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

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Following a relayed letter to Reyn and Malta from Wintrow, in which the unsuccessful search for Selden is reported, “Tintaglia’s Touch” opens with Malta unsuccessfully pleading with Mercor for aid for Phron. Mercor notes that kinship with Tintaglia would be required for him to be able to assist the boy, and he is not of her kin. Alise intercedes to pursue more information from Mercor, which her flattery is able to secure from the dragon. Some of the relationship between dragons and Elderlings is explicated, and some of Malta’s own background is related. Mercor reiterates a call for Silver, citing its necessity for the Elderling magic in Kelsingra to work, and Malta and Reyn retire to be with their son as his death approaches.

Elsewhere, Hest is brusquely woken by his Chalcedean assailant. The ship on which they both travel has spotted a sleeping blue dragon, and Hest is asked for how to kill it. He responds only haltingly and unhelpfully, and his captors plot how they will approach and attack the dragon. Hest is returned to confinement, and he considers his situation and possibilities.

Tintaglia wakes to find herself assailed. She defends herself with difficulty, her injuries and fatigue telling on her, and she retreats in anger, vowing vengeance upon the lot and calling for help from Kelsingra in little hope.

The present chapter notes the name of Hest’s long-time assailant, Lord Dargen; if memory serves, it is the first place to do so. I’ve remarked before, most recently here, on Hobb’s tendency to employ emblematic names; accordingly, I took a look at meanings associated with Dargen. Among others, it’s a town in Germany near its border with Poland and the Baltic. It’s also a reported surname, linked by various sources to heritages in the British Isles, and it shows up to a casual internet search as a treatment for anemia.

None of those seem particularly apt, though the same casual internet search suggests “d’argent” and “dragon” as likely “intended” searches (the “Did you mean X?” sort of thing that search engines return). The former seems an odd fit, although trade in silver certainly happens in the Elderlings milieu. The association with dragons is more appropriate, I think; certainly, Dargen’s conduct bespeaks the draconian (I do not ask for pardon for the pun) nature of his homeland and the evil traditionally associated with dragons in the dominant threads of English-language literature. If there is an emblem at work here, and there well may be, it is likely in that association; Dargen is like a dragon, although he is certainly not one.

I note something of a pattern of the futility of threat in the chapter, as well. Several characters find themselves desiring action against others and unable to accomplish it, and it seems spread across the peoples present–human, Elderling, and dragon. What is to be made of it, if anything, escapes me at the moment; it may well be a throwaway thing, although I tend to resist such an interpretation. Each word on each page is placed deliberately and agreed upon by author, editor, and publisher (among others), after all, so it’s more likely to be something, even a small thing, than nothing. Else, why spend the paper and ink?

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

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Following an extended report from Reyall to Detozi about the changing situation surrounding the bird-keepers and tightening security measures, “Passing Ships” begins with Hest considering his changed and deteriorated situation, put to hard use by his assailant. The assailant’s methods convince Hest that he has been only a dilettante, and he finds himself placed unhelpfully amid an ongoing Chalcedean conspiracy that takes him and a number of others upriver aboard one of the new “impervious” ships, but not the one pursuing the Tarman towards Kelsingra. Hest’s complicity is discovered, and other prisoners begin to rise against him, and he finds himself conscripted into servitude by the Chalcedeans aboard ship, realizing he is alone and abandoned.

As the voyage upstream continues, Hest continues to ruminate on his situation, his thoughts souring on Sedric. His reverie is broken by the approach of the ship that had pursued the Tarman, asking for aid in the wake of having been beset by the dragons outside Kelsingra. Hest is sent belowdecks to ponder what has befallen.

Elsewhere, Tintaglia flies again, her path away from Trehaug traced. She muses angrily on Chalced as she flies, though she is buoyed up by the realization that the dragons have reached Kelsingra. Amid her pain, she feeds, and she lapses unto an uneasy sleep.

Reading the chapter this time, I find myself of mixed feeling toward Hest. He remains largely unsympathetic, musing on what he had wrongly thought himself to be and raging at Sedric and Alise for what are, ultimately, his own actions. At the same time, as he is confronted with substantial physical violence, Hest’s compliance with the demands of his Chalcedean assailant is eminently understandable. Even so, though, he works toward the peril of his fellow Traders, something for which he is rightly rebuked…it’s hard to say that he didn’t have much of most of what happens to him coming, but it’s also hard to say that anyone, fictional or otherwise, deserves the kind of treatment he receives–and which all too many people in all too many parts of the world have endured and still endure, as must be recognized.

