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The twelfth chapter of Shaman’s Crossing, “Letters from Home,” starts with Nevare glossing his and his remaining comrades’ accommodation to their reduced post-culling numbers. Nevare does note the disparities in punishment among cadets for their actions, however, with him agreeing with Rory’s assertion that they had been set up to fail. Routines reassert themselves, and Nevare finds himself growing closer in friendship with the members of his cohort.

Tensions between centers of power in that cohort, Spink and Trist, are exmplified in how Caulder Stiet is handled. The youth’s annoying common practices are described, as are some of the illicit proclivities of the corps of cadets, and Spink’s clear disapproval of the boy is made evident. Discussion of their relative fathers ensues, leaving Caulder to embarrass himself through revelation of his thoughts about the new nobles’ sons. Trist, whose casual attitudes and easy charisma are attested, takes the boy in hand and escorts him away, drawn by the lure of tobacco. Other cadets follow, and it is clear that Caulder had been ill on the stairs of their residence hall, to the delight of some cadets. Spink rebukes the prank on the boy and Trist’s evasion of punishment for the same, and he is vexed by Trist’s management of the situation to his own privilege.

The continued association between Trist and Caulder receives comment, and Nevare muses both on the benefits Trist receives therefrom and the disparity of distribution of those benefits. He also remarks on his ongoing academic achievement and the struggles of several of his comrades. Amid those remarks, Nevare reports an uncomfortable conversation with his engineering professor, Captain Maw, who suggests he might take a commission as a scout and leave the Academy. Nevare demurs, but he is unsettled by the exchange.

Nevare also reports the experience of being a guest at his uncle’s home on occasional leave-days. Tension remains in place between him and his aunt, Daraleen, and he remarks on not seeing his cousin, Epiny, but he does forge deeper bonds with his uncle, Sefert, as well as his cousins Horotn and Purissa. He also inadvertently occasions an argument between Sefert and Daraleen that leaves him once again quite uncomfortable.

The Academy’s instructional term continues, and Nevare’s hopes for his mounted drills are thwarted by changes to institutional policy. The differences in experience among the cadets shows up, and Nevare complains of the policy change in a letter to his intended. His epistolary practice towards her is remarked upon, and Nevare finds himself comparing his retained token of Carsina’s affection to his comrades’ similar items. When he receives a letter that carries a scent of gardenia, he exults, finding a secret letter from Carsina tucked inside a missive from Yaril, and he replies to both swiftly, the latter with some tension.

Nevare dreams of receiving more mail from Carsina. One such dream turns odd, presenting his sister’s letter as a leaf that withers in his hands and Carsina’s enclosing pressed flowers that grow into him and begin to consume him as they develop faces. The tree woman confronts Nevare, charging him again to turn back Gernia’s advance. He is aghast at the satisfaction he feels from the dream as Spink wakes him, and he cannot return to sleep. The next day sees him suffer from the lack of rest; it also sees him receive letters from home, including one from Carsina that is supposed to have pressed flowers within. Said flowers, despite the speed with which the letter had reached him, have already decayed to dust.

To address the chapter-length issue: the present chapter, in the edition of the novel I’m rereading, runs 26 pages in length, approximately 4.52% of the novel. Halfway through the chapter-count, the novel has used 294 of its pages, approximately 51% of the total. Even allowing for rounding, the novel is slightly front-loaded, although some front-loading might well be expected in what is avowedly the first novel in a series. Such a work might well be expected to take more time in explication than in direct narrative thrust, leaving the bulk of the latter to the anticipated succeeding volumes. That does not much seem to be the case with the present novel, however, especially not given the presence of a distinct narrative arc being completed in the novel already,* albeit one that has appeared to have effects reaching forward into the rest of the text.

Also, for indexing purposes, the following: Bringham House, Caleb, Captain Maw, Carneston House, Carsina Grenalter, Caulder Stiet, Colonel Stiet, Commander’s table, Corporal Dent, Council of Lords, Daraleen Burvelle, Devlin Kester, Epiny Burvelle, Forget-me-not, Gardenia, Garter Anne, Gernia, Gord, Guide Porliet, Hotorn Burvelle, Keft Burvelle, Kellon Spinrek Kester, King’s Cavalla Academy, Kort Braxan, Lady Midowne’s Historical Society, Lavender, Leaf, Lieutenant Wurtram, Lord Grenalter, Natred Verlaney, Nevare Burvelle, Oak, Old Thares, Oron, Pansies, Peppermint, Plainsfolk, Purissa Burvelle, Rory, Scout, Scout Vaxton, Sefert Burvelle, Sergeant Rufet, Seventeen C, Sirlofty, Skeltzin Hall, Spinrek “Spink” Kester, Tobacco, Tree woman, Trist Wissom, Varnian, Violets, Widevale, Yaril Burvelle. The present chapter finally gives Trist’s surname of Wissom; I have gone back to earlier entries that index him and added that surname. I’ll continue to do such things as I encounter fuller names of characters, as I’ve done before.

