Andrzej Sapkowski, Víbora (Viper)

Andrzej Sapkowski’s 2009 novel, Viper, differs significantly from his earlier works in several key ways.  Set in 1980s Afghanistan, it is his only novel-length fiction set in the “modern” world.  With this setting comes a shift in “magical” elements away from medievalesque sorcerers and swordsmen toward something that is more overtly allegorical and more horrific than anything else the author has written before.  It is a bold move for an established writer to take, but one that largely works for Sapkowski.

Viper is set near the end of the Soviet occupation of Afghanistan and the action is centered around a member of the Soviet special forces, Pavel Levart, as he becomes embroiled within a millennia-long story of a hidden treasure and a monstrous golden viper whose very presence signals the impending death of whoever encounters it.  As Levart and his comrades push further into the Hindu Kush, where the viper is based, echoes of previous expeditions, ranging from Alexander the Great’s soldiers to 19th century British soldiers, begin to ring, both metaphorically and in a very “real” sense, all around them.

Viper possesses more of a horror feel than a military fantasy, as the ominous viper appears several times fleetingly before disappearing for a while, leaving in its wake some disturbing revelations.  Sapkowski, however, avoids making this sense of impending doom monotonous, as he often uses snippets of poetry, especially Keats’ in untranslated English, to break the mood.  These poetic snippets, however, serve another purpose, as they contain certain thematic references that foreshadow certain developments.  As Levart and his comrades advance into the mountains, the tension slowly but steadily rises, as more about the legend of the golden viper and the treasure it guards is revealed.

The action is more internal than eternal and those expecting violent action may find themselves disappointed.  Sapkowski furthers the narrative more through dialogue than through external action, although this is less pronounced than in his earlier series.  The problem with this particular novel, however, is that the dialogue is not as memorable as those conversations from both the Witcher and Hussite Trilogy series.  There were times that the dialogue actually seemed to get in the way of the narrative, as Levart and his fellow soldiers prove to be less than exciting characters and their conversations feel devoid of the vitality that marks most of Sapkowski’s earlier writing.

Yet despite this, Viper does contain enough narrative tension over its 183 pages to make it a worthwhile read, albeit one that is one of Sapkowski’s weaker efforts.  The Spanish translation by José María Faraldo felt “natural” to me, as though the story was originally written in Spanish rather than in Polish.  Even though I had some problems with the dialogues and the characterizations, I do not believe it is the translator’s fault, but instead that of Sapkowski himself.  Yet despite these issues, on the whole Viper was a good, intriguing tale with a good conclusion.  It may not be Sapkowski’s best work, but even a lesser work of his is better than the vast majority of the speculative fiction writers that I have read in recent years.  

I received a cool surprise in the mail today

A couple of weeks ago, I placed an order on Cyberdark (one of the leading Spanish online bookstore, specializing in SF/F) for the recently-released translation of Andrzej Sapkowski’s Viper (I’m uncertain if this will ever be translated into English).  As is the case when ordering overseas, I ended up paying more for shipping than for the book itself, but in this particular case, I received, as a bonus, two extra Sapkowski-related items that I had no idea would be included in the shipment:

I knew that a Spanish translation of the recently-released Season of Storms, a prequel of sorts to the Geralt Saga, was in the works, but I didn’t know a foreigner such as myself would be eligible to receive an extended preview edition (four chapters, 31 pages) of that translation.  And I certainly did not expect a hardcover copy of the illustrated story “La Tarde Dorada” to be included.  So this certainly made my morning, as now I have more to read from one of my favorite SF/F writers.  I don’t know if I should thank the publisher, Luís Prado, or someone else at Cyberdark/Artifex, but whoever it is that I should thank, I do thank them now.  This is seriously cool.  And yes, this is about as close as any will see me online gushing about anything non-squirrel related…

What’s in a cover? Six covers depicting a singular novel in very different ways

Below are six covers for the fourth Witcher novel by Polish writer Andrzej Sapkowski.  Last year, I finished reviewing all seven (or eight in Spain for the 1st editions) volumes of the Geralt series, but I did make plans to read the long-delayed (five years) Times of Contempt (why the title is plural here is beyond me, as it is singular in the other languages) in English soon after its August (US) 2013 release.  When I bought the e-book edition this weekend, I also saw that there was an Italian edition available and I thought that since I am currently working on improving my Italian reading comprehension that it would be a good idea to purchase an Italian e-edition as well.

