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The sixteenth chapter of Shaman’s Crossing, “A Ride in the Park,” starts with Nevare being worken by a servant and attending religious services. Said services are described, along with Nevare’s intense prayers and Epiny’s seeming irreverence. The meditation that follows is briefly glossed, and Nevare and Spink have an easy afternoon. Spink takes the opportunity to consult closely with Epiny, while Nevare applies himself to his studies.

At dinner that evening, Nevare mentions Gord, occasioning questions from Epiny and Sefert, which leads to a long conversation in which Sefert presses Spink and Nevare for uncomfortable details about their experiences of the Academy. The assaults on Gord and on Cadet Lieutenant Tiber are reported, and Sefert offers rebuke to his nephew for his lack of forthrightness. As Sefert asks more questions and learns more of the situation at the Academy, he begins to opine on the political state of Gernia, noting tensions among the nobility, both between old and new nobles and within each group. Acknowledging Nevare’s concerns, he presses on to note the threat of civil war, remarking with candor on the state of the royal finances and the implications of King Troven’s expansionist ideas. That Nevare has been kept ignorant of such matters is noted, although Spink’s direct experience of the tensions and problems attendant upon the expansion is atteted.

Nevare muses on the differences in how his father and uncle had been educated, and he retires for the evening in poor spirits. The next morning, he wakes early and with some annoyance, which is furthered as Epiny intrudes on him amid his morning toilet. After a pointed exchange, he agrees to go riding with her and Spink, and their progress to and through a notable park. Nevare worries about the perceived propriety of doing so and is exasperated by Epiny as she spurs her horse into a headlong race across the park, guiding the trio to a less-frequented area thereof. There, after chiding Nevare for his worry about her and hearing Spink’s remarks about his family’s perspective on women’s education, Epiny proposes a séance, noting that the previous evening’s experience had both not been one and had been Nevare’s doing. She describes her experience of being a medium and demonstrates it for the cadets, speaking with voices not entirely her own.

One of those voices is that of Tree Woman, who upbraids and threatens Nevare before departing and leaving Epiny spent. Nevare’s old scalp-wound pains him, and he and Spink manage to revive Epiny and return her home, where she begins to convalesce. That she is often thus afflicted worries Nevare, and the two ready to return to the Academy in worse spirits yet.

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–entirely average by that measure. It is increasingly clear as the novel proceeds, however, that length is not an indicator of narrative importance; the if mentioned in earlier discussions of the point (such as this one) is clearly not in place. Were I still working at the front of the classroom, or were I yet writing lesson plans, I might well ask students about the function of that disjunction; it might well be expected that more resources would be spent on things of more importance, so there should be some significance, some thing being done, that the expectation is thwarted. It is the kind of thing that invites consideration, and not only in literature, where it can serve as training to attend to such details and to consider the ramificaitons of the same.

Also, for indexing purposes, the following: Barrier Mountains, Brandy, Cadet Lieutenant Tiber, Caulder Stiet, Celeste, Colonel Stiet, Council of Lords, Cutthew’s Park, Cyclist, Daraleen Burvelle, Epiny Burvelle, Gord, Grand Promenade, Guide Porilet, Holy Writ, King Darwell, King Troven, King’s Cavalla Academy, King’s Road, Landsing, Laurel, Lord Tiber, Necessary Tasks, Nevare Burvelle, Old Thares, Punishments, Purissa Burvelle, Rails, Rustian Sea, Sabbath, Sefert Burvelle, Sirlofty, Spinrek “Spink” Kester, Tree Woman, Trist Wissom, Varnian. It is not the longest list of indexable items, certainly, although there are some items of particular interest.

The inclusion of the cyclist in the list above perhaps deserves some explanation. He is encountered only in passing, forced aside as Nevare and Spink pursue Epiny (382). The chief interest I have in him is his suggestion of a more exact time-parallel for the novels to the United States. The mention of the cyclist in the text is matter-of-fact; there is no excitement or assertion of unusualness for the cycle or its rider to be in place. Consequently, the cycle cannot be a new thing in Gernia at the time the novel takes place–especially given that Nevare, being provincial, seemingly regards it as a commonplace. The bicycle, as such, occupied a position as a commonplace in the late nineteenth century in the United States after having been present for some decades, per the Smithsonian. Join that with the King’s Road, something mimetic of the Transcontinental Railroad (in addition to the off-handed mention of “rail lines in Old Thares” [379]) first completed in 1869 but under construction in 1863 and begun in preliminary conceptual fashion in the decades before, as well as the overt efforts at suppression of indigenous peoples and the rumblings of civil war (375), and the parallel between the novel’s milieu and its real-antecedent would seem to be sometime around 1860. Again, it is inexact, and some ideas are in tension with one another, but I’ve remarked before (here, here, and here, most relevantly) that a one-to-one correspondence is not necessary for a literary parallel to be present.