As might be expected from a chapter with such a title as the present chapter bears, letters feature prominently. There is, of course, a long epistolary tradition in literature, explication of which far exceeds what can be presented comfortably in the present posting and what should be attempted in the same; that the present chapter makes much of letters, despite not directly depicting much of their textual detail, does help to situate the present novel in that literary tradition, something that serves to make it less remore and thus more accessible, increasing its verisimilitude and thus the correspondence of the narrative sub-creation to readerly experience and acculturation (per Tolkien), easing willing suspension of disbelief (per Coleridge). (You see, I can still ground my musings in formall discursive terms, even years outside academe.) And in keeping with that tradition, the details that do emerge bespeak the characters involved; that Carsina’s letters to Nevare are noted for their childishness and disregard of spelling convention suggests that their writer, herself, is both childish and ill-tutored. While it is the case that the spelling of Carsina’s writing follows sound, and it is the case that early orthographies functioned similarly (which I know from experience, having done a bit of work in early English print history and pre-print literatures), Gernia is not presented as being an early-literate society. The presence of seemingly mass-produced, lowbrow series (as witness this) and, if memory serves, newspapers, strongly suggest an active printing industry, and there’d not be such a thing without a large reading public. Instead, it comes off as something of an infantilization of Carsina, which aligns with the prevailing gender roles presented as at work in Gernia, even though several of the female characters presented thus far–Selethe and Yaril Burvelle come to mind–are less…subjected to that particular bit of acculturation.

To turn to another topic: Hobb, in the Realm of the Elderlings series, does a whole lot of foreshadowing, both directly within works and across the decades of composition by calling back from later volumes to occasional off-handed comments in earlier ones. Prophecy is an orienting principle of that body of work. It bleeds over into Soldier Son, with the present chapter showing more than its share thereof. The conversation between Maw, a preferred instructor who is depicted as even-handed and genuinely concerned with his students’ welfare, and Nevare regarding the possibility of the latter serving as a scout suggests, even without the vantage of rereading, that Nevare is not likely to succeed in his pre-selected path.** The issues with the face-bearing flowers that wither away is another example, both realized in the present chapter and portending much else to come. Other things also emerge that seem to foretell associations–and, given the general shape of Hobb’s writing, misfortunes to come. Some of them, if memory serves, are not unpleasant to see; others are less happy for readers. It will be good to see which is which as I continue to reread the works.

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*To return to this conceit: I remain convinced that the first five chapters would read well as a stand-alone novella, and I have to wonder if they constituted a prospectus for the Soldier Son as a whole. So much said, I do not know if other parts of the novel section off so neatly. I am tempted to read the end of “Initiation” as the end of another such section, although I do not think “Sword and Pen” through that chapter stand quite so solidly on their own as the first five chapters do. Still, were I writing up a lesson plan again, I think that probably would be where I split off a new section; front matter through the fifth chapter, then the sixth through eleventh chapters. I’ll need to reread more to figure out where I’d make the next division; it’s been a while since I’ve gone through this novel and the others in the series, after all. But I do look forward to the work of doing so again.

**Going to the affective again, I once again feel for Nevare in this. I’ve addressed the matter more than once, as witness this and this; I don’t know that I need to rehash it again at the moment, but I think it’s worth pointing out both my reaction and why I have it. I suppose I come down as heavily in reader-response theory in my approach, such as it is anymore.

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The eleventh chapter of Shaman’s Crossing, “Initiation,” begins on Nevare’s comments regarding common scheduling at the Academy; five days see classes, a sixth sees religious study and outside studies, and a seventh serves as a free day occupied by performing necessary tasks. Nevare addresses his comfort with the routines and the deepening bonds among him and his bunkmates, most especially with Spink and thus with Gord, who continues to confuse Nevare. Relationships among the cadets of Nevare’s cohort form and take shape, and Nevare finds himself considering his own place among his comrades. He also questions his own leadership abilities.

Comments about the titular initiation rituals follow, describing hazing that is commonly humorous but moves swiftly towards the injurious. Demands from upper-level students are described, and Nevare reports having some trouble sleeping. The latter, found and addressed by Sergeant Rufet, casuses some embarrassment for him, and Nevare looks forward to an end to the hazing as he remarks upon his cohort’s reactions to the same.

Nevare himself is subjected to particularly humiliating hazing, being obliged by two senior cadets to strip to his underwear and march circles while singing loudly. The hazing is interdicted by Cadet Lieutenant Tiber, who bids him dress and return to his dormitory in haste. Once there, Nevare confers with Rory about the event and learns more of the biases in place against the soldier-sons of such new lords as Nevare’s father. Nevare also learns some of Tiber’s reputation on campus, the young officer having something of a reputation as a proponent of social justice, with data to support the same. More of the social structures at work in the cavalla are rehearsed, and implications of those structures are noted, leaving Nevare uncertain of his future.

Following a strange dream, Nevare begins to take small revenges for the hazing inflicted upon him and his comrades. Some of them earn him rebuke; more of them are successful. Rory sees Nevare in action and begins to accompany him on his errands, adding to the mischief as it escalates toward the end of the prescribed initiation period. Said end is a general melee between first-year cadets of different dormitories, one into which Nevare and his comrades rush foolishly but to good effect. Higher-ranking cadets join the fight, but Nevare’s group remains ascendant until Academy faculty and staff break up the fight. Rebukes follow in earnest, and after, Nevare notes some pride in the achievement alongside concern for its consequences. Injured cadets are returned to their dormitories, and an uneasy night follows for Nevare, in which he again dreams strangely of deforestation and shame.

Nevare wakes the next morning and is hustled to the Academy parade grounds along with his cohort. Colonel Stiet addresses the cadets, lecturing them for their misdeeds and promising that those occasioning the violence would be punished. They find that Jared, Trent, and Lofert are all being expelled, the first culling of their Academy class.

To address the chapter-length issue: the present chapter, in the edition of the novel I’m rereading, runs 24 pages in length, approximately 4.16% of the novel. As with the first chapter and the second, the present chapter is roughly proportional to the novel as a whole, being one of 24 chapters and approximately one twenty-fourth the length of the novel as a whole. It is something of a return to normalcy, which is fitting enough to the chapter as a whole, as said chapter establishes a common routine (243) and asserts a dominant social pattern that, while decried, is acknolwedged as a status quo desired by no few of those in power. While not a happy association, it is an apt one; the combination of the two is a commonplace in Hobb’s writing.

