Wednesday, January 30, 2013

Book review: Wytchfire by Michael Meyerhofer


If you are sick of waiting for George R.R. Martin to finish A Song of Ice and Fire, I recommend Wytchfire, the first in a planned series of fantasy novels by Michael Meyerhofer. With strong, multidimensional characters and a conscientious inclusion of groups not often seen in the fantasy genre,  Wytchfire succeeds at telling an exciting, page-turning yarn without ever feeling like a guilty pleasure. 

Wytchfire is set in a complex fantasy world with elements of King Arthur myths, Japanese feudal period fantasy, and Dungeons & Dragons. The story opens as the main character (with his sexy protagonist name: Rowen Locke) leaves the Lotus Isles, having failed to become a Knight. The Isles are a sort of academy for Knights in training and failure is a major theme throughout the book--particularly poignant during this Great Recession.

The first part of the book resembles Robert E. Howard's Conan the Cimmerian stories in that the main character is a sell-sword concerned with little but his next meal and mug of ale. This freewheeling hundred-or-so pages, though light on plot, were my favorite part of the book. Meyerhofer uses Rowen's homelessness to explore his rich fantasy world; the scenes feel episodic and lightly connected in the tradition of the early twentieth century weird tales.

Soon, the plot kicks in. A huge horde of sorcerers and mercenaries is devastating one city after the other, led by a half-orc half-elf caster whose entire muscled body is covered in tattooed glyphs. His name is Fadarah, which means father. Sounds like the best D&D character ever, right? This antagonist serves as a sort of Magneto for the misunderstood, outcast mages. He adds a level of badass to every chapter he's in and serves as the novel's Big Bad, but like Magneto he has a woobie backstory that endeared his cause to me.

Despite some parts' freewheeling feel and the world's expansiveness, the book is tightly plotted. The last third of novel abounds in twists which I usually did not see coming. Meyerhofer follows the logic of Chekov's gun. (To avoid spoilers, don't look up that reference before reading Wytchfire.)

Meyerhofer's prose is simple enough for the YA crowd but can still entertain this over-thirty fantasy fan. In many ways Wytchfire's prose is better than the later George R.R. Martin novels: Meyerhofer doesn't repeat a single thought through his characters' minds ad nauseum, unlike Martin. At some parts the way Meyerhofer informs us of a character's homosexuality or sexual enslavement to another were subtle enough for Hays Code-era Hollywood. I thought the writing would be improved through a blanket moratorium on exclamation marks, and my Kindle edition had a few typos ("dragonkinDragonkin") but otherwise the novel is well-written.

The fantasy and sci fi genres have become increasingly diversified since the all-white and mostly-male worlds of J.R.R. Tolkien and T.H. White, and it is now customary to include earthly races within the fantasy human race (e.g., George R.R. Martin's inhabitants of the Summer Isles, Orson Scott Card's planets of earthly ethnicities, and Skyrim's Redguard). Meyerhofer makes a point of including the diversity of this world within his fantastical one. Characters entering Wytchfire through Meyerhofer's equal opportunity policy include a female Asian knight, an obese Black merchant, and a homosexual dwarf sellsword. Wytchfire includes the types of characters that should be included in all depictions of fantasy.

Actually, Meyerhofer's commitment to social issues extends beyond populating his novel with underrepresented groups. A major theme running throughout the novel is the abhorrence of rape. At one point Fadarah, the Big Bad, stops a rape in progress. (Ah, Fadarah. If there's any justice in the world we'll see some Wytchfire shipping soon.) Meyerhofer hints throughout the book that the sexual enslavement of children is widespread in the world of Wytchfire. The novel never glamorizes rape nor uses it to comic purposes; within the novel, as with life, it is a violent act which forever scars its victims. Meyerhofer's treatment of sexual violence is another reason Wytchfire never felt like a guilty read, but a feminist take on violence told from a male perspective.

Wytchfire occupies the same space in the fantasy hierarchy as Tad Williams' best novels: deeply fantastical, they reflect elements of our world while still providing an escape. Like Williams' works, it probably won't convert someone who isn't already a fan of the genre. For veterans of fantasy novels or games, Wytchfire is a satisfying read: a complex land populated by interesting characters. I'm looking forward to the second in the trilogy.

Wytchfire by Michael Meyerhofer: ★
Read it or read the first chapter by clicking here.