I was struck by the differences in covers and as I searched for .jpgs of the two English-language editions and the Spanish and Italian editions, I came across images for the original Polish and French editions as well.  I found each cover to represent something markedly different from the others, enough so that I thought I would post brief thoughts on each cover:

Polish:  The Polish cover is simple, yet it captures an important scene from the story.  The unicorn perhaps is a stock fantasy beast, yet its appearance next to a (presumably) dead body seems to indicate many things transpiring within the narrative that aren’t baldly spelled out.  I liked this cover for how it plays up and then hints at something different to the fantasy setting.

Spanish:  Depiction of Ciri, one of the main characters in this series.  Decent image (better than the original Spanish edition of a weapon), but the image is a bit too stiff and there isn’t much of a sense of the character here.

French:  Why do I think this cover might be a good candidate for Good Show Sir?  It’s so antiquated and doesn’t really fit in with what actually transpires within the novel.  If I hadn’t already read the series, covers like this would have likely dissuaded me.

Italian:  Now this cover is much better, as it captures Ciri and her balance of youth and later rough experiences quite nicely.  It feels like photoshopped and I like the use of colors here.

UK:  This is a reused cover from the Spanish edition of the second volume (not yet available in English translation), The Sword of Destiny.  Yennefer is pictured here.  See above comments about the Spanish cover, although this one I liked a bit more due to the prominence of the character; not as much background imagery to distract.

US:  Uh…uh…wha?  The image looks like Geralt is battling that sandpit monster from Return of the Jedi.  The lettering, however, is decent, but wow what an off-putting cover.

What about you?  Which covers did you like/like best?  Which ones should have been rejected before publication?

Andrzej Sapkowski, Los guerreros de Dios (God’s Warriors)

– ¡Pero la habrá! – El predicador se sirvió y apuró la jarra de un trago – .  ¡La habrá!  ¡Cuando venzamos!  Todo será común, ya no habrá propiedad ni pertenencias.  No habrá ricos ni pobres, no habrá miseria ni opresión.  ¡Reinarán en la tierra la dicha y la paz divinas!

– ¡Ay, ya parió! – comentó desde su rincón la viejuca, encorvada sobre la rueca –.  Santurrón borrachuzo.

– La paz divina – dijo con gravedad Jan Capek – la conquistaremos nosotros.  Con nuestras espadas.  Pagaremos por ella con nuestra sangre.  Y por eso nos merecemos una justa recompensa, también en dinero.  No hemos hecho una revolución, hermanos, para que yo me tenga que volver a Sány, a ese pueblo de mala muerte.  A mi casa solariega, que da pena verla, a mi hacienda, que por poco no me la tumba un cerdo una vez que le entraron ganas de frotarse en una esquina.  Las revoluciones sirven para que algo cambie.  Para los que pierden, a peor, para los que ganan, a mejor.  ¿Veis, queridos huéspedes, queridos Reinmar y Scharley, ahí en la pared, en lo alto, el escudo?  Es la divisa de Jan de Michalovice, llamado Michalec.  Él gobernó en este castillo de Michalovice, donde ahora estamos, aquí tuvo su sede el clan familiar.  ¿Y qué?  ¡Nosotros se lo hemos arrebatado!  ¡Nuestro es el premio!  Y, en cuanto tenga un rato, agarro una escalera, arranco ese escudo y al suelo con él, y todavía me voy a mear encima.  Y pienso colgar en la pared mi propia enseña, con un ciervo, ¡en un escudo el doble de grande!  ¡Y aquí mando yo!  ¡El señor Jan Copek de Sány, aposentado en Michalovice! (p. 189)

“But there it will be!”  The preacher was served a pitcher and he took from it a swig.  “There it will be!  When we shall conquer!  All will be held in common, with no property nor belongings.  There shall be neither rich nor poor, nor shall there be misery or oppression.  Bliss and heavenly peace will reign on earth!”