Also, for indexing purposes, the following: Bringham House, Cadet Lieutenant Tiber, Caleb, Carneston House, Carsina Grenalter, Colonel Rebin, Colonel Stiet, Corporal Dent, Culling, Engineers’ Regiment, Gord, Jared, Jaris, Keft Burvelle, King’s Cavalla Academy, Kort Braxan, Laudanum, Lofert, Miles, Natred Verlaney, Nevare Burvelle, Old Thares, Ordo, Oron, Rory, Sergeant Duril, Sergeant Rufet, Sharpton Hall, Skeltzin Hall, Spinrek “Spink” Kester, Tobacco, Trist Wissom. Of note is that Miles might be either Jaris or Ordo; Miles is addressed by name (249), one of two haranguing Nevare whom Tiber upbraids–by surname (251). The text, so far as I can tell at this point, does not identify either of the surnames with the given name.

The opening passage of the chapter, noting the common schedule of the Academy, is of some interest. A seven-day week appears to be in place in Gernia, one with a day dedicated to religious observance–not at all unlike the nineteenth-century United States I maintain Gernia evokes. There is the variance that the religious observations are on the sixth day, not the seventh, although the seventh is distinctly recognized; it has its own name, Sevday, and one that moves away from the kind of pagan identification found in common modern English day-names (and day-names in several other languages, I’ll add, although there are only a few I read and so only those few about which I can reliably comment*). I’ve not done the reading I perhaps ought to regarding religiosity in the nineteenth-century United States to be able to confirm it, but I have the sneaking suspicion that the Great Awakenings are being referenced somehow in the setup.

I’ll note, too, that there is some accommodation of something I point out as being a misalignment in the previous chapter. In my comments thereupon, I remark that Hobb describes the Academy as a four-year institution at one point in the text while portraying it as a three-year institution in the main. The character of Cadet Lieutenant Tiber** offers something of a bridge across that divide. Something like a graduate student, Tiber is noted to have “already graduated from the Academy and achieved a lieutenant’s rank” as one of a select few invited to continue studies after the regular program (250). While it may be taken as something of a retcon (and not the first I’ve perceived in Hobb’s writing, as witness this, this, and to some extent this older piece), I think it reads more as the result of having worked backward, retcons usually being between works rather than witihin them. But I’ll admit to being biased in favor of Hobb’s writing, and that might be at work in my thoughts at present.

Of further note is the hzaing at work in the present chapter. While such activities are, at the time of Hobb’s writing and mine, officially abjured, they continue–and they were rampant in prior decades. I am told that, where I went to graduate school, it was once common practice to oblige first-year students to swim the pond out back of the student union–where the institution maintains a small population of small alligators. (The alligators are usually taken to the wild when they reach five or six feet in length.) Where I attended undergrad, there was less of that kind of thing, but that was as much the nature of the school as it was then as anything else. My high school had an abundance of it, and I’m somewhat uncomfortable to admit my own involvement in it, both being hazed and doing the hazing. There is some appropriateness to rites of passage involving trials, and those who have been in uniform can doubtlessly attest to the prevalence of do-the-stupid-thing-because-I-say-so-and-you-have-to-do-what-I-say in every branch of service; I’ve heard enough about such things. And, frankly, boys in their late teens tend toward the foolhardy, which I know because I was one and was not ahead of the trends. All this is to say that, despite the distaste such practices might now elicit, they fit well within the milieu Hobb stakes out in the novel.

To once again indulge my propensity towards affective reading: I find that I again feel for Nevare. The concern that he may not be fit for command, when he had been trained all his life to be placed into a position of command (if with some caveats and concerns) is one familiar in form to me, if not in specifics. I’ve had to leave off things I had thought I would do, careers toward which I had bent my being, more than once; it wasn’t easier the last time than the first. So I feel for the fictional young man, foolish as it may be for me to do so. For me, there have been fallbacks and support; while the job I’m in now isn’t one I’d’ve thought to take at any point much before I took it, it has its benefits, and I find myself perhaps over-identifying with it (although its prospects are and remain better than most of what I’d thought to do before, and the pay’s no worse and often better). It is good, I think, to be reminded of such things as I am in my affective reading; even if things have been otherwise than I’d intended, they are yet good. I can hope for as much for many people.

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*Spanish comes to mind for me, given where I live. Martes, miércoles, jueves, and viernes all call to mind the Roman pantheon, while sabado is a direct rendering of Sabbath–although domingo, Sunday or Lord’s Day is usually the one on which observances are made. This is not out of line, to be certain; much of the nineteenth century in the United States attended to conflict with and takeover of Spanish-speaking regions, the legacies of which continue to bring about some good and much ill.

**Given the presence of Cadet Captain Jaffers, who appears to be the ranking “regular” cadet, Tiber’s title seems an oddity; a Cadet Lieutenant would, at first blush, be subordinate to a Cadet Captain. Admittedly, Cadet Zeroth-Class would be an awkward construction, and other titles that suggest themselves to my mind (Lieutenant-Specialist, perhaps) are no less so. That’s not without sense, however; being a graduate student is a liminal thing and exceedingly awkward, as I say who have more experience being one (and straight out of undergrad!) than many.