The problem I continue to have is with the ways in which Hest reinforces long-standing stereotypes about homosexual men. I can see an argument made that his mistreatment and the ongoing disfavorable presentation (for example, here) serve to comment upon the problems of the stereotype, that the way Hest is treated serves as a rebuke of the tropes he embodies, although I would note that Sedric is similarly presented early on (reference here, for example), and he finds at-least partial redemption. Such might mean that Hest serves as a counter-example to Sedric, and it is the case that Sedric is not alone among the homosexual men in the series in finding narrative valuation. So perhaps the message is that adherence to the tropes of dandyism is the problem, although that message presents its own difficulties, and I am not sufficiently skilled anymore to untangle them, if ever I was.

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

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A fairly lengthy message from Hest’s mother, Sealia, to him prefaces “City of Elderlings.” The chapter opens with Alise being disturbed from her investigations and recalling earlier interruptions with some annoyance. Alise recognizes her present disturber as Sylvie, who reports the return of the Tarman. Alise is briefed on recent events, and she takes some care with her appearance before deciding it does not matter. Alise also muses over changes among the keepers and dragons in the wake of the relocation to Kelsingra proper and the dragons’ ability to fly. Broader social changes and acceptance are also attested, and Alise finds herself happily racing to the approaching liveship.

Aboard the Tarman, Leftrin considers the dragons’ interest in his pursuit and regards the struggles his ship faces in coming in to the new dockfront, which is described. The liveship comes into the docks, greeted by keepers, anchored, and tied up. Leftrin gives orders for the ship’s unloading, and he confers with the vessel as those orders are carried out. The ship notes that Phron remains in peril, something that unsettles Leftrin, but he lets it be.

Alise assists Malta in finding quarters for herself and her family and in getting them settled in. The Elderling city swiftly begins to have an effect on Phron, upsetting Malta, and the women confer about changes and developments. Malta continues to settle in, and Alise explains both what is known about the city and her frustrations with how the keepers themselves are despoiling it. Malta also becomes aware of the presence of others’ memories around her, and Alise advises Malta that she and Reyn are already figures of veneration in Kelsingra.

Alise leaves Malta to rest, considering Phron as she goes, and she manages to extricate Reyn from where the keepers ply him with questions. She considers changes to herself as she heads towards the docks, observing the work going on there, and her mind turns for a time to the logistics of refounding the city. But she is greeted warmly by Leftrin when she reaches the Tarman, and Leftrin dismisses his crew so that he and Alise can confer and reconnect.

The present chapter does, I note with some pleasure, speak directly to the promise of refounding for those who had previously been excluded or marginalized. The scandal Alise reflects on that would attend in Bingtown upon same-sex romances that are commonplace in and around Kelsingra and the easy acceptance if not outright privileging of those “marked” by the Rain Wilds attract my eye, and I cannot help but think that there is something of a utopian motion going on with it. Not fully, of course; it’s not in line with Hobb’s usual style for there to be no problems, and Rapskal’s burgeoning militancy is noted in the present chapter, as well. But it is still present, I think, and it is a fairly conventional move to make in a fantasy series.

The question of power is one that the present chapter raises, as well. It is noted in the chapter that Malta and Reyn are regarded as being leaders among the Elderlings–which is sensible, since for some years, they and the absent Selden were the only acknowledged to be of that people. That they come from previously prominent and already-wealthy families is something of a complicating factor; while it is made clear from the Liveship Traders novels that they did much to improve upon themselves and seize the opportunities available to them, it is also clear that many of those opportunities only presented themselves because Reyn and Malta started out in good positions. It becomes something of an open question, then, how much change they would be willing to permit, were they installed as rulers; even if they are “merely” firsts among equals, their influence could be considerable, and they would likely incline to replicating the structures that have empowered them. It has been demonstrated, after all, that the Elderlings are humans and all too human; it would not be out of line with such depictions.