“Ay, it’s already born!”  the little old woman commented from her corner, hunched over the spindling wheel.  “Sanctimonious drunkard.”

“Divine peace,” Jan Capek said with gravity, “we shall conquer it.  With our swords.  We will pay for it with our blood.  And for that we shall earn a just reward, also in money.  We have not made a revolution, brothers, for me to have to return to Sány, to that miserable slum.  To my ancestral home, which gives me pain to see it, to my estate, where I once was almost knocked down by a pig that had entered wanting to jerk off in a corner.  Revolutions cause things to change.  For those that lose, worse, for those that win, better.  You see, dear guests, dear Reinmar and Scharley, there on the wall, up high, the shield?  It is the motto of Jan de Michalovice, called Michalec.  He governed in this castle of Michalovice, where we now are, here he had the seat of his family clan.  And what?  We have taken it from him!  It is our prize!  And, when I have the time, I will climb a ladder, take that shield and bring it down to the ground, and everyday I am going to piss on it.  And I am thinking of placing on the wall my own motto, with a deer, on a shield twice as big!  And here I shall rule!  The Lord Jan Copek of Sány, lodged at Michalovice!”

Los guerreros de Dios (God’s Warriors is one way of translating both the Spanish translation and the original Polish) is the second volume in Andrzej Sapkowski’s Hussite Trilogy.  The action largely takes place in 1427, during a particularly violent stage of the Hussite Wars, when the Catholic Church has called for crusades against the Hussites (divided into two factions regarding the Sacraments and the degree to which the more radical faction, the Taborites, desires to separate from the Church) in order to quell the violence that has spread from Bohemia (modern-day Czech Republic) into Silesia and Poland.  Like its predecessor, Narrenturm, the story is a mixture of historical fiction and folk magic, revolving around the characters of Reinmar/Reynaven and Scharley.

God’s Warriors contains a mixture of battle scenes (which involves some magical fighting) and discourses similar to the one provided above.  Sapkowski is interested in the apocalyptic tenor of the Hussite factions and how these desires for a reformed Church are mirrored in the desire of many for a fairer, truer, perhaps more “Christian” (depending on how one chooses to interpret passages from the Gospels) society.  Although the translated passage above is a very rough first draft that barely contains the nuances present even in the Spanish translation, one can see the interplay here of the divine and the profane, between the desire for a holier society and the wish to piss on symbols of a vanquished nobility.

There is a lot more action here than in Narrenturm, but the novel depends heavily upon dialogue and interactions between Reynaven and Scharley and the people they come in contact with during their search for Reynaven’s lost love, Nicoletta.  Sapkowski’s writing is full of clever commentaries and satires regarding historical and religious practices, yet there is not the sense that he dismisses either lightly.  Instead, he tries to capture the contradictions of 15th century Bohemian/Silesian/Polish societies and to a large degree, he succeeds, as the “local color” feels true to the period that I remember studying in a class nearly twenty years ago.

Leaving aside the necessity of an incomplete narrative due to it being a middle volume, there are not many weaknesses in God’s Warriors.  Perhaps there could have been a bit of clarity here and there for the links between the events that the fictional characters experience and the historical moments of which they played a small (fictitious) role, but other than that, God’s Warriors perhaps is the best singular volume of Sapkowski’s works that I have read to date.

Andrzej Sapkowski, Narrenturm

The early 15th century CE was a fascinating time all across Europe.  Two generations after the 1348-1350 Black Death had decimated (or worse) Southern, Western, and Central Europe, the feudal social order was in flux.  In England, Wycliffe’s Lollards continued to be such a threat to established Church hierarchy that in 1415 the Council of Constance declared him to be a heretic nearly 30 years after his death (his body was later exhumed in 1428 under orders from Pope Martin V and was burned, with the ashes scattered in the River Swift).  There were military innovations, such as the Turks using crude cannons and the precursors to guns in their invasion of southeastern Europe following their recovery from the bloody 1389 Battle of Kosovo.  The English annihilated a larger French force at the 1415 Battle of Agincourt with their use of longbows and pikemen. 