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The tenth chapter of Shaman’s Crossing, “Classmates,” starts with Nevare waking to drums in the darkness. He is informed by Kort that the night is ending, and he and his fellow cadets begin to make ready to face the day. They joins others in assembling before dawn on the Academy’s parade grounds, where Corporal Dent greets them and harangues them for their slovenly appearance, focusing much of his attention on Gord. It is only the formal opening of the Academy’s day that halts his tirade against them.

With the group of cadets formed up, Nevare takes stock of himself and his surroundings, noting the uniformity of the cadets and their dispositions. Inspections proceed, with upperclassmen identifying deficiencies for corrections. That done, colors are posted to a martial tune, and Colonel Stiet addresses the cadets en masse. His speech is followed by those of cadet officers, including Cadet Captain Jaffers, who leads Nevare’s dormitory.

Breakfast follows, and the school day ensues. Nevare is, with his cohort, directed from class to class. Military history begins the day, followed by mathematics. A prank on Corporal Dent by his own cohort leads to Nevare’s group being made late to the following Varnian course, and a hurried session of cleaning following a failed room inspection follows, then lunch and a two-hour block of engineering and drafting. An afternoon of drill then takes place, along with additional marching to work off indicated demerits. So much done, Nevare proceeds to independent studies, at which he and Gord assist Spink, whose mathematical acumen is lacking; Nevare notes Gord’s proficiency in mathematics with appreciation.

Dinner follows, after which the Academy’s colors are retired for the evening and the cadets are dismissed to their quarters. Some are caught out of sorts by lights-out, and Nevare retires wearily after prayers.

To address the chapter-length issue: the present chapter, in the edition of the novel I’m rereading, runs 19 pages in length, approximately 3.29% of the novel. It is not the first to do so, the fifth and eighth chapters being earlier examples. The present chapter does seem to function differently from the others, however, being (still) largely explictaory rather than serving as a section-break or a simple bridge.

Also, for indexing purposes, the following: Cadet Captain Jaffers, Captain Infal, Captain Maw, Captain Rush / Rusk, Carneston House, Carneston Riders, Caulder Stiet, Colonel Stiet, Corporal Dent, Gernia, Gernian, Gilshaw, Gord, “Into the Fray,” Journal of a Varnian Commander, King’s Cavalla Academy, Kort Braxan, Lofert, Mr. Arnis, Natred Verlaney, Nevare Burvelle, Rory, Sergeant Duril, Sergeant Rufet, Skeltzin Hall, Spinrek “Spink” Kester, Trist Wissom, Varnian. Although the present chapter is also heavily explicatory, it does not introduce much in the way of new places, focusing on routines and people, many of the latter already familiar. Among the explication but not necessarily needing indexing is the organization of the cavalla into “patrols, troops, regiments, brigades, and divisions” (226); this largely follows historical United States breakdowns, although there are always oddities to be found.

I have to note what appears to be a typographical error. When Nevare’s mathematics professor (and given that the school is a military academy teaching young adults, I default to that term) is introduced (229), he is referred to as Captain Rusk, a reference repeated while Nevare is in his class that day. Later, however, as Nevare and his cohort address their assignments, he is referred to as Captain Rush (238). It is a small thing, the confusion between the two, and one I’m not unlikely to have happen; those who’ve seen my handwriting know it’s not the easiest read, and my cursive hs and ks do look a lot alike. Too, it’s a small enough shift that even a diligent proofreader, working through the text in a large block, might well miss. For whatever reason, however, it caught my eye, a blemish on a text I really do want to like–and so far do.

It’s not the only blemish that attracted my attention. Earlier in the novel, the remark is made that Nevare expects to study at the Academy for four years (164), yet the present chapter notes that “Each dormitory [at the Academy] housed cadets from all three years” (225). The former is a sensible enough thing; the current military academies in the United States, as well as many of the colleges and universities operating undergraduate programs at this time, work on a four-year curriculum, so that a four-year course of study would align to the likely expectations of the novel’s presumed primary readership. The latter is, from the vantage of rereading, the notion with which the novel proceeds (for the most part; there’s an adjustment that comes up later on). The mismatch annoys somewhat.

More happily, I note with some interest the inclusion, again, of in-milieu works into the present chapter, “Into the Fray” and Gilshaw’s Journal of a Varnian Commander. Aside from increasing the verisimilitude Hobb values, military bands and old-language military commentaries being things, I take delight as an old bandsman and as an erstwhile student of Latin in seeing such things as I did in my college years being represented. It’s a small, affective-reading thing, but I like it, nonetheless.

I also note some of what Metsäpelto discusses in the treatment of Gord. In the previous chapter, Gord (whose name does partake of the emblematic, the word evoking to my reading the Spanish gordo, meaning fat, although usage has it more as a neutral descriptor than a term of disparagement) is fat-shamed, belittled by Dent and others. In the present, Dent and others harangue the cadet for his weight, Dent calling him “Gorge” (224) amid other insults. Even Nevare finds himself wanting to deride the youth for his form, something placed into tension with his obvious scholarly acumen (240-41). There’s more to come, of course; Metsäpelto would not have been able to say so much were there not. But seeing where things emerge has its attractions.

To return to the affective: I spent more years in college than most people do, and I spent quite a few of those years living on campus. Even though I was not an academy student–I’ve never had the athleticism to be one, and there are other qualities I lacked and still lack–I’ve certainly had the experience of being rushed from class to class in confusion. I’ve had the experience of being talked at for a solid block of time. I’ve had the experience of being urged into competition against classmates. I’ve had the experience of being singled out for being late. I’ve had the experience of finding a favorite professor, clearly. I’ve had the experience of finding out just how smart I am (not). And all of this is to say that I find Hobb’s depiction in the present chapter convincing, which is a good thing.

