UK/AU/NZ

The About The Characters post series focuses on the minor characters in The Wall Of Night series, in large part because:

“I think it’s the presence of the smaller characters that “makes” a story, creating texture around the main points of view.”

~ from my Legend Award Finalist's Interview, 2013

Initially, the series focused exclusively on characters from The Heir of Night, but now I’m continuing on with minor characters from both The Gathering Of The Lost and Daughter of Blood — in alphabetical order, of course!

(The quotes, together with the covers, indicate the books in which the character appears.)

—

USA

Kelyr: a House of Swords warrior, returning from the Southern Realms to the Wall of Night

The Sword warrior’s expression was bleary, his eyes bloodshot, and although he was watching Kalan and the horses, his demeanor remained incurious. One of his companions leaned forward. “I’m Kelyr,” he called in Derai, “of the House of Swords. Honor on you and on your House.” … His tone was friendly, although the warmth did not touch his eyes.

~  from © Daughter of Blood, The Wall of Night Book Three: Chapter 6 — The Pastry Thief

Recently, the world premiere of the TV adaptation of Eleanor Catton’s The Luminaries, screened here in NZ.

I was very keen to see the six-part series for a number of reasons: the novel is written by a New Zealander and is also set in New Zealand; it won the Booker Prize for fiction in 2013; and the novel’s author, Eleanor Catton, wrote the screenplay, so I felt the dramatization should be true to to the essence of the novel, which—gulp, true confessions!—I haven’t yet read.

By way of a broad synopsis, The Luminaries is an historical drama set in New Zealand’s 1860s gold rush era, with the action chiefly taking place in Dunedin, and Hokitika on the West Coast. The story weaves together the history of the era: with its explosion of gold mining bringing prospectors from all over the world, including a sizeable contingent of Chinese miners, into the the remoteness of regions such as the West Coast, the rohe of Ngati Waewae. Its multiple strands also encompass the era’s legacy of gold diggings, coastal trading, and licentiousness, including drunken-ness (Hokitika was famous for having a population of 25,000 and over 100 pubs), opium dens and brothels, as well as the astrological influence that give both the novel and TV series their name: The Luminaries.

The astrological influence makes its presence felt from the outset, with the simultaneous arrival in Dunedin of astrological “twins”: Anna Wetherell (Eve Hewson) and Emery Staines (Himesh Patel). Both intend seeking their fortunes on the goldfields but are almost immediately separated by the connivance of those they first encounter. Anna is drawn into the orbit of Lydia Wells (played by Eva Green), a psychic, fortune teller and adventuress, while Emery’s path crosses that of Lydia’s lover, sea captain and ex-convict, Francis Carver (Marton Csokas). Other significant characters include Crosbie Wells, Lydia’s husband, who has made a significant gold strike; Chinese miner, Quee Long; and Te Rau Tauwhare, a local Maori and greenstone hunter, although there are a cast of lesser figures.

The heart of the drama revolves about the astrological connection of Anna and Emery, the effect of Crosbie Well’s gold on the lives and fates of all the central characters, and the ruthless ambitions of Lydia Wells and Francis Carver in particular.  A lesser, but still potent influence is the friendship between Emery, Crosbie, and Te Rau Tauwhare.

Visually, The Luminaries is powerful, atmospheric, and evocative, with the West Coast landscape in particular a dark, brooding, and ‘distant’ influence. I feel that the dirt, roughness, and wildness of colonial-era Dunedin and Hokitika are also successfully evoked, and the cast of characters are diverse and intriguing.

Atmospheric & evocative…

The acting performances are strong, particularly Eva Green and Marton Csokas, but all the principal characters are convincing. I did, however, find the character of Anna, in particular, frustratingly lacking in agency throughout most of the series. Although this species of heroine-as-victim may have been popular in the Victorian era itself, it doesn’t accord with what I know of the history of the women, such as Queenstown’s Julia O’Malley, who survived and made their mark in NZ’s goldfields era. As a viewer, I found Anna difficult to invest in or care about.