I note of Epiny’s described and presented experience as a medium parallells–again, inexact but identifiable–with descriptions of the Skill in the Realm of the Elderlings corpus. (I know that the Soldier Son novels deserve consideration as themselves, but they are also part of a broader body of work by the author; they cannot be considered, not wholly or authentically, without recourse to the context in which they are composed. And it’s not like this is the first point at which I’ve pointed out the connections between the works, as witness “Crossing the Bridge” and “Journey” already linked above, as well as comments regarding “Magic and Iron.”) In the case of the Skill, practitioners are admonished to be wary of giving into the magic’s euphoric pull; they are also advised, when confronted with much worked Skill-stone, to hold back from fully immersing themselves in it, lest they be overtaken by those whose memories are stored in such workings. More of the latter than the former appears to be at work in the present chapter, with Epiny begging that Spink and Nevare not “let me get lost here in the wind” (389) and being beseiged by surrounding spirits. That she is pushed through by Tree Woman (391) also seems to echo Verity’s pushing through August via the Skill and its effects, although Epiny does not suffer so much as the Farseer cousin. While it is the case that such depictions as of Epiny correspond with what I had already known about such things–some friends and some other associates follow such practices and study them, and I do talk with people about their work–that there are some echoes of Hobb’s earlier works continue to attract my attention.

I additionally note, reading affectively again, Epiny’s and Spink’s comments about social expectations of Gernian women. Epiny continues to chafe against the idea that Nevare espouses of proper womanhood; Spink notes his mother’s suffering from not knowing what she needed to know to ensure that she was not defrauded (383-85). I remark in my comments on the previous chapter that Epiny voices something like second-wave feminism; Spink, in relating the difficulties his mother faced because she had not been taught much and her desire that her daughters would not be in such a position, brings to mind not only my aspirations for my daughter’s education (I have long said to her that I will not always be able to be here for her, which she hates but acknowledges is true), but also what happened to my grandmother when my grandfather died. He had managed the household accounts, and it was some time before she was able to get things under control, not only due to the grief of losing a decades-long partner, but also because she had not known what was being done and why. She was fortunate to have trusted advice and attentive children to ensure she was not defrauded–but I have known many women who were not so fortunate, and I have heard about yet more than that. It’s an unfortunate bit of verisimilitude at work, but not less authentic for being unhappy.

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The fifteenth chapter of Shaman’s Crossing, “Séance,” opens as Nevare, Epiny, and Spink reach the older Burvelle estate, where each goes to prepare for dinner. Spink asks Nevare if he had been too forward with Epiny, and the two confer somewhat awkwardly about Nevare’s cousin and about Nevare’s own strange behaviors. Their talk soon turns to family estates, Spink laying out details of his home in Bittersprings; he notes that the land does not yield much agriculturally but that it produces stone in abundance. The perceived perils of such thoughts receive attention, and Nevare returns the conversation to the safer topic of Bittersprings’s history, upon which Spink readily expounds.

The conversation is interrupted by Epiny at the door, breathing through a whistle while waiting for a lull in the cadets’ talk to summon them to dinner. After a barbed exchange, Epiny goes on ahead of her cousin and his friend, leaving the two to confer about her oddity and Nevare to muse on his sisters as they follow. Sefert begins the meal, and Nevare tucks in, enjoying the food, which is described in some detail. Spink talks at some length with Sefert about the estate throughout the meal. Both join Sefert, Epiny, and Purissa for games of Towsers afterward, the play of which is glossed until Sefert, taking the excuse of seeing Purissa to bed, departs.

Nevare attempts to extricate himself from the game at that point, but Spink determines to remain with Epiny, so he himself remains at the game until after Sefert briefly returns to remind the three of the next morning’s services. When he retires from doing so, Epiny suggests the three conduct a séance, explaining the concept to Spink. Discussion ensues, not entirely pleasantly, and Nevare finds himself reluctantly engaged in one with his cousin and his friend, his own use of the keep fast charm common among the cavalla and borrowed from the Plainsfolk engaged against him.