I am aware that I am once again writing about a work of fiction and its characters as if it is real life and they are real people. I am aware, once again, of the strangeness of doing so, especially given all that is happening in the real world at this and at any given time. But I am also aware that stories are told and continue to be told, whatever else is happening in the world wherein they are told. And I am aware that looking at stories offers some possible insight into the world. What is not may yet in some ways be, and there is some hope to be found in that.

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

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After a letter from Keffria Vestrit to Jani Khuprus in which the former notes apprehensions about her younger children and reports news from Wintrow, “City Dwellers”,” opens with Thymara musing on the relocation into Kelsingra proper from the settlements across the river from it. Details of the relocation are provided, and findings in the city that are put to use are described. Thymara notes changes in Sintara since the latter gained flight, and the two confer about their association and the changes still ongoing in Thymara. Talk turns to Silver, about which Sintara muses longingly, noting its flows and power and raging at Thymara that she cannot recall them.

Thymara recalls conversations with Alise that might be informative, and her thoughts turn to considerations of reestablishing settlement in Kelsingra itself. Tasks assigned and difficulties with other keepers, notably Tats and Rapskal, receive attention, as do factional divisions growing among them. Thymara adds what she is able to recall from the embedded memories in the city to their store of knowledge, which helps with planning for the future, and she muses on the implications of the memories she has gained. She ends up discussing as much with Tats, who insists in bringing Alise into the discussion, and they confer about how to proceed as they watch the work to restore the city go on. But their continued discussion is interrupted by dragons beginning to fight and Carson’s summons to address the same.

Elsewhere, Chassim confronts Selden, the latter of whom regards the former with questions about her hostility. Selden assesses his situation and asks Chassim for more details about it, learning of her parentage and the Duke of Chalced’s intentions towards him. Chassim’s own situation is explicated in some detail, and prospects for the both of them are poor, though they begin to reach an accord together.

The character of Chassim Kent, daughter of the Duke of Chalced, Andronicus Kent, calls for attention, despite how little she appears in the chapter. Her description echoes that of hijabi, and, with that description in place alongside long-standing descriptions of Chalced, I find myself put in mind of markedly unhelpful stereotypes at play in prevailing US cultural discourses antecedent to and contemporary with the publication and presumed composition of the text. I am not an expert on anti-Muslim prejudice, but it does seem to me that the linking of Muslim-coded things to an overtly, almost comically evil nation-state does smack of that kind of bias…and I am disappointed to see it. While there does need to be conflict in such a novel as Blood of Dragons–fantasy literature almost demands that there be some sort of international shenanigans–and much genre fiction benefits from clear antagonists, neither needs to reinforce real-world hatreds that were more than problematic at the time of publication and which have only gotten worse in light of recent execrable events at play. It’s a point against the novel, and a substantial one.

Once again, between the present chapter and some other reading I’ve been doing (you don’t think the novel is the only thing I’m reading, do you?), I come to the anticipated criticisms that “It’s just a novel,” that “It’s just a story,” that “It’s just make-believe,” and that “If you don’t like it, stop reading.” As to the first three, I have often in similar cases noted that the promulgation of material influences prevailing understandings of the world and therefore the actions taken in the world. That is, what gets put out into the world sets people up to think and believe those things and to act on them. The stories we take in help to shape who we are, just as the stories we tell show much of who we are; they matter for those reasons if for no others. (I do think there are others, clearly.) And as to the last of the four–I didn’t say I don’t like the novel as a whole. But liking a thing does not, or should not, mean blindness to its deficiencies.

I have fallen in some ways from my prime, partly because of increasing age, partly because of increasing distance from the kind of life of the mind for which I had trained, the loss of which I yet mourn. But I am not so fallen as to be incapable of seeing blemishes upon what I appreciate and still appreciating it. I did my dissertation on Malory; there is a lot in his work (and more in his life, so far as we know it) with which to find fault. I read Chaucer eagerly; the same is true for him as for Malory. I read Shakespeare, Milton, Asimov, Tolkien (yes, I’m a nerd); the same is true for each of them, as well. I have no doubt I could find similar issues in the other readings I do (again, there are many such). That I do does not mean I endorse all or even any of what they say, and it is perhaps a position of privilege that allows me to do such reading and not be harmed by it…clearly, I have more thinking to do on the matter.

I doubt I am the only one.

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