The luminous & compelling Eva Green, as Lydia Wells

Initially, I was slow to warm to and become engaged in the story, but the middle episodes definitely drew me in. However, there was too much of the drama where the characters’ motivation and actions felt inexplicable in terms of the action. Much of Anna’s behaviour throughout fitted into this category, as did the coming together of the thirteen protagonists toward the end. Although I understood that their coming together was intended as significant in terms of the zodiac’s luminaries, many of the characters just hadn’t seemed that important in the story to date, so as a viewer I was puzzled by it, more than anything else.

A walk in Cornwall Park (I know that tree!): sorry, “Dunedin” 😉

Although historical in setting, the importance of the astrological influences, in particular, but also the ability of one character to physically translocate, shift the story into the magic realism end of the fantasy spectrum. The translocation, however, came at the very end and seemingly out of nowhere, which felt in the nature of a deus ex machina and correspondingly unsatisfactory.  The courtroom ending, too, felt overly  ‘pat’ and ‘neat’, compared to the rest of the story, so overall I was left feeling unsatisfied and that the series underdelivered.

A question I occasionally get asked is whether blogging interferes with my writing.

The answer, in the best Tolkien’s elf style, is both “no” and “potentially yes.”

It’s “no” because for me they’re very different styles of writing and so I can be exhausted after working on the novel, but “switch brains” to doing a blog post, which seems to tap a different creative well.

As I believe I may have indicated previously, novels and the writing thereof are not unlike marathons, or “Ironman” events (because you do have to “switch codes” sometimes within the larger format). Blogging, on the other hand, is more of a quiet jog around the block in terms of intensity, during which you can easily chat with the neighbours and pause to enjoy a view or two.

In short, they’re very different beasties and although there’s a connection between the two, they’re at different ends of a considerable spectrum.

On Anything, Really…

However, I did channel my inner Tolkien elf and said “potentially, yes” as well. The nub of the matter lies in the “potentially” of course. For example, with a post series like Having Fun With Epic Fantasy Tropes, each of those posts can take a bit of time to put together. With a themed series of that type, the reason the installments appear a wee way apart is because I don’t want to rob from the book writing time to get the posts done on a regular and reliable schedule.

Also, one of the reasons for cutting back from blogging everyday (with or without a spirit of joyful exhilaration), which is what I used to do for many years, was not because the posts were being written in my space for the novel writing , but to reduce cumulative commitments, as these can eat into both energy and time if not kept within bounds.

Gone Writing

Overall, though, so long as I need to take rest and revitalization breaks away from the novel writing (which of course I do), there will always be time for a little blogging without conflict of interest.

A few weeks back I interviewed fellow Christchurch author and friend-in-specfic, AJ Fitzwater, about their new-out collection of linked short fiction, The Voyages of Cinrak The Dapper (Queen of Swords Press, 2020.)

In more normal times, I would only do an interview after having read the book, but in this case, owing to the exigencies of lockdown and Covid-19 restrictions, I decided to charge ahead anyway. In this respect, I also felt I knew AJ and their work well enough to manage an interview without having read the book first, which wouldna necessarily be the case with an author I did not already know.

All the same, one of the many positives about moving to Level 2 of Covid-19 restrictions, was finally getting my very own copy of the book and  reading it at last. Not only that, dear readers, but having now read it, getting the opportunity to tell you how very much I have enjoyed my time with Cinrak the Dapper and their salty crew, sailing the wide, wild, and magical seas of Rodentdom.

If challenged to find one word to describe these linked short stories, the first word that springs to mind is “delightful.” The character of Cinrak is doughty, resourceful, and courageous, and the cast of associate characters are variously enterprising, fun, and in many cases, such as Agnes the Kraken and their enduring love, Xolotli, the glass whale, imaginative and downright wonderful.