In this climate rose a movement in Bohemia (now part of the Czech Republic) that threatened to overturn the socio-religious/military orders:  the Hussites.  Followers of the Czech reformist Jan Hus (who was burned at the stake in 1415 at the Council of Constance), the Hussites (who in actuality were two distinct branches, the more moderate Utraquists and the more radical Taborites) rose up in Bohemia in protest and soon began nearly 20 years of warfare that engulfed not just Bohemia, but also neighboring states and principalities, including Moravia and Silesia (as well as Poland, Prussia, and several other states within the Holy Roman Empire).  Comprised largely of the lower classes, the Hussites managed to not just stave off repeated “crusades” against them, but to go on the offensive due to their use of handcannons and innovative mobile defensive fortifications that rendered ineffective cavalry charges against them.  The fighting also took on a religious characteristic, not just in the Catholic forces arrayed against “the heretics,” but also in the more apocalyptic language used by the Hussites (the Taborites in particular).

This tumultuous era provides an excellent setting for Polish writer Andrzej Sapkowski’s Hussite Trilogy, which begins with Narrenturm (its name being derived from the German term for a madhouse).  Readers who expect Sapkowski’s writing and structure to be similar to those of his Witcher novels may be surprised to see that his writing here takes on more of a historical fiction quality, but with the twist of having certain characters capable of utilizing witchcraft/magic in order to battle their enemies.  The melding of the historical with the magical can be problematic, as the author is constrained by actual events and cannot deviate too far from known events/personages in telling his/her story.  If one deviates too far, such as the case with Naomi Novik’s Temeraire series (which contain dragons in Napoleonic era Europe), the author risks downgrading the “seriousness” of the events in favor of “lighter” fare that might be diverting yet ultimately empty entertainment devoid of anything beyond a mindless reading romp.

This is not the case here in Narrenturm.  Sapkowski clearly has imbued this novel (and presumably the trilogy, of which only the first two volumes have been translated so far into Spanish) with references not just to historical events (his prologue consists almost entirely of narrating the historical trends noted in the introductory paragraphs above) but there is a wealth of songs, religious motifs, and other cultural elements that add a richness to the narrative.  In reading Narrenturm, I was reminded not only of Umberto Eco’s excellent The Name of the Rose for Sapkowski’s citations of Latin, medieval High German and medieval Czech, but also of Serbian writer Goran Petrović’s The Siege of the Church of Holy Salvation for its treatment of the chaotic nature of late medieval/early modern society under both literal and metaphorical siege.  As a historian who remembers some of his undergraduate courses on the pre-Charles V Holy Roman Empire and associated lands, Sapkowski’s detailed description of the locales and customs is near pitch-perfect.  From his description of a particular Narrenturm to the tactics used by Hussite soldiers to certain medieval customs and beliefs, the setting in the novel is well-realized and dynamic, providing surprising level of detail for a historically-based fiction.

Although the magic scenes do not dominate the action, they are an important part of the narrative, particularly toward the end of the novel.  The magic is based on folk beliefs and does not feel contrived or separate from the religious/social themes explored during the course of the book.  Too easily this magical addition could have weakened the novel’s sense of plausibility; here, it feels almost too “natural” to be remarked upon while reading, a testimony to Sapkowski’s skills as a writer.  The scenes involving magic serve to add to the compelling events transpiring on stage; they do not distract nor detract from the reader’s enjoyment of the historical fiction.

