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The Forgotten Beasts of Eld


Ace
Fiction, Fantasy
Themes: Avians, Bonded Companions, Dragons, Felines, Legend-Based Stories, Wizards
***

Description

Long ago in the land of Eldwold, high on the mist-shrouded slopes of Eld Mountain, a wizard's byblow son built a home beyond the reach of men. Here, he summoned great animals of legend and lore, a collection expanded by his son and grandson after his death. The Black Swan of Tirlith, the green Dragon Gyld, the golden Lyon Gules, the magical black Cat Moriah, the swift Falcon Ter, the riddle-keeping Boar Cyrin... ageless creatures of great power and magic, bound by the keepers of their names. Now the wizard girl Sybel - lone child of the last grandson - watches over them as they watch over her, continuing her ancestors' search for more elusive beasts for the menagerie.
One day, an unwelcome visitor arrives at her gates. A warrior from a nearby kingdom brings her the baby Tamlorn, heir to a great throne, to raise beyond the reach of courtly schemers. Sybel was raised in silence and ancient lore; she knows nothing of wars or kings, love or hate, and she resents this intruder and his burden. In raising young Tamlorn, she finds herself slowly drawn from her ageless mountain sanctuary into the living world... and into the very heart of her own deepest hopes and darkest fears.

Review

Not unlike Song for the Basilisk (reviewed below), McKillip weaves a tale almost exclusively with flowery speech and symbolism, bedecked with names and kingdoms and lineages beyond measure. The whole tapestry hangs heavy, threatening to crush the reader under its own weight. Also like Song for the Basilisk, I had to learn the trick of skimming to get through parts. At some point, I started to feel like I was reading more because I ought to than because I wanted to, as if I were trudging through a dull novel for an English class rather than reading a book for pleasure. I confess that I never did get all the names and kingdoms and alliances entirely separate in my head. Still, I saw some distinct glimmers through the murk. The story itself is original, if a bit slow, and has a certain elder-day charm to it.
Did I hate it? No. Could I be talked into reading it again? Highly doubtful. I suppose this proves once and for all that McKillip's writing style just isn't one I'll ever enjoy.

 

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Song for the Basilisk


Ace
Fiction, Fantasy
Themes: Creative Power, Legend-Based Stories
***+

Description

The great capital city Berylon has long been home to the four great Houses of the land. For four centuries, under the watchful eye of Tormalyne House's griffin banner, they coexisted in relative peace. That was before the War of the Basilisk, when the ruthless Pellior House, like the basilisk of its crest, rose to conquer the others with unwavering ferocity. At the climax of the bloody campaign, Arioso Pellior burned Tormalyne Palace and all its inhabitants, suppressing the other two Houses into obedient shadows of their former selves. One child survived the conflagration, spirited to the island of Luly, where ancient bards teach of the great power in words and magic and the mystical northern hinterlands can be glimpsed across the waters. Over the years, the name of Griffin Tormalyne has became legend, a rumor of hope in a living Tormalyne heir, a word of rebellion among those choked by the Basilisk's coils and one sure to draw the wrath of Pellior should it even be whispered.
Now known as Rook Caladruis, the heir to the griffin crest of Tormalyne has spent thirty years hiding from a memory of fire and pain among the bards, telling himself that the past is a dead thing with no power over him. But no man can hide forever from the eye of the hunting Basilisk, nor can he hide from the calling of his own blood. Bearing the armor of his heritage and the weapon of his music, Caladruis must at last face Arioso Pellior and the ghosts from his past, that Berylon may be freed from the tyrant's grip and the griffin's line may return.

Review

McKillip never states directly what she can imply with a poetic metaphor. Sometimes this adds color and drama to the narrative, but it also bogs things down, as I occasionally lost track of what was actually happening between the flowery phrases. Indeed, much of the action is never described directly, but rather implied by turn of phrase and characters reflecting on the event long after the fact. Nobody can simply climb a flight of stairs and look out a window in McKillip's works; instead, they must ascend toward the heavens and set their stonebound eyes upon the far, bright reaches of Creation. After a while, it made me long for someone - anyone - who could do things in plain, simple English. Maybe it was because of this style, but the book seems to take a while to get off the ground. It's a good story with memorable, dream-vivid imagery, but I found the constant twisting of words and images tedious at times. I didn't dislike it enough to give it a flat Okay rating, but it was close.

 

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