If I may use a further two adjectives to add to my “delightful”, then “highly imaginative” is a sound descriptor of The Voyages of Cinrak The Dapper. The stories are also beautifully written, and if you love gorgeous and lively and magical use of language, then this collection will hit the right reading spot for you. You may also enjoy, as I did, the stories’ themes of diversity and acceptance, and the importance of friendship and “found family.”

As an adult reader, I was charmed by The Voyages of Cinrak The Dapper, but it’s also a collection I wouldn’t hesitate to share with Junior and YA readers. I believe they would be equally delighted by the wonder, charmed by Cinrak and her salty comrades, and swept along by the mystery and adventure.

To find out more, check out: An Interview With AJ Fitzwater, Author of The Voyages of Cinrak The Dapper.

USA

The About The Characters post series focuses on the minor characters in The Wall Of Night series, in large part because:

“I think it’s the presence of the smaller characters that “makes” a story, creating texture around the main points of view.”

~ from my Legend Award Finalist's Interview, 2013

Initially, the series focused exclusively on characters from The Heir of Night, but now I’m continuing on with minor characters from both The Gathering Of The Lost and Daughter of Blood — in alphabetical order, of course!

(The quotes, together with the covers, indicate the books in which the character appears.)

—

UK/AU/NZ

Kair: a House of Fire cavalry commander

Malian estimated at least fifteen gathered about the long, central trestle…the expressions regarding her ranged from neutral to openly assessing. … Resolution characterized their faces… but she only retained a handful of names: Valadan, tall and stern faced, was second-in-command of Fire, while Kair was a cavalry commander, and Daile had come from the Hedeld fort…Learning them all was going to take time. A night’s rest, Malian reflected wryly, should also help.

~  from © Daughter of Blood, The Wall of Night Book Three: Chapter 38 — Dawn Wind

‘Twas aways away back in 2018 when I promised a Having Fun With Epic Fantasy Tropes post on that stalwart of the genre, the Sidekick—and once I realized this, I decided I had best make up for the long delay immediately. So here it is — ta-da-dum! — the Sidekick!

Heroes and sidekicks

If the farm boy or gal who goes on a quest journey and the prince or princess that finds a destiny are the foundation stones of epic fantasy, then it is a truth universally acknowledged that shortly after setting out on their quest, the protagonist will acquire sidekicks. Sometimes, too, the sidekick become vital to the story in their own right—I’m thinking of characters like Sam here, in Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings. He even gets to carry the ring for a short time, and saves the day on any number of occasions, but no matter how potent in the story, so long as he remains with Frodo, Sam will always the sidekick and never the central character.

The fact it is possible to make the transition from sidekick to point-of-view (POV) character is illustrated by the hobbits Merry and Pippin. Both start, like Sam, as sidekicks to Frodo, but at the point the fellowship of the ring breaks up and their storyline deviates from that of Frodo, they both become point-of-view characters in their own right.

Since The Lord of the Rings has a significant number of sidekick characters, a similar transition can be observed with Legolas and Gimli, the elven and dwarf representatives in the fellowship respectively. So long as the fellowship remains together, both are clearly sidekicks and relatively minor ones, too, when contrasted with Sam, Merry, and Pippin. When the fellowship diverges, both become sidekicks to Aragorn, as opposed to Frodo, and play far more significant parts in the story.

The Lord of the Rings adopts a classic approach to the epic tropes, which have evolved out of myth, fairytale, and the hero tales of many cultures, and illustrates that the role of the sidekick is always a dynamic one. Arguably, though, the sidekick is as essential to the epic tradition as the hero.

To my mind, this is because one of the primary roles the sidekick plays, beyond straightforward companionship, is that of “foil” to the hero. Sam, therefore, always has his two furry feet firmly on the ground, and offers prosaic hobbit sense when Frodo is tortured by doubt and the weight of the ring. Similarly, an important part of Ron and Hermione’s parts in the Harry Potter series is as a contrast to Harry.