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The ninth chapter of Shaman’s Crossing, “The Academy,” begins with Nevare noting being too early deposited at the titular school. The general layout of the facility is described as Keft brings Nevare to check in with the institution’s head, Colonel Stiet, meeting the colonel’s son, Caulder, as they go. Keft and the colonel exchange introductions, and he introduces his son to his new commander. Conversation follows, somewhat awkwardly, with Nevare listening until Caulder returns and is directed to conduct Nevare to his quarters.

Nevare follows Caulder across the Academy grounds to an older building, where he presents him to Sergeant Rufet. The sergeant brusquely takes Nevare in charge, rebuking the new cadet for his reliance on the youth, and Nevare stumbles through his initial interaction with the man before seeing to his billeting. Reporting to his quarters and reminiscing wryly on them, Nevare meets Natred Verlaney and Kort Braxan, exchanging introductions with the other young men as he sets about securing his goods. They are joined soon after by Spink Kester, and the four are contrasted with one another as they begin their acquaintance.

The initial exchanges are interrupted by the arrival of Nevare’s father in his quarters, and introductions are made between the new cadets and the elevated soldier. Keft speaks highly of Spink’s father, the late Kellon Spinrek Kester, the manner of whose death is something of an exemplar in Gernian history. Keft has Nevare accompany him back to his conveyance to make his departure, offering fatherly advice and a warning about Colonel Stiet before giving his son his blessing and heading back to his brother’s estate.

Alone, Keft returns to his quarters and is greeted by his roommates and others of his incoming class of cadets—Rory, Gord, and Trist—who are described in varying levels of detail as they fall in together and begin exchanging stories and experiences. Rory makes note of news from his cousin Jordie of “cullings,” presumptive reductions of Academy cohorts, and the implications of those reductions are traced. Others join the group—Oron, Caleb, Jared, Trent, and Lofert—and are introduced and described.

At length, the dinner bell sounds, and Nevare joins his cohort in heading toward the meal. They are taken in charge by Corporal Dent, a second-year cadet under whose authority they are placed, and he makes a point of haranguing them physically and verbally as they go to and arrive at dinner. Back in their quarters afterward, Nevare and his companions discuss events for a time before some good-natured roughhousing ensues. Dent arrives to break up matters, chiding the new cadets and informing them of expectations for the next day.

So much done, Dent departs, leaving the new cadets to confer. Rory notes that such haranguing is to be expected, and most of the new cadets make ready for bed. A few, led by Trist, go to play dice, meeting with some resistance by the more rules-minded of the soldier sons. Spink, in particular, rebukes Trist, not only for the violation but for putting his fellows into the position of being obliged to report the violation. Trist offers a mocking apology and departs to his own room, followed by Oron and Gord. Nevare reflects on a lesson from Sergeant Duril, and after some further discussion that takes in Trist’s intransigence, Nevare finds his way to bed and sleep.

To address the chapter-length issue: the present chapter, in the edition of the novel I’m rereading, runs 18 pages in length, approximately 3.12% of the novel. The chapter runs long on explication, fittingly enough for the introduction of a new setting, although it must be remarked that there is a lot of explication in place in the novel already. Some of that is the nature of a first volume of an announced trilogy; following the model of Lord of the Rings, it might be better to regard the series as a single work than as a collection of separate works (although the case can be made for separation, as noted previously). In that case, spending so much of the initial novel on explication makes some sense, as it must introduce characters, the milieu as a whole, and specific locations within it. Since the Soldier Son moves away from the Tolkienian tradition in several ways, it cannot rely on quite the same commonplaces and short-hands to familiarize readers as a more “normal” fantasy work, but must explain more things in more detail for a readership that is, presumably, not so familiar with tropes of the American West as some might be. This is true whether that familiarity rises from experience growing up in particular parts of the world (for example) or from doing a lot of reading, whether of history or of Western fiction (although readers of both genres might well find commonalities, as I’ve gestured towards and as others might well have remarked with more force).

Also, for indexing purposes, the following: Antoleran, Caleb, Carneston House, Caulder Stiet, Cavalla, Colonel Stiet, Corporal Dent, Culling, Dewara’s stone, Ebonis, Fit for Command, General Tersy Harwod, Gord, Hare Ridge, Jared, Jordie, Keft Burvelle, Kellon Spinrek Kester, King’s Cavalla Academy, Kort Braxan, Lieutenant Geeverman, Lofert, Natred Verlaney, Nevare Burvelle, Old Thares, Oron, Penny Adventure, Plainsfolk, Red Desert, Roark Kester, Rory, Sefert Burvelle, Sergeant Duril, Sergeant Rufet, Spinrek “Spink” Kester, Trent, Trist Wissom. As noted, there’s a lot of explication going on, so there is a concomitant quantity of items introduced.

Of note in that explication is the assertion not just that there is writing to be found, that Gernia is a literate culture (established previously and reasserted emphatically here), but the identification of specific works of note within it, both highbrow and lowbrow in culture. Harwood’s Fit for Command and the Penny Adventure pieces one new cadet loans out among his comrades are the easy examples in the present chapter. The latter calls to mind the penny dreadfuls originating in Victorian England and soon finding parallels in the westward-pressing United States, especially in dime novels; in both cases, the works evoked are cheaply made and produced, disseminated widely, and generally associated with the lurid if not the lewd, which evocation is affirmed by Nevare’s reactions to his initial perusal of such a volume.