As the three sit to the event, Nevare and Epiny encounter strange resistance to joining hands. A strange voice speaks from Nevare’s mouth, shocking all present, and Epiny breaks the ceremony. In its wake, the three confer about the event, purposing to seek further into the presence that has attached itself to Nevare. They soon all retire for the night, Nevare finding sleep gratefully.

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. While not the shortest chapter in the novel, it is one of the shorter ones, and I find myself wondering if it might not have done well conjoined to the preceding chapter; I do not know that the pacing is necessarily well served by the divison. I do not know that it is not, however, and I do know that, having been otherwise busy, I appreciate having some shorter work to treat, even if I remain as prolix as ever while treating it.

Also, for indexing purposes, the following: Bittersprings, Cavalla, Council of Lords, Daraleen Burvelle, Epiny Burvelle, Guide Porilet, Holy Writ, Hotorn Burvelle, Keep Fast Charm, Keft Burvelle, Kellon Spinrek Kester, Medium, Nevare Burvelle, Offeri, Old Square, Old Thares, Otter, Plainsfolk, Purissa Burvelle, Séance, Sebanese, Sebany, Sefert Burvelle, Selethe Burvelle, Sergeant Duril, Speck, Spinrek “Spink” Kester, Stone, Tobacco, Towsers, Widevale. As a shorter chapter, it might well be expected that there are fewer indexable items to find in it.

It is perhaps the brevity of the chapter that makes its iteration of something like second-wave feminist discourse stand out. As Nevare, Epiny, and Spink discuss the propriety of conducting a séance (360-61), Nevare, concerned most with adherence to convention and the rules* notes that the prospect of one “sounds unholy, and completely unfit for a girl to be interested in.” Epiny retorts with a comment about the Gernian queen’s** engagement with such practices and her comment that “much of what is judged ‘unfit for women to pursue’ are the very sciences and disciplines that lead to power,” and she finds some agreement from Spink, who adds “The complete texts of the Holy Writ are forbidden to them; they only study the writings given specifically for women. The arts and sciences of war are judged unfit…if those be the paths to power, then, yes, perhaps women are denied those paths when they are denied those disciplines.” The conversation continues, leading to the idea–which Nevare cannot answer–that it is only because men have women upon whom to rely that they can pursue those paths which they deny to women; Epiny presents as in opposition to the rightness of such an idea, to the idea that she is and must be less because she is a she. It is an agitation against institutional inequality based on perceptions of proper roles assigned to genders, and if it is something that Hobb has treated in her works before†, it is nonetheless something that bears continued consideration.

It is also perhaps due to the brevity of the chapter that a typographical error stands out: at one point (365), Spink is rendered as “Speck.” It would be easy enough to regard it as only a typographical error were it not clear that the strange voice speaking through Nevare–and, indeed, attempting to work magic through him–is the Tree Woman of the Dappled People who has claimed Nevare. More than a slip of the keys seems to be at work, although I do not think it a deliberate thing.‡

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*Of course, Nevare is not so concerned with adherence to the rules as all that, as evidenced by his selective adherence to the honor code at his school, as witness his refusal to report the fight between Trist and Spink over the former’s defacing of the latter’s textbook in “Bessom Gord,” among others. He seems to rely on rules as a means to protect himself and his perceptions more than as a matter of actual principle; to his credit, he does at several points in the novel contemplate the degree to which he is a coward for doing so.

**I note that, as with Selethe Burvelle before, the queen of Gernia has been repeatedly referenced by title but not by name. The same is not true of Gernia’s king, Troven, whose name appears before even that of Nevare’s mother, in “Crossing the Bridge.” It is, I think, another indication of the prevailing sexism at work in Gernia, something unfortunately true to the milieu’s antecedents. That does not make the milieu or the writing bad; it is not a bad thing to be confronted by the uncomfortable or the outright wrong in a work of fiction, especially when such is held up as something to be questioned or repudiated.

†See, for example, “Ephron Vestrit,” “The Liveship Ophelia,” “Immersions,” “Tidings,” “Dragon and Satrap,” “Vows,” and “Discoveries.” Related is the gender fluidity of the Fool in the Realm of the Elderlings corpus. It is also worth noting that scholarship on Hobb’s works has treated such matters, as witness Bokne, Borowska-Szerszun, and Flegel and Roth, among others. And I am reminded again that I need to update some of my bibliographic works…as time allows.