Characterizations in a historical novel can be tricky.  A balance has to be struck between having created characters knowing too much about actual events and characters and having these fictional personages be passive observers.  Sapkowski’s characters, particularly that of the star-crossed lover/young scion of Silesian nobility/budding alchemist Reynevan, are knowledgeable, active participants in the chaotic events of the 1420s in Silesia and Bohemia, yet they are not so active that they play a direct role (as yet) in the fighting in Bohemia.  Instead, their main role is to provide a closer look at the transpiring events, to add a sense of “we were there” to theological (and magical) debates, conflicting customs and new-fangled social beliefs, and other, less bloody but still important conflicts of the 1420s.  Reynevan and those around him do not come across as clichéd, static characters; they delve, probe, and they change their minds and attitudes based on what they encounter in their travels (including a sojourn in a “tower of the crazies”).  Historical personages are met with along the way, but not to such a degree that it is implied nor stated that Reynevan, Scharley, and others directly influenced the course of events.  Instead, they are witnesses to these massive changes and they serve as a sort of avatar for readers who may find themselves imagining what it would be like to live there at that time.

Narrenturm is a challenging read at times.  Readers who are unaware of the events surrounding the Hussite Wars or who lack knowledge of Latin and medieval dialects of German and Czech (and a bit of Polish) may find themselves consulting the glossary of terms/translations at the back of the Spanish edition.  Yet if a reader is curious to learn more about the Hussite Wars while accepting the fantastical elements presented within at face value, s/he may discover that Narrenturm is one of the finest meldings of historical and fantastical fiction that I have read in quite some time.  Hopefully, there will be an English translation at some point in the future, but for now, there are versions available in Polish, German, Czech, Russian, and Spanish (for the first two volumes; the third is forthcoming) for those readers in those languages.

Andrzej Sapkowski, The Lady of the Lake (La dama del lago, vol. 1 & 2)

Pasaron junto a un estanque vacío y triste.  Una carpa viejísima, traida por el emperador Torres, había muerto dos días antes.  Habrá que soltar un nuevo ejemplar, joven, fuerte y hermoso, de carpa espejo, pensó Emhyr var Emreis, mandaré que le prendan una medalla con mi retrato y con la fecha.  Vaesse deireadh aep eigean.  Algo ha terminado, algo comienza.  Es una nueva era.  Nuevos tiempos.  Una nueva vida.  Que haya también una carpa nueva, joder. (vol. II, p. 127)

 They passed next to an empty and sad pool.  An old carp, brought by the emperor Torres, had died two days before.  Will have to release a new one, young, strong and handsome, a mirror carp, thought Emhyr var Emreis, I will order that they strike a coin with my portrait and with the date.  Vaesse deireadh aep eigean.  Something has ended, something begins.  It is a new era.  New times.  A new life.  That there is also a new carp, fuck.

In my relatively limited experiences with completed multi-volume (particularly those stretching longer than 2000 pages or three volumes), too often the conclusion fails to realize the promises of its beginning.  Tales become bogged down with subplots; characterizations devolve into clichéd archetypes devoid of import; the prose becomes weaker and weaker with each passing page.  In many cases, the concluding volume is something endured rather than something to be celebrated.

Yet sometimes there are series that do reward a reader’s faith in a satisfying denouement.  These fortunate few often redeem any misgivings the reader might have had earlier in the series regarding the author’s ability to tie together disparate subplots, characters, and themes into something that makes the hours worthwhile that the reader has poured into digesting the story.  Andrzej Sapkowski’s seventh (eighth in Spanish, since the concluding volume was divided in twain) Witcher book, The Lady of the Lake (read in Spanish translation as La dama del lago, vols. 1 & 2) is perhaps the best book in the series after the two introductory volumes of short stories, The Last Wish and The Sword of Destiny.  It not only ties together the strands related to Geralt and Yennefer’s search for Ciri (and Ciri’s fate after her disappearance through the portal at the Swallow’s Tower), but also the “background” events (such as the war with Nilfgaard, the guerrilla warfare waged by the Squirrels, the Lodge of the Sorceresses, etc.) are also resolved in neat and yet at times surprising fashions.