For example, Harry is an orphan and ‘boy alone’, whereas Ron comes from a large, tumultuous, and loving family. Harry (and Ron) are both from wizarding families, whereas Hermione’s parents are ‘muggles’ (without powers), and although Hermione is a hugely talented wizard, she’s also a girlie swot. Harry, by contrast, is much more engaged in the hurly burly of the real world—oh yes, and the quidditch pitch. 😉

Together, though, the diverse talents of the heroes and sidekicks in both The Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter complement each other. They also achieve far more through alliance and cooperation than the hero would if alone.

And as the mentor, Aerin, points out to Hari in Robin McKinley’s The Blue Sword, “it’s not fair that the heroes get all the adventures and all the glory alone”.  Aerin’s point is that sharing both the danger and the glory builds stronger bonds within the heroes’ and sidekicks’ communities.

The sidekick, therefore, points to the importance of friendship and community in achieving the hero’s goals, even if it’s always the hero who must cast the story equivalent of the ‘deciding vote’ — whether its Frodo casting the ring into Mount Doom or Harry completing the final saving actions against Voldemort’s nefarious plots.

Returning to the point about the sidekick being a “foil” to the hero, the sidekick, or group of sidekicks, also enable insight into and commentary on the hero’s actions through their questions and arguments.  So in David Gemmell’s Waylander, the companions the hero/antihero reluctantly acquires challenge his isolation and indifference to the events around him, with one in particular—the priest Dardalion—transitioning to become the story’s second pov character.

Similarly, in the television version of Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett’s Good Omens, Adam’s ‘gang’ of childhood companions challenge his emerging powers, influencing him against his darker heritage.

The point Dardalion illustrates, similarly to Merry and Pippin, is that in order to remain a sidekick, a character can rarely survive sustained point-of-view time in the story. Sidekicks offer insight into the main characters and heroes, and support the larger quest (not necessarily without grumbling 😉 ) but this works best if the spotlight stays on those central characters.

In terms of my own writing—yes, of course there be sidekicks! In Thornspell, Sigismund’s chief sidekick is Rue, but his childhood associates, Wat and Wenceslas, and the horsecopers, Fulk and Rafe, all qualify as sidekicks.

USA

The Wall of Night series has multiple point-of-view characters, each of whom has their own sidekicks, such as Garan with his eight-unit—which also crosses over to the Band of Brothers trope. So, too, do the sidekicks the geographer, Carick, encounters among the squires and knights of Emer, in The Gathering of the Lost.

Similarly, in Daughter of Blood, Malian has the hedge knight, Raven, as sidekick, while Kalan acquires a variety through the book: from the boy, Faro, in Grayharbor, to a handful of fellow competitors in the House of Blood honor contest, and a later group of fellow exiles.

It’s epic fantasy after all, and that means heroes—and where there be heroes, the epic tradition insists on sidekicks as well.

—

Previous Entries In The ‘Having Fun With Epic Fantasy Tropes” Series:

Introduction: Having Fun With Epic Fantasy—Meet the Tropes

Instalment 1: Having Fun With Epic Fantasy Tropes: A Farm Boy/Gal Goes On A Journey…

Instalment  2: A Prince/Princess Finds A Destiny

Instalment 3: Dreams and Portents, Prophecy and Destiny

Instalment 4: “Apocalypse Now”

Instalment 5: Meet The Big Bad

Instalment 6: The Sweep Of Time & Its Twin, War Without End

Instalment 7: Fortunately There was A Portal

Instalment 8: We’re All Going On A MacGuffin Hunt

Instalment 9: Artefacts of Power—And Doom—And Where To Find Them

Instalment 10: The Alchemy Of Numbers

Instalment 11: The Mentor

—

On SF Signal: The “Having Fun With Epic Fantasy” Series

1. “Making the Grand Tour” (aka the Road Journey);

2. .”The “Band of Brothers”; and the

3. . “Soul-Sucking Sword.”