‡Insofar as “deliberate” matters with such things. Although it is curious that it slipped by so many as it did, given circumstances of textual production…a lot of eyes missed it, and while the old adage reminds us that “Even Homer nods,” the equally Classical Argus reminds us that too many eyes closing is a perilous thing. (And it reminds me of a bit of a joke, to boot.)

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The fourteenth chapter of Shaman’s Crossing, “Cousin Epiny,” starts with Nevare rehearsing events from the day following those of the previous chapter. Both he and Gord suffer from the previous evening’s exertions, and rumors about Tiber spread, to Nevare’s dismay. A letter from Sefert Burvelle inviting him to his home for the coming leave-time, and plans for leave are discussed among Nevare’s cohort. Nate and Kort are saddened by their letters, and Gord enheartened by one of his own, from his fiancée, Cilima. Nevare realizes Gord is a more complex person than he had thought as members of his cohort depart for their leave-time.

Nevare and Spink confer about their respective plans as Nevare’s uncle and the titular cousin Epiny arrive to take Nevare to their estate. The uncle confers graciously with Spink as Nevare regards Epiny, and she takes a sudden interest in Spink. Introductions are made, and Epiny manages to secure an invitation for the leave-time to Spink as well as her cousin. Thus maneuvered, Sefert calls on Colonel Stiet to make the appropriate arrangements, and Nevare assists Spink in packing. They encounter Caluder along the way, to Nevare’s dismay, but are on their way in good time and order.

Along the way, conversation proceeds among the five. Epiny asks about Spink’s family, having read in her uncle’s journals about his father’s exploits. Arriving at the estate, arrangements are made for the cadets, and Spink relates some of his strained family history. Epiny conducts the pair to a light, informal meal, then to a walk to the stables. Nevare checks on his horse, and the three discuss mounts before continuing their walk into the gardens. Epiny and Spink talk together at length as the weather begins to worsen, and Nevare finds himself confused by his friend’s enthusiasm for the walk. They are joined briefly by Purissa, whom Epiny distracts and sends off.

Nevare finds himself offended at Epiny’s easy familiarity with Spink and attempts to intercede. As he does, he is seized by a sudden strangeness, rendering everything around him unfamiliar, to Epiny’s surprise and Spink’s shock. The latter removes Nevare’s hand from where it had been Epiny’s arm tightly, and Nevare reacts as if suddenly released from restraint. Epiny presses questions upon Nevare briefly before the worsening weather breaks above them and the flee for the home.

To address the chapter-length issue: the present chapter, in the edition of the novel I’m rereading, runs 14 pages in length, approximately 2.43% of the novel. It is the shortest chapter yet to occur in the novel, and a look back at the front matter indicates that it is the shortest in the novel, overall. So much makes it stand out, especially as contrasted with the previous chapter; juxtaposition always highlights, and extremes attract attention. So does the almost clichéd dramatic ending of the chapter; the lightning and sudden downpour smack of deus ex machina, about which I’ve commented before.

Also, for indexing purposes, the following: Bessom Jamis, Book of Punishment, Cadet Lieutenant Tiber, Carneston House, Caulder Stiet, Celeste, Cilima, Colonel Stiet, Dr. Amicas, Dutiful Wife, Epiny Burvelle, Garlic, Gord, Holy Writ, Keft Burvelle, Kellon Spinrek Kester, King’s Cavalla Academy, Kort Braxan, Lake Foror, Lallie, Lavender, Natred Verlaney, Nevare Burvelle, Old Thares, Otter, Plainsfolk, Purissa Burvelle, Sefert Burvelle, Sirlofty, Spinrek “Spink” Kester, Towsers, Trist Wissom. Being brief, there is only so much the chapter can bring forward.

I note with some interest the details about the religion in Gernia provided. It is not the first time details thereabouts have been offered; amont other examples, “Harbinger,” early in the novel, offers a fair bit, as does “Dewara,” and the previous chapter makes its own explication of a priestly title repeated in the present. More information about the contents of the Gernian holy text–namely the component books that comprise it–is welcome and seems to present the Gernian religion as more of a means of social control than might otherwise be thought. Again, I’ve not done as much reading on the topic as I might, nor yet have I been as regular an attendee of Sunday school as some might want, so I cannot be certain of it, but I have to wonder if there is not something of religious movements at work in the United States in the ninteenth century (and other times, although that may be more affective of a reading than is good for me) as an antecedent from which Hobb borrows for her ideas in the present chapter. Perhaps in that someday when I have more scholarly time, I might see about doing such readings.