The story begins not with a direct resumption of the events of The Swallow’s Tower, but with certain Arthurian characters seeking to know events of “the distant past” which involve Ciri, Geralt, and Yennefer.  Earlier in the series, there had been references to the Matter of Britain, often as clever asides uttered by the characters, but here is an interesting frame story introduced here late in the series that recasts those events.  Early on in the book, the jumping from the “literary present” to this framing tale was a bit odd, almost threatening to disjoint the narrative, yet by story’s end, it works in a fashion that would be nigh impossible to describe without laying out the full course of events.

Speaking of events, they unfold at a brisk pace, particularly in the second half, where long-awaited confrontations, some of which date back to very early in the series, occur.  Not all of these, however, unfold in a fashion that those who expect long, drawn-out “fight scenes” might desire.  Sapkowski’s characters do fight, but fighting has never been the point of the Witcher stories, and there are often clever asides that adapt 1960s-style anti-war slogans to suit the saga (one such example, has protesters holding up a sign that says, “Make love, not war,” while another sign plays off of that (the wordplay revolving around “hacer/haz” does not translate into English) with a “take (make in the Spanish) a shit each day/”).

Another interesting departure from the expected epic crescendo of rising violence is that as the novel progresses, the action begins to shrink from the panoramic scope of multi-character struggles against those seeking to capture/kill/exploit Ciri/the northern kingdoms toward a smaller, more personal recounting of events.  By the final two chapters, the story in feel and focus resembles much more the early short stories than anything larger-scale.  This may not suit some readers, yet it fits perfectly with the themes that Sapkowski has explored throughout the series, in particular that of how fear and distrust can drive animosities to the point of senseless and horrific violence.  The ambiguous conclusion serves to drive this point home in a suitable and well-devised fashion.  The “coda,” included in the Spanish edition (and also found in the collection Road Without Return/The Road of No Return (Camino sin retorno), “Something ends, something begins,” is not exactly “canon” with the saga, yet it too provides an interesting interpretation of the characters’ futures, albeit one that clashes with how the novel (and series) concludes.

There are few, minor flaws in the story.  As noted above, the framing tale took some times getting used to, as it felt at first like an unnecessary intrusion.  In addition, there were a few moments leading up to the penultimate conclusion that felt a bit underdeveloped, but these did not detract from my enjoyment of the book.  The Lady of the Lake fulfills the promise of the earlier volumes, not just in its plot or characterizations, but in how it further develops themes introduced earlier.  It is not a perfect series, but it certainly is one of the best epic fantasy conclusions that I have read.  It is a series that I will likely re-read again multiple times in the future, something that I rarely say about that particular literary subgenre.

Andrzej Sapkowski, The Swallow’s Tower (La torre de la golondrina)

– Considero – respondió tranquilo – que hablas así por rabia.  Considero que planeas una venganza por rabia.  Y te exhorto calurosamente a que te tranquilices.

– Yo estoy tranquila.  ¿Y la venganza?  Respóndeme:  ¿por qué no?  ¿En nombre de qué?  ¿De razones superiores?  ¿Y qué mejor razón que un orden de las cosas en que los hechos malvados reciban castigo?  Para tu filosofía y tu ética la venganza es un acto feo, censurable, falto de ética, al fin, ilicito.  Y yo pregunto:  ¿y dónde está el castigo para el mal?  ¿Quién lo ha de confirmar, juzgar y medir?  ¿Quién?  ¿Los dioses en los que no crees?  ¿El gran demiurgo creador con el que decidiste sustituir a los dioses?  ¿O puede que la ley?  ¿Quizá la justicia nilfgaardiana, los tribunales imperiales, los prefectos?  ¡Viejo ingenuo!

– ¿Así que ojo por ojo, diente por diente?  ¿Sangre por sangre?  ¿Y por esta sangre, más sangre aún?  ¿Un mar de sangre?  ¿Quieres ahogar el mundo en sangre?  ¿Ingenua y herida muchacha?  ¿Así quieres luchar con el mal, brujilla? (p. 283)

“I think,” he responded tranquilly, “that you speak so from anger.  I think that you plan vengeance due to anger.  And I warmly exhort you that you calm down.”