The former calls to mind any number of military histories such as have long graced bookstore shelves, glosses of people and events written by those in command after they have relinquished command, allowing them not only to provide “authoritative” comments on events and so shape understandings of them, but also to allow their authors to continue to profit from their time in service past when that service ends. In effect, it’s the kind of thing that such colonialist powers as Gernia do to provide ongoing ideological justification for their colonialist projects, reaffirming the parallel of Gernia to the manifest-destiny-driven United States despite the occasional motion away from a one-to-one correspondence between the two. And it does return to Hobb’s writerly emphasis on the value of writing (about which some relevant remarks can be found here, here, and here, among others); literacy and its products are held up in the juxtaposition of the two cited in-milieu pieces as pervasive of Gernian culture, reinforcing the importance of the written word within a work of writing.

The present chapter, with its emphasis on a description of a boarding school and new roommates, brings to mind a series of books and movies centered on a certain scar-headed orphan wizard, the popularity of which series were high at the time Shaman’s Crossing was published (and presumably written). While detailed comments on those series exceed what I am willing to give here, and for several reasons, the thought occurs to me that part of what is going on in the present chapter functions as an attempt to capitalize on the aforementioned popularity. (I am not treating intention; I have no way to know what it is, and what is meant to happen is far, far less important than what actually happens.) It’s a sensible enough thing, in itself; selling books helps writers keep writing, and I happen to be glad Hobb has kept writing. But that it is sensible does not mean it does not attract attention; indeed, it would be good if more people paid more attention to what is sensible—myself included.

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Read the previous entry in the series here.
Read the next entry in the series here.

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The eighth chapter of Shaman’s Crossing, “Old Thares,” starts with Nevare lying to his father again, claiming illness as a reason to keep abed rather than look upon the depredations of rapacious forestry that had disturbed him. At length, Nevare and his father disembark from Rhosher’s barge and spend a day in Canby, which town and its crowds are described. From there, Nevare and his father board a jankship, which is itself described as it makes good speed downriver towards Old Thares. Nevare generally comports himself well while aboard, although there is a strained exchange surrounding his cousin, Epiny, and Nevare is somewhat unsettled by the signs of long settlement along the Soudana River.

Keft attempts to offer Nevare some comfort and advice as they proceed downriver, noting that his time constrained by urban living will be brief enough, and Nevare attempts to find solace in his father’s words before they dock in Old Thares. There, they find Sefert has sent a wagon for them and their things, and Nevare wonders along the way to the old Burvelle estate if they are being insulted by his uncle. When they are received, however, he finds that such is not the case; Sefert appears to delight entirely in his younger brother’s good fortune, and Nevare remarks the differences between how his uncle acts with him and his father alone and his earlier encounters with the man.

As Keft and Sefert talk, Nevare notes comments about his family and surprises about fathers’ concerns. He also is informed of changes at the Cavalla Academy, including a new commandant, Colonel Stiet. He further overhears discussion of potential unrest among nobles before he finds himself addressed directly. His father and uncle speak of the Plainsfolk and the Specks, Sefert needling Keft “with one of the ‘noble savage’ sentiments that had been so popular of late” (195) and being somewhat surprised by his brother’s regard for his erstwhile opponents even as he espouses a need to correct their ways of life.

That evening, after Nevare retires, he receives an uncomfortable visit from Epiny. She asks him about his travels and experiences, finding his replies unsatisfactory and labeling him “ordinary.” He protests the description unsuccessfully and takes some time to fall asleep after she leaves. The next morning, he wakes uncomfortably again, a chambermaid entering and seeing to his room. After breakfast, he finds himself bound for the Academy following an awkward farewell, and along the way, Keft offers more advice to his son, bidding him remain “true to what you have been taught and to the honor of your family” (203) as they arrive at the King’s Cavalla Academy.

To address the chapter-length issue: the present chapter, in the edition of the novel I’m rereading, runs 19 pages in length, approximately 3.29% of the novel. The contrast to the previous chapter is clear; the present serves mostly as a bridge from an important point to an important point, rather than itself offering an important point–unless possibly in foreshadowing matters (although Soldier Son is less concerned with prognostication than is Realm of the Elderlings) and in introducing Nevare’s cousin Epiny. It’s not the case that every portion of a work has to be of equal heft in terms of driving plot or characterization, to be sure, and it is of use, if only for narrative cohesion, to at least gloss how a character gets from point to point to point within a story and within that story’s world.

Also, for indexing purposes, the following: Arms Institute, Canby, Captain Rhosher, Carsina Grenalter, Cavalla Academy, Colonel Rebin, Coloniel Stiet, Council of Lords, Dahlias, Daraleen, Dark Evening, Defford, Elisi Burvelle, Epiny Burvelle, Gernia, Gernian, Hotorn Burvelle, Ister River, Junkshop, Keft Burvelle, King Troven, Landingers, Landsing, Mouth City, Nevare Burvelle, Old Thares, Plainsfolk, Rosse Burvelle, Sadia, Sefert Burvelle, Selethe Burvelle, Sirlofty, Soudana River, Specks, Steelshanks, Swanneck, Tea, Tefa River, Tobacco, Vanze Burvelle, Wind wizard, Yaril Burvelle. I note with some interest the reliance on tea rather than coffee, which seems at odds with the United States parallel–but then, tea remains a drink of choice even now, and, as I’ve remarked previously, one-to-one correspondence is not necessary to establish a parallel or a reference.