I note also the mention of Towsers, a card game, in the chapter. As with comments about high- and lowbrow literature and songs made in my remarks on previous chapters, the presence of the game lends a bit of verisimilitude (which, as I’ve often noted, Hobb is on record as valuing); in the Soldier Son novels, as well as in their readers’ world, we are more than just our jobs, given to diversion and distraction in idle moments that we could well (and, as many would argue, should well) spend in some form of more concrete self-improvement. There have been other such things in Hobb’s writing, to be sure; the stone-game from the Six Duchies comes to mind as one example (and I am reminded that I ought to have indexed more thoroughly earlier on in my rereading). Too, even aside from the presence of the game in the milieu (at more risk of overly affective reading), the comment that Sefert had likely been besieged by rounds of the game (340) strikes me as particularly authentic; being a father and having been…obliged to engage in certain of my daughter’s enthusiasms, I have some understanding of the position. It’s a nice little humanizing touch. It’s also a grounded, possibly emblematic one. The term does have historical associations with cards, as Oxford reports; it also, per Merriam-Webster, speaks to rowdiness and tumult. Whether the latter holds true in the novel, I’ll have to remind myself as I continue rereading the novel.

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There’s some physical abuse in the present chapter.

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The thirteenth chapter of Shaman’s Crossing, “Bessom Gord,” opens on Nevare’s third month of study and the continued adjustments to prevailing patterns of study and life. Political concerns make themselves felt at the Academy, increasing tensions between older and newer noble families even as it offers the cadets unexpected leave-time. Plans for the spending of the same are noted and much in mind as classes proceed.

As the legislative meeting approaches that had occasioned the tensions, Nevare and his cohort are made to stand aside and wait for another group of cadets to arrive at the Academy mess. It is tersely explained that the other group, from Chesterton House, are particularly noble-blooded, Corporal Dent rebuking the cadets in his charge for presuming to equal footing with them. The harangue continues at the mess table, Dent upbraiding putatively upstart youths and focusing on Gord, whose status as a soldier son is called into question. The cadet answers as he can, and Dent finds himself very much the center of his cadets’ ire.

Despite their unity against Dent, tensions remain in place among Nevare’s cohort. Spink and Trist become increasingly antagonistic, and Nevare considers his doubts of Gord, who continues to endure insult to Spink’s frustration. Those tensions culminate in a brief altercation between Trist and Spink in which the latter subdues the former, to the surprise of all assembled and despite attempts to defuse the situation. Matters are put to rights before Dent can arrive and administer punishment, however, and Gord’s absence is suddenly noted.

Nevare works through implications of Gord’s absence as Trist and Spink trade barbs. He also considers the stone Dewara had left in him and the lessons Sergeant Duril had taught him until his reverie is broken by the intrusion of Caulder into the dormitory. He conveys a summons to Nevare and Spink, bidding them come to the infimary to retrieve Gord and occasioning a small outburst from Nevare. Arriving at the infirmary, they confer with campus physician, Dr. Amicas, who reports that Gord appears to have been beaten in what seems a string of assaults on the sons of newly appointed nobles. No reports that he can act on reach him, however, and Gord’s refusal to offer such leaves him frustrated as he discharges the cadet into his comrades’ care.

Returning to their dormitory with Nevare and Spink, Gord offers a cursory summary of events and his reasoning for having left the dorm in the first place. He also upbraids Spink for engaging Trist at his own level, laying out his philosophy regarding people and their cruelties. Nevare reconisders Gord and approaches to leadership, but his reverie is broken again by the appearance of Caulder, trumpeting the assault of another student. Nevare has Spink convey Gord back to the dormitory and moves to investigate, finding Tiber beaten and reeking. Nevare attempts to render aid; Jaris and Ordo join, and Nevare grows wary. Before more can happen, Amicas arrives, taking Tiber into his care and dismissing Nevare back to his dormitory.

Arriving at Carneston, Nevare reports in to Sergeant Rufet, who lets slip an opinion he chokes back suddently before sending Nevare to his rooms. In the dark, he and Spink confer about events, and Nevare slips into a dream of the tree woman. She quizzes Nevare about his progress and is answered with confusion. She then notes moving to act, warning Nevare not to resist the coming call of magic. He wakes in the dark and looks forward to a poor day to come.