---

© Helen Lowe

This year on Supernatural Underground I’m celebrating the awe-inspiring and downright inspirational worldbuilding of Fantasy literature,  because worldbuilding is the vital glue that binds the different strands of the genre together. And also because, quite simply, fantasy worldbuilding is So Much FUN!

Year of Worldbuilding in Fantasy # 5: “Ship of Magic” & the Liveship Traders Series by Robin Hobb

.

Oh yes, in case I didn’t mention it, there are sentient ships and sea serpents, pirates and dragons, as well as traders, slavers and great powers all contending in the mix, aka much that will appeal to a range of avid readers. 🙂

#YoW YearOfWorldbuilding
#WiF WorldbuildingInFantasy

Yep, it’s autumn here…

Although it’s started to get a little chillier and more autumnal over the past week, here in Christchurch NZ we’ve had some fabulously mild autumn weather over April-May: almost an “Indian autumn”—as opposed to “Indian summer” since the latter is well behind us now with today being the first day of winter. We’ve had some fabulous auutmn colour, too, with the likes of the cherry tree (of the ‘wild white’ variety, nuthin’ fancy-dancy) in my garden putting off its usual autumnal bronze in favor of crimson and fiery scarlet.

But one weekend in early May, while we were still in more Level 3 mode (ie not as restrictive as full lockdown but still reasonably so), the weather was positively balmy, so much so that I ventured out for my walk in shorts (yes, shorts, and in May: I know!), as well as taking a precautionary approach with sunscreen and hat. “Indian autumn” indeed!

Because Level 3 allowed for longer walks and the ability to venture beyond 2 kilometres from one’s own front gate, in combination with the sunshine, I ventured forth into a section of Christchurch’s Residential Red Zone* where I used to walk all the time but haven’t been for over nine years. Pretty much since the February 22nd, 2011 earthquake which trashed that part of the world. All of which is why this post is categorized as an “Earthquake Report” (although “post earthquake” would probably be more apt) as well as being of more ‘General’ interest. (Or so I hope.)

A major reason I didn’t walk there for a long time was because although the people had been bought out by the government and mostly moved on, it took quite a few years to clear all the houses. And tbh, I found it sad enough on my side of the river, seeing what had once been peoples’ homes lying derelict, with grass and weeds growing up around the windowsills, without venturing farther afield simply to experience more of the same.

The broken bridge, post September 4, 2010

The reason for putting off crossing the river since the houses were cleared and it’s effectively become a ‘green zone ‘ is two-fold. Firstly, I can get in a very reasonable sort of walk on my home side of the river, without needing to cross over. Also, crossing over is a much bigger commitment now than it used to be, since the most accessible walk is a ca. 7 kilometre block from my starting point.

Pre-earthquake, there was a lovely little footbridge roughly halfway into the “block” that allowed me to lengthen or shorten my work depending on the time available. But the footbridge, alas, was spectacularly munted by the first, September 4 2010, earthquake and comprehensively trashed by February 22nd, so it was, not surprisingly, removed for safety reasons. Once the decision to “red zone”* a significant portion of the residential area on the far side of the river (to me) was made, there were (obviously, imho) more important uses for everyone’s money than replacing the footbridge. So although I can still cross the river at either end of the “block”, once across it does mean committing to the full 7 km walk, which constitutes a reasonable length of time when on foot.

More autumn colour — but not where I went a-walking… 🙂

On that palmy-balmy day in early May, though, encouraged by the general amazingness of the day, together with the certainty that winter is coming so such days and the opportunities to get out and enjoy the greenery-rivery environment would be unlikely to last that much longer, I decided to go all ‘nike’ and ‘just do it.’ And it really was a great walk, although I wouldn’t be keen to undertake it in the full blaze of summer.