I am reading affectively again, I know, but there are comments from Nevare that grip me. One of them is at the end of the first paragraph in the chapter: “The world I had expected to live in was vanishing before I could explore it” (184). While it is the case that I have been a student of the past, I have worked hard not to be such a person as fantasizes about living in it; I would not be able to do what I do without the resources that living where and when I have lived have afforded me. At the same time, the training that I have had during my life has tended to suit me to professions that, while extant, were far more accessible in the past than they are now. Too, perhaps because I am stultifying from a long-existing staidness, perhaps because I have a soon-to-be-teenager in the home, I am more and more aware of the ways things are changing in ways I find difficult or impossible to understand. (As often, my failure of understanding is my fault rather than the fault of the thing I fail to understand; I try not to be on the “kids these days” bandwagon, knowing I wasn’t ideal.) Still, there is clearly some part of me still puerile that the comment of someone less than half my age rings in me as it does–and it does.

And on the topic of staidness, there is Nevare’s discomfort with being thought “ordinary” by his cousin. It’s another thing that has me reading affectively, sympathizing with Nevare more than is perhaps good for me to do. Despite my staidness and stolidity, my tendency to do what I am told and avoid taking risks, I long fancied myself as being exceptional. I am not, and I know it; even though there are things I have to offer (such as writing support services and tailored instructional materials), there are things I do not know and others I do not do well, no more or less than most folks. But when I was Nevare’s age (and older than that by more than is comfortable to admit), I still thought I was special; to be told otherwise and to have it decisively demonstrated was…unpleasant. Even now, when I know the truth of it, having the reminder is uncomfortable. So, again, I find myself feeling along with Nevare, and if it is the case that such a reading is at odds with scholarly insight, I operate mostly outside academe, anyway, and the fostering of empathy is supposed to be one of the things fiction is supposed to do for us. That I am drawn along in such a way might then be called a measure of success for the work as I read through the first third of it.

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Read the previous entry in the series here.
Read the next entry in the series here.

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The seventh chapter of Shaman’s Crossing, “Journey,” opens with musings on Keft’s military education, contrasting it with the expected course of the same for Nevare, and a gloss of the history that led up to the establishment of the King’s Cavalla Academy that Nevare expects to attend. Preparations for said attendance receive substantial attention, and a farewell party is held in his honor.

Details of the party follow, noting its setting and the extent of its guest-list. Concerns of social class are reported, with Keft inviting nearby landholders regardless of rank and Selethe inviting peers regardless of distance. Nevare finds himself hoping to be well regarded by Carsina, reviewing the progress of their relationship since his coming of age and the announcement of their expected betrothal. The party progresses, Nevare doing what he can to discharge his duties as the guest of honor as well as an older brother, the latter when he follows Carsina and Yaril outside and moves to intercede as Kase Remwar emerges into their company. A tense exchange between Nevare and Kase follows, and Yaril feigns having lost an earring to defuse the situation and allow Nevare time alone with Carsina.

Carsina makes flirtatious gestures towards Nevare, to which he responds, and the two talk together of upcoming events. Carsina expresses concerns for Nevare that he sets aside, and the two kiss briefly until Yaril returns with a feigned rebuke. Kase also returns, noting to Nevare that his own father is conferring with Keft about the possibility that he and Yaril will be engaged. As Kase returns to the party, Nevare muses on Carsina and finds her gardenia-scented handkerchief surreptitiously tucked into his jacket. He is somewhat distracted as the party winds to its conclusion.

The next morning sees Nevare set out for the Academy, his father and Duril accompanying him; he takes with him the stone removed from his body after his experience with Dewara, citing it as a reminder of the imminence of death. Selethe bids her son farewell, and the three men head out. Duril helps situate the Burvelles on a barge going downstream and leaves them to their travels. Keft notes the presence of Plainspeople working the deck and complains to Nevare about it as the journey gets off to an easy start, the barge, its captain (Rhosher), and other passengers described.

Nevare reflects on earlier trips to the capital, focusing his recollections on a visit to the estate of his uncle and the break in family tradition that had accompanied Keft’s elevation. Trophies of wars and hunts are described, and Nevare muses on social shifts and family tensions caused by the ennobling of a number of military officers. He also considers his familial obligations, and he looks with some trepidation towards the next stage of his life. Keft reminds Nevare of the coming demands upon him, trying to focus his attention and to give him something of a head start on his studies as the journey downriver passes with little incident.

One incident that does occur centers on a wind wizard Nevare sees sailing upstream. Rhosher comments on the increasing rarity of such practice, and Nevare watches aghast as one of the other passengers on the barge shoots at the wizard, laughing at the disruption of the magic being practiced. One of the Plainspeople working the deck assails the shooting passenger, tossing his gun overboard, and Keft removes Nevare from the deck, trying to ease Nevare’s concerns and reminding him that Rhosher is the law on his vessel. Soon after, the other passengers and the working Plainspeople are put off the barge, new hands are hired, and Nevare and Keft remain the only passengers aboard.

Nevare and Keft intend to leave the barge in Canby, the town and their intended journey onward from there described. As they approach Canby, however, Nevare finds himself wakened by his awareness of a nearby forest. Rushing to the deck, he looks out upon it and finds himself strangely stirred to a religious experience: “this was one of the old gods, this was Forest himself, and I almost went to my knees before his glory” (177). His reverie is disturbed by his father’s approach, and the latter opines about the forest being the former border of Gernia. Keft departs, and Nevare attempts to reclaim his communion with the woods to no avail.

At breakfast that day, Nevare becomes aware of a foul odor that Rhosher notes is the timber-harvest going on at Loggers. When Nevare goes on deck to look out, he is aghast at the clear-cutting he sees, sickened by it and the rapacious greed it bespeaks. Rhosher comments wryly on it, noting the interference with his work that the lumber work occasions.

