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

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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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