You see, I needed the hat and the sunscreen that day, with the levels of warmth and sunshine at mild autumn levels, chiefly because a significant number of the shade trees on the far side of the river have been removed—I assume to make way for the stopbanks that were put in as emergency works post earthquake. (The reason for doing so was because there was so much subsidence with major risk of wholesale flooding  while people were still living there, before the area was “red zoned.”)

So even though the stopbanks were probably necessary, and despite there being an intention to substantially “green the red zone” in future, for now there is very little shade, all of which means it will be a long hot slog in summer. A lot of the river bank trees were large, too, and ”as we all know (or so I understand), it’s the big trees that provide not only the most environmental benefit in terms of cooling and putting oxygen into the air, but exponentially more of such benefits than their smaller comrades. So despite the beautiful day, I did feel a little sad on a number of levels.

Greenery-rivery, from ‘my’ side

Not all the trees have gone: I did encounter a few old friends, but despite enjoying the expedition I was glad to get back to my side of the river, where overall there are a great many more trees to provide a shade that makes the river walk much more enjoyable on hot days. And as some of you may recall from a few years back, I really am very fond of trees. I will confess to being a little un-p.c. in my liking, too, as although I prefer NZ’s indigenous evergreen species when I get out into the vasty wild, in more built up areas I believe there’s a real case to be made for some of the introduced deciduous species.

This isn’t just because of the pretty autumn colours and new growth in spring, but because they let through sun in winter while providing shade in summer, definitely enhancing something like the river walk on a seasonal basis. The native plants used in such areas tend to be smaller, too, as well as evergreen and dense, so they cut off views as well as sun. Such planting can present safety concerns, too, if one cannot either ‘see or be seen’ by others. From observation in my own garden, which contains generous plantings of both native and introduced species, native bird and insect life appear to thrive in both. And regardless of location, because of the environmental benefits in terms of air quality and environmental cooling, I think we should be trying to retain as many mature trees as possible, for the duration of their life cycle, and replace or companion plant with alternative species where transition is considered desirable.

Also my side of the river

So there you are, a move from reflection on the merits or otherwise of sticking to my side of the river, with all the whys and wherefores around that, to what some may see as being a little more controversial. But airing of reflection and opinion, for better or worse, is what blogging is about, after all, and this particular blog is “…about Anything, Really.” And I suspect those of you who read it, as well as my books, know that observations and reflections on the “green world” are likely to from part of the mix. 🙂

Otherwise, I hope you are all doing as well, and staying as well, as you can in these ‘interesting times.’ Keep taking care and have a good week.

Burnished gold

*You may have gleaned this from context, but the "Residential Red Zone" comprises all 
those areas of Christchurch, chiefly in the east where I reside, that were deemed 
unliveable after the Christchurch earthquakes of 2010-2011. As a result the government
bought out the property owners, requiring or enabling them (depending on your point of
view) to relocate elsewhere in the city. The process of repurposing the Red Zone, 
including for "greening" projects, is currently ongoing.

—

Coming Up Soon on Supernatural Underground:

Just a heads-up that when the clock clicks over into Monday June 1 on US standard time, I shall be posting Instalment 5 of my Worldbuilding in Fantasy series on the Supernatural Underground blog. Just in case you missed it, last month I featured the wonderful world of Palimpsest, in the book of the same name, by Catherynne M Valente. 

Shutters closed.

Over recent months, my posts have coalesced around several themes, including  “Writing In a Time of Corona Virus“, especially when NZ was in its Level 4 Lockdown. (We’re currently in Level 2, with all digits somewhat tightly pretzelled that we’ve “done enough” to stay here or go to Level 1 — now wouldn’t that be grand?)

The second theme is writing-centric (my own writing, that is) and has included reflections on writing the long form (aka novels and series) and a commitment to write a little more from inside the writing life. And this is the third Inside post: huzza! 🙂

Naturally “self-isolating”…

In both the “Writing In a Time of …” posts and my Reflections on Writing the Long Form, I made reference to the writing life being naturally self-isolating—which is partly humour and partly true.