“I am calm.  And vengeance?  Answer me:  Why not?  In what name?  That of superior reasons?  And what better reason than an order of things in which evil deeds receive punishment?  To your philosophy and ethics vengeance is an ugly act, censurable, lacking ethics, finally, it is illicit.  And I ask you:  And where is the punishment for evil?  Who gets to confirm, judge, and measure?  Who?  The gods in whom you do not believe?  The great demiurge creator with whom you replace the gods?  Or maybe the law?  Perhaps Nilfgaardian justice, the imperial tribunals, the prefects?  Naive old man!”

“So, an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth?  Blood for blood?  And for this blood, more blood still?  A sea of blood?  Do you want to drown the world in blood?  Naive and wounded girl?  So you want to fight with evil, witcheress?”

 The Swallow’s Tower, the sixth and penultimate volume in Andrzej Sapkowski’s Witcher series, is perhaps the most challenging book in the series to date.  When Baptism of Fire concluded, Geralt, Yennefer, and Ciri were separated from each other.  The struggle against the invading Nilfgaardian Empire was still occurring, with guerrilla warfare being waged by the non-human Squirrels against humans being a secondary theater of war.  The stage was set for a full-blown rush toward a series of explosive confrontations.  Yet The Swallow’s Tower takes a different tack than what might be expected from those used to violence-laden, action-oriented approaches toward conflict.

The narrative is a bit more complex, with more external “intrusions” in the form of italicized quotations from works that seem to postdate the narrated events.  In addition, Ciri’s story, which dominates here, seems to be told through a series of flashbacks, as some interim of time has passed from her time with the Rats to her convalescence with the healer Vysogota.  Yet by novel’s end, most of Sapkowski’s narrative choices are resolved to reader satisfaction.  However, it does require a closer attention to detail from the reader in order to decipher the import of the various threads.

The Swallow’s Tower is a darker, bitterer novel than the previous five.  Ciri, Yennefer, and Geralt have suffered much, having passed through their own metaphorical (and in the case of Geralt, virtually literal) “baptisms of fire.”  Ciri’s recounting of her time in the hands of the cruel bounty hunter Leo Bonhart is perhaps the most disturbing of the series, as he and his cohorts, including the renegade sorcerers Rience and Vilgefortz, attempt to exploit the prophecies surrounding Ciri and her “elder blood” for their own ends.

As he did in the earlier novels, Sapkowski eschews long, tedious “world building” descriptions of the settings in favor of developing his expanding cast of characters, often through the use of long dialogues.  Bonhart in particular has his level of nastiness revealed through his conversations with Ciri (and of course, what he inflicts upon her), ultimately creating a truly nasty, evil character without the reader having to be “told” that he is an evil character.  Sapkowski continues here to explore several thematic issues through his dialogues.  In the excerpt quoted above (part of a larger conversation between Ciri and Vysogota), he focuses on the issue of revenge/vengeance and the insidiousness of it.  Young 16 year-old Ciri, wounded grievously in various ways by Bonhart, is filled with rage, just as she is about to discover the source of her power.  Vysogota’s attempt to reason with her is tempered by the reader’s realization that truisms such as his pale in comparison to the very real and immediate hurts that people have inflicted upon one another.  There is no easy, pat answer to Ciri’s questions, only the note that anger behind them can be a two-edged sword that wounds its wielder even more.

Focused as the narrative is on Ciri, not as much is revealed about Yennefer and Geralt’s actions, although there is rarely the sense that Sapkowski has forgotten them; they just are secondary here to Ciri’s tale.  Yet by novel’s end, events are poised on a razor’s edge, as Ciri’s nascent power could soothe the world’s hurts or it could be used for nefarious ends.  It’s tricky to talk about these events, as English-speaking readers will not be familiar with events that occurred in the previous two novels to understand the true import of Ciri’s involvement with the titular Swallow’s Tower.  Perhaps it will suffice to note that the action increases here and has a greater meaning to it due to the narrative succeeding in developing the themes introduced earlier in the series.  In addition, the parallels between certain European myths and legends and the narrative events are strengthened here, in particular references to the Matter of Britain.  Ultimately, The Swallow’s Tower is a good addition to an excellent epic fantasy series that promises surprises for the final volume, The Lady of the Lake.

