of a mystical or hereditary 'specialness', that aspirations and efforts and determination play no part in the evolution of the character as a person.

Yeah, and George Lucas's midi-cholorians pissed me off, too.

RfP said...

I hadn't thought of the Star Wars parallel, but it's apt:
"Instead of being able to use the Force out of belief, the first prequel revealed that only those who have a high concentration of 'mitochlorions' in their cells can use these powers.... Rather than being true believers, the Jedi are in fact a master race or elite caste."

Though in real life, sometimes the biological determinists have the cause and effect backward. A commenter on gender and character pointed out that sometimes environment or personality can change physical structures in the body/brain, not only vice versa.

This attitude... bugs me, that a woman can excel and rise above her circumstances only because of a mystical or hereditary 'specialness', that aspirations and efforts and determination play no part in the evolution of the character as a person

In this case a whole race got the shaft, genetically speaking, but yes--the women were even worse off. One could argue that it's satisfying to reward the good and the beautiful. However, when perfection is the norm for the central couple and everyone else of their race/gender/class/etc, I think the "reward" argument falls apart.

Laura Vivanco said...

This attitude and approach by certain writers and story-tellers bugs me, that a woman can excel and rise above her circumstances only because of a mystical or hereditary 'specialness'

I'd agree that there are quite a lot of stories about a "lost heir" whose noble origins are discernable in his/her innate grace, intelligence, beauty etc. The Princess on the Pea is like that: only princesses are so special they bruise easily. Cinderella's another one with superior genes (in this case made manifest via her extremely tiny feet) which set her apart from the usurping, less aristocratic Ugly Sisters. Georgette Heyer's These Old Shades has a heroine who's been living disguised as a boy for much of her life, and has been brought up by peasants, but the hero neveretheless is able to detect her aristocratic origins, and the false heir, who was put in her place but is the real son of the peasants, has a natural tendency to be interested in farming, and his features are coarse and his bearing ungraceful, even though he's lived among aristocrats since he was a baby.

when perfection is the norm for the central couple and everyone else of their race/gender/class/etc, I think the "reward" argument falls apart.

It's also not very convincing, at least not if the story is set in the real world, because it's fairly obvious that few, if any, aristocrats are innately superior in every way to "ordinary" people.

RfP said...

it's fairly obvious that few, if any, aristocrats are innately superior in every way to "ordinary" people.

Laura, that's an interesting point in this story. Initially we're told they're separate races living in separate kingdoms. (Or separate species? I'm not sure Linnaeus' taxonomy covered people with flying-cat souls.) At any rate, they're separate enough that it's not surprising there's some suspicion between the cultures. In addition, Rain himself almost destroyed the world a while back, so there's a clear power differential and it's understandable that the Celierians are intimidated by the Fey.

However, as the story progresses the differences aren't confined to unfamiliarity and power. The Fey have nobility of character, sensitivity, and beauty; in my reading they're de facto aristocrats in the mold of the Heyer heroine.

(I almost typed "aristocats"--how strangely fitting!)