While I can’t speak for other writers and their process, I find it helps to have periods of solitude and uninterrupted writing time. So I tend to seek that out whenever possible, to try and help the muse along.

Mmmm, delicious…

At all time in fact, but particularly when I do get those quiet times, the authorial coffee pot is an essential adjunct to the writing life, for brew and reflect moments, hands then wrapped about the cup as I watch the steam—and when fortune smiles!—the inspiration rise.

The dichotomy in all of this, is that although solitude helps to download the creative message from the Muses, it’s people and their doings that are the breath of life for fiction.

And a great deal of what makes us all tick as people, is being with other people and in community. So I suspect that if the self-isolation goes on for too long, then the writing—like the author—may end becoming a little disconnected from reality. An apt quote in that respect is the wonderful passage from John Donne:

“No man* is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main…any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.”

from Meditation XVII by John Donne, 1572-1631

In fact, the creative tension between solitude and engagement is not that unlike living in a time of corona virus, in which we go into lockdown and self isolate in order to get some runs on the board against the virus—but the whole point of doing so is in order to go out into the world again and re-engage both safely and fully.

So yep, sometimes going out and engaging when it doesn’t feel like I have quite enough runs on the writing board can feel a bit like breaking lockdown: O-o. Then again, so long as there isn’t a corona virus or its equivalent lurking out there, waiting to get me—and perhaps more importantly, to get to others through me—then sometimes that breakout is just good for the soul.

USA

UK/AU/NZ

Actually, typing that Covid-19 analogy makes me realise that the graphic depictions of the virus do put me in mind of my mental image of the Swarm lurkers (chiefly seen in The Gathering Of the Lost), albeit without the jellyfish-esque tentacles beneath. 😉

A book that addresses the dichotomy between isolation and involvement is Barbara Hambly’s Dragonsbane. Any reader that’s a regular here will probably have picked up that I’m a fan of this book, but one of the issues that the heroine, Jenny Waynest, struggles with is her need for solitude to strengthen and enhance her magic, and her human need to connect with others and be part of a wider community.

Jenny thinks she has been weak in giving into her humanity and choosing to have a husband and children, as well as being a mage, and that she has weakened her magic because of it. In fact, the way this conflict works out is an important aspect of the book (and by no means obvious, by the way.)

I’ve often wondered whether the author, Barbara Hambly’s approach to Jenny’s character could have been influenced by the tension between solitude and engagement in the writing life. Although if Ms. Hambly’s characters are anything like mine, they quickly develop minds and character traits of their own, independent of the author’s original conception. 🙂

—

* I would argue that no woman is an island either, or better yet, no person of 
any persuasion, but given the era in which John Donne was writing I suspect he
used "man" and "mankind" in the oldfashioned sense of encompassing all people.

Although I read widely as a young reader, The Letter For The King by Dutch author, Tonke Dragt, was not one of the books that made it into my avid hands. In fact, I only learned about it a few years back when Marion Drolsbach, who translated The Heir of Night into Dutch for Luitingh, gave me a copy of what has—since it was first published in 1962—become a Dutch childhood classic.

So having become acquainted with the book quite recently, I was keen to see the television series. I also felt that, having first read the children’s book as an adult, I would be able to approach the TV series in a more open spirit than if it had been a dearly loved childhood favourite.

The TV show poster

The Book and The TV Show: Similarities and Departures

As it turns out, the latter view was correct because by-and-large I enjoyed the show despite the fact that it departed from the book in many respects.  Having said that, I feel that the “spine” of the story is essentially the same. The similarities are that the protagonist, Tiuri, must break his knight’s vigil to render aid to others  and ends up being charged with delivering a vital letter to Unauwen, King of a neighbouring realm. (Tiuri is an aspiring knight of Dagonaut.)