To address the chapter-length issue: the present chapter, in the edition of the novel I’m rereading, runs 39 pages in length, approximately 6.76% of the novel. It is the longest yet; if, as has been motioned toward previously, the amount of text bespeaks importance, then the present chapter would seem to be the most important yet in the novel, and by a significant margin. Admittedly, it remains the case that “if” does a lot of work in that assertion, but there are several things going on–almost more than seem as should be yoked together; I have to wonder if the interlude with Tiber wouldn’t’ve worked better in a later chapter than in the present one, for example. It’s somehow rushed, to my reading, although I will acknowledge that that might well be a matter of my own taste rather than one that is an issue of craft.

Also, for indexing purposes, the following: Bejawi, Bessom, Cadet Lieutenant Tiber, Caleb, Carneston House, Carneston House Riders, Carsina Grenalter, Caulder Stiet, Chesterton House, Colonel Stiet, Corporal Dent, Council of Lords, Dewara, Dr. Amicas, Garin, Gord, Herdo, An Introduction to the Houses of King’s Cavalla Academy, Jaris, Keft Burvelle, King Corag, King’s Cavalla Academy, Kort Braxan, Lieutenant Geeverman, Natred Verlaney, Nevare Burvelle, Old Thares, Ordo, Oron, Plainsfolk, Rory, “Selecting Strategy in Uneven Terrain,” Sergeant Duril, Sergeant Rufet, Sharpton Hall, Skeltzin Hall, Spinrek “Spink” Kester, Stone, Tobacco, Tree Woman, Trist Wissom, Varnian, Writ, Yaril Burvelle. Despite the length of the chapter, more of it seems to be more narrowly focused than a number of previous portions of the novel.

A note prompted by the indexing items: I note citations by cadets of seemingly standard texts, the Introduction to the Houses of King’s Cavalla Academy and “Selecting Strategy in Uneven Terrain.” I’ve commented before in rereading the present novel (here and here, as well as in the immediately previous chapter) on the importance of writing within the milieu. As previously, it makes sense that an author, earning a living from writing, would hold to the idea that writing is important and would present such an idea in her work. The more often it appears, after all, the more likley it is to be taken up and believed, and engendering such belief works to an author’s advantage; it’s not only lies that seem more true the more often repeated, after all, and there are truths to be found in fiction. And there is Hobb’s push for verisimilitude to consider, as well. Standardized curricula, with presumably standardized sets of texts, are nothing new, and the West Point after which I contend the Cavalla Academy is modeled used to have a single course of study; it stands to reason that cadets would make reference to works with which they could well consider their comrades to be familiar, and that they do so, that they act in a way that corresponds to readerly experience, does a little bit more to make Gernia an accessible milieu for the reader.

Another note, although not prompted by the indexing items: the thirteenth chapter might well be considered unlucky. Given what happens to several characters in the chapter, I’m not sure “unlucky” is an appropriate descriptor, although “unfortunate” does seem to apply; neither Gord nor Tiber seem to be facing Sajak or Seacrest. How deliberate a thing this is is arguable, of course; authorial intent is chimerical at best, and I’m in good company in having not seldom stated that intention matters less than effect.

An additional note: Gord’s explication of his approach to life, his assertion that the cruel should be made to change more than those upon whom they perpetuate cruelty and that his refusal to engage with his bullies on their own terms serves his purposes and his own ethos, stands out for me. There is nuance in his stated perspective; he does acknowledge that, at root, any military organization is inherently concerned with the application of force and the enactment of violence, even as he argues that he and his comrades ought well to be something more than blunt instruments to enable to enactment of brutality. The discussion touches on deeper ethical issues of the purpose of a military at all, something that has been and remains a fraught issue, and not only in the United States. Violence would seem at some level to be necessarily available; there are always situations that will not admit of reasoned debate, always some things in the world that will not be persuaded by informed discourse. But making it the sole or even primary determiner of right…there is a reason ad baculum has been recognized as folly for a long, long time, and Gord is right to point out the error of such thinking. That Nevare seems to consider it closely should probably not be taken as a comment on the author’s perspectives on the matter; again, authorial intent is not something to pursue much if at all, and the idea that any character, even a narrating protagonist, is necessarily the same as the author is…not one to entertain.* But whether or not Hobb adopts any particular position, the position Gord presents and Nevare considers is certainly one worth considering.

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*I’ve discussed this kind of thing before, here and elsewhere.

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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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