To address the chapter-length issue: the present chapter, in the edition of the novel I’m rereading, runs 31 pages in length, approximately 5.37% of the novel. The joke might well be made that “The Journey” covers a lot of ground, relatively speaking. If it is the case, as I’ve suggested is possible, that the first few chapters of the novel can be read as something of a stand-alone work, then the present chapter serves as explication for the “next” part; its length, then, makes sense.

Also, for indexing purposes, the following: Arms Institute, Battle lord, Bison, Calabash boat, Canby, Captain Rhosher, Carsina Grenalter, Carson Helsey, Cavalla, Cecile Poronte, Colonel Haddon, Colonel Kempson, Council of Lords, Cuerts, Daraleen Burvelle, Dewara, Ecclesiastical School of Saint Orton, Elephant, Elisi Burvelle, Forest, Gardenia, Gernia, Handkerchief, Helsied Cannon, Humpdeer, Ister River, Jankship, Kase Remwar, Keft Burvelle, King Troven, King’s Cavalla Academy, Lady Currens, Lady Grenalter, Lady Remwar, Landsing, Loggers, Long Wall, Lord Grenalter, Lord Keesing, Lord Remwar, Major Tanrine, Mrs. Grazel, Muskets, Nevare Burvelle, Old Thares, Plainspeple, Roger Holdthrow, Rosse Burvelle, Sara Mallor, Sefert Burvelle, Sergeant Duril, Sirlofty, Soudana River, Spond tree, Steelshanks, Tefa River, Tobacco, Vanze Burvelle, Widevale, Wind wizard, Writ, Yaril Burvelle. It might be expected that a longer chapter would include more items of note. The sheer volume of material present, however, serves to obfuscate what will be important later (which frustrates Chekhov’s gun) while at the same time fostering verisimilitude (which is of importance to Hobb); in Nevare’s travels as in life, there is more than can be explored in detail but that is nonetheless present. Indeed, there is something of the Tolkienian tradition at play in the present chapter, glimpses of such islands and cities and vistas as in Tolkien’s Letter 151–but then, Hobb does situate herself in the Tolkienian tradition even when she move away from it.

There is another Tolkienian correspondence in the present chapter in Nevare’s reactions to the clear-cutting going on near Loggers (another example of Hobb’s emblematic naming, not so prevalent in the Soldier Son as in the Realm of the Elderlings). As noted, Nevare’s vision of the forest he passes aboard Rhosher’s barge is a religious experience for him, one that offers an entirely different life than he has been raised to lead and to want to lead; it prompts him to reconsider himself, his place in the world, and the world itself, if only briefly. Called to mind are the regard for Lothlórien and the regard for Fangorn Forest remarked upon by a number of characters in Lord of the Rings. Similarly called to mind is the revulsion with which Fangorn and the other Ents regard the desolation occasioned by Isengard; given the timing of the novel, scenes from the Jackson films come to mind as informing the description Hobb presents in the novel. And there is a similarly ecocritical strain in the surrounding discussion between Nevare and Rhosher about the rapacious deforestation going on, although it is clear that Nevare perceives the problem more fully than does Rhosher.

Related, I notice in Nevare’s list of trophies in Sefert’s estate an interesting variety of items, including “bison pelts and elephant feet and even a wide rack of barbed antlers from a humpdeer [Keft] had sent back to his ancestral home” (167). The second of those serves to frustrate some of the earlier-identified association between Gernia and the United States, although the bison pelts definitely reinforce the association and the humpdeer might; such descriptions as are present call to mind moose, although the geography does not generally suit the species so well as it does mule deer or white-tailed deer, and it’s not necessarily the case that each species has a one-to-one correspondence with a real-world animal, just as it need not be the case that there is a one-to-one correspondence between fictional nation-states and real ones despite strong parallels identifiable between them. Still, the spread of animals whose remains are on display suggests that the continent on which Gernia exists is a large one–again, Tolkienian distant horizons can be seen.

Unrelated but of note is Nevare’s attention to Carsina’s breasts. The narrative is from Nevare’s perspective in retrospection, so it can be taken to reflect his attitudes; he is still a teenager in the events of the present chapter, and he gives every indication of being heterosexual. I am some years past being eighteen as I write this, but I am not so far past it now and was certainly not so far past it when then novel hit shelves (I was 22 at the time and had not long before started graduate school) that I do not recall how much of my attention was given to such things at that point in my life. (Too much, in the event, which is not the fault of those at whom I looked and about whom I thought.) Although earlier chapters do point out ways in which Nevare is…more docile than might be expected of a boy or young man of his age, that he does pay attention where he does, even if not necessarily flattering, is humanizing. I suppose it points towards at least portions of Hobb’s anticipated audience.

As something of an aside, I note that the present chapter calls attention to Nevare’s hair–namely, its removal. Keft gives Nevare a close, close haircut: “My entire head was now almost as bald as my scar….The stubble of blond hair was almost invisible against my naked pink scalp” (155). It’s certainly an appropriate enough thing; Nevare is on his way to formally enter military service, and such haircuts are hallmarks of such entries, as I’ve noted and as most any man who has processed into basic training in the United States can attest. But it’s also evocative of Hobb’s other work; coming to Soldier Son from Realm of the Elderlings, I am in mind of haircuts as signs of grief in the Six Duchies, examples of which are here, here, and here, among others. And I note with some interest that both major narrating protagonists, Nevare and Fitz, receive such haircuts in Chapters 7, as witness this. Although the chapter-number parallel is likely coincidental, it still attracts attention, making the idea of reading the characters against each other more attractive a prospect. While I’ve already gestured towards that scholarly someday, it may need to move up the list.

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