Andzrej Sapkowski: Books reviewed, books to be reviewed

As I said a few weeks back, I am planning to finish reviewing the remaining novels/stories by Polish writer Andrzej Sapkowski that are available in either English or Spanish translation.  Below are the stories to be reviewed/already reviewed, for those curious to see what will be covered over the next few weeks:

Geralt of Rivia/Witcher novels

The Last Wish/El último deseo

The Sword of Destiny/La espada del destino

Blood of Elves/La sangre de los elfos

Time of Contempt/El tiempo de odio

Baptism of Fire/Bautismo de fuego

The Swallow’s Tower/La torre de la golondrina

The Lady of the Lake/La dama del lago (1 & 2) 

Collection/Short Story

Road Without Return/Camino sin retorno

“The Malady” (in The Apex Book of World SF 2)

Hussite Trilogy

Narrenturm

The Warriors of God/Los guerreros de dios

 

Review plans for October: More Malazan, Booker Prize finalists, Sapkowski

October seems to have arrived with a vengeance here, as the temperatures have been much colder (and rainier) than normal.  I’ve always associated this time of year with reading and I have been busy with a few projects in mind.  Since I have this week and next free for the most part of any other demands on my time (at least until the October 12-14 Southern Festival of Books in Nashville), I plan on (re)reading and reviewing the following (* denotes already read):

Malazan Re-Read Project:

* Reaper’s Gale
* Return of the Crimson Guard 
* Blood Follows
Toll the Hounds (previous review exists)
Stonewielder
The Lees of Laughter’s End
The Healthy Dead
Crack’d Pot Trail
Orb Sceptre Throne
Dust of Dreams (previous review exists)
The Crippled God (previous review exists)
* Forge of Darkness

2012 Booker Prize Shortlist

* Hilary Mantel, Bring Up the Bodies
* Deborah Levy, Swimming Home
* Jeet Thayil, Narcopolis
Tan Twan Eng, Garden of Evening Mists
Alison Moore, The Lighthouse
Will Self, Umbrella

Andrzej Sapkowski Re-read Project:

Geralt Saga (only two books out of the seven (eight in Spanish translation) are available in English)

The Last Wish/El ultimo deseo (previous review exists)
La espada del destino (The Sword of Destiny) (previous review exists)
Blood of Elves/Sangre de los elfos (previous review exists)
Tiempo del odio (Time of Contempt) (previous review exists)
Bautismo de fuego (Baptism by Fire) (previous review exists)
La torre de la golondrina (The Swallow’s Tower)
La dama del lago, pts. I & II (The Lady of the Lake) (will be reviewed together)

The Hussite Trilogy (incomplete in Spanish translation; not available in English to date)

Narrenturm
Los guerreros de dios (The Warriors of God)

Yes, most of the month will be devoted to reading these, although a few more doubtless will be slotted in, although most likely without a review this month.

Which of these works/projects appeal to you most and why?

I see the second volume of Andrzej Sapkowski’s Hussite Trilogy, Los guerreros de dios, has been released in Spanish

For the past five years or so, I’ve been reading Polish writer Andrzej Sapkowski’s fiction in translation, first in English (Last Wish and Blood of the Elves), then in Spanish (the full Geralt saga and the first Hussite Trilogy book, Narrenturm).  I just learned that the second volume, Los guerreros de Dios (God’s Warriors or The Warriors of God, depending on your preference) was just released in Spain on September 21 by Alamut.  Despite my recent cutback on purchasing new fiction, I think this will be a book that I will be importing in the near future from Spain, which should say how much I enjoyed Sapkowski’s previous novels.

Speaking of Sapkowski, maybe after I finish this Malazan re-read/review project, I’ll finish reviewing the last few books in the Geralt series and then start reviewing the first two-thirds of the Hussite Trilogy.  Sound like something that might interest readers?