Tiuri’s epic quest-journey then ensues in the book, as it does in the TV show. Elements in common include the gallant black steed, Ardanwen, that he inherits from the knight who entrusted him with the letter; the pursuit by the evil Red Knights; a series of adventures, including being imprisoned then freed by a young woman called Lavinia, and falling in with a number of acquaintances who either further or hinder his quest—although these encounters differ quite substantially between the book and the film.

The essence of the reason for the letter and the quest is also the same, in that one of King Unauwen’s sons, who has conquered a third kingdom, Evillan, is plotting to usurp his father’s throne. (Btw, this is not a spoiler: it becomes clear very early on in the TV series.)

The Book Cover

So in fact, that’s quite a lot in common. However, if the book’s original storyline can be likened to a Triumph Herald, the TV show has strapped, if not an aircraft carrier, but definitely a Mack truck onto the chassis. I don’t recall magic in my reading of the book, but it’s definitely a substantial part of the TV story, plus a good-evil, saving-of-the-world prophecy.

The cast of characters has also has been expanded exponentially—we’re definitely in aircraft carrier realm in that respect—with a whole new backstory for Tiuri and his parents, plus introducing five additional, friends-cum-enemies  travelling companions in the form of Tiuri’s fellow vigil squires. In the book, he only had one consistent companion, Piak, who appears in the TV series in a “cute kid-brother” role. The TV series also considerably amps up the role of Lavinia, making her (rather than Piak) Tiuri’s main travelling companion—plus with a mysterious storyline of her own.

In short, the TV show is epic fantasy, whereas the book is a chivalric quest in a medieval-historical, albeit made-up, world.

Considering the TV Show In Its Own Right:

Since there’s absolutely nothing wrong with epic fantasy, if I set aside the book and consider the show solely on its own merits, I did enjoy it well enough.

I really liked the character of Tiuri, I warmed to Lavinia as the series progressed,  and I enjoyed the diverse personalities among the squire “band-of-brothers.” The villains, chiefly Prince Viridian of Evillan and Jaro, the leader of the Red Knights, were suitably villainous, and the stakes felt suitably high. I also quite liked some of the secondary characters, including the Queen of Dagonaut and Prince Iridian (Viridian’s brother), and David Wenham as Tiuri’s father, Sir Tiuri the Valiant.

Dangerous villains; engaging heroes;

Some aspects of the storytelling, though, were either not well fleshed out or downright puzzling. Although appreciating the need to set up a second season, I was left puzzled as to Tiuri’s actual role and powers, and also where his mother fitted into his backstory (beyond actually being his Mum, that is.) A sequence in a mountain monastery was also somewhat perplexing—and although I understand that the “denial of powers” and “denial of mission” are both time-honoured epic tropes I felt the way in which they were introduced, particularly the “denial of mission”, didn’t really ring true to Tiuri’s character, as established up until that point.

I do note an endeavour to counter/subvert the “chosen hero” trope of epic, which I felt worked moderately well. I am not going to go into detail, though, because it would be a spoiler, and it’s not necessary to go there to substantiate my “terribly important thoughts” on the show (as it was with Noughts and Crosses recently.)

I also note that the ending felt a little anticlimactic, in terms of actual denouement versus build up, but not to the extent of being a disappointment, or worse, a flop.

Conclusion:

To return to my overall summation at the outset, by-and-large I enjoyed the show. I also think it’s important to remember that The Letter For The King is a kid’s story and the screen adaptation stays true to its “kidult” roots. This is a coming-of-age story with some really engaging young adult characters and a quest-journey with some solid action sequences, and a life-affirming vibe that I enjoyed. It’s very definitely family-friendly viewing, too, so if you’re looking for Game of Thrones level violence and sex, this is definitely not the show for you.

The clincher question, of course, is would I rock up for a second series? The answer: yep, I would.