Oh, I would like to write a book At which someone would take a look And read the words I put inside; Though they’d be covered, I’d not hide The way I feel about this place, The things that I must daily face To find my way and make my name. Oh, I’d not mind if I found fame; I’d be okay to be liked well The more so did it help to sell Another book that I might write And release for the delight Of those who liked the first I wrote. But if I will on that tide float, I first must flood with words the page; The script must come before the stage.
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After a message heralding rewards for information about Alise or Sedric and comments from Reyall to Detozi about new security measures on bird-borne messages, “Opening Negotiations” begins with Hest and his current companion, Redding, together in Cassarick, Hest musing aspersively on the available lodgings. Hest reflects on the businesses that bring him to the remote Rain Wild city and upon his own role in those dealings. He chafes at his traveling companion and rehearses the news that he has been able to glean thus far before dismissing Redding and settling in to wait for an expected meeting. As Redding pries, Hest distracts him with selected truths about his intentions and business entanglements, and he purposes to send him onward in his own place.
Something of the setting, maybe? Photo by Joshua Woroniecki on Pexels.com
Aboard the Tarman, Leftrin sights a dragon, informing him that he approaches Kelsingra. That the dragons have begun to fly pleases him, and as Reyn agitates for haste, Leftrin calms him. He is put ill at ease by signs of pursuit, however, and considers both the implications of that pursuit and the signs of dragons’ presence.
Also aboard the Tarman, Reyn and Malta confer about their son, whose progress and development are described. Reyn urges Malta to care for herself, and they talk together about the area of Kelsingra. Tillamon, emerging quietly, echoes Reyn’s suggestions to her sister-in-law and offers to watch Phron while his parents refresh themselves. The couple note Tillamon’s happiness, and she notes that it comes from her budding relationship with Hennesey, and Malta calms Reyn’s reaction to the same.
As I reread the present chapter this time around, it occurs to me that the novel is still in its expositional phase, presenting materials to help orient readers who join the Elderlings corpus at this point rather than at any previous point in it. While it is the case that such entry does not make for an ideal reading experience, it is also the case that such entries continue to happen. In my own professional life, I am asked to do write-ups of books in series when I’ve not read the previous volumes (and I remain available to do such work for you; see below). It’s sometimes a challenge to do so, of course; series are written with an eye toward readers being broadly familiar with what has happened in earlier-set volumes. But even aside from professional concerns such as mine, with clients asking for book 2 of 3 or 3 of 5, sometimes readers stumble into series later in them, finding a later volume in a second-hand bookstore and having to back-fill. It’s easier now, perhaps, than in my youth, but it still happens, and it’s still to a novel’s credit that it works to ease such readers into their narratives.
I have to note, too, the classist commentary in the final section of the chapter. Being an older brother, I can sympathize to some degree with Reyn’s protectiveness. As I write this, my brother is 35 (I’m 40), and I still feel the call to step in on his behalf. The thing is, I don’t answer it anymore; he’s a grown man, and I’ve long known it. Reyn’s not in a position not to know his sister’s an adult and capable–and he’s got more than enough to worry about with Phron. Too, Malta has things right; the focus of Tillamon’s affection is gainfully employed in a trade not likely to see decline in his lifetime, and there are far worse things than to take up with someone who works a physical job for a living.
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The fortunate day has come again When many take thought for such luck as they have And worry more than most days at how much of it they lack
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow… Photo by Drew Rae on Pexels.com
What must it be like to have such luxury To be able to wonder only on certain days Whether fortune will find in favor And not to expect each day That the turning wheel will roll over Knowing that for it to move forward it must Throw some down Seeing that there is always a set that Sticks to the wheel-well Building up a curtain that will In time Make all advancement cease?
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Following a missive with a bitter complaint from Kim in Cassarick regarding investigations from the Keepers of the Birds, “Hunters and Prey” begins with Sintara exiting the river outside Kelsingra to find Mercor awaiting her. The two dragons converse briefly before interrupted by another dragon, Baliper, and Alise as she attends to him, though she is emphatically not his keeper. Sintara considers the effects proximity to humans has had upon her with some disgust, and upset breaks out among the dragons briefly. Mercor quells it and asserts that he will mate Sintara in time, and Sintara is affected by his advances, though she does not accede to them, but flies away.
Elsewhere, Tats calls on Thymara where she, Sylve, and Jerd lodge. The lodgings are described, as are the guests who have called on the young women, and more of Rapskal’s advances towards Thymara are noted. Tats and Thymara discuss hunting assignments that Carson has made, and they head out to hunt, other keepers’ duties and the difficulties of the same noted. They talk briefly of their dragons and the mechanics of the hunt, and, after a time, they talk about their friendship and its changes. The talk does not go well, but it is interrupted by game crashing through the trees, pursued by wolves. Tats moves to investigate, Thymara trailing, and they watch as the wolves make use of terrain to complete their kills. Sintara and Fente then descend upon the wolves themselves. In the wake of the carnage, though, Tats has a revelation of a way to help the dragons yet earthbound achieve flight, and they return.
Still further away, Selden is examined and found wanting, given his described status. His prospective seller continues to praise his dragon-like form, however, even as Selden speaks in his own defense and turns such power as he possesses on his prospective buyer, Chancellor Ellik, and he soon has a new enslaver.
The appearance of wolves in the area of Kelsingra is, to my eye, an obvious nod towards the Farseer and Tawny Man novels, in which one wolf, in particular, looms large, indeed. That the wolves make use of a break in an Elderling road, well, it reminded me powerfully of this, and I continue to appreciate the work done to keep things together as parts of a consistent whole.
As I reread the chapter, too, I once again find myself reading with affect and sympathizing with the difficulty in feeling and expressing the same on the parts of Thymara and Tats. Growing up where and when I did, and among whom I did, I did not experience the degree of repression Thymara attests; although I made an ass of myself on many occasions and to a substantial collective audience, I was largely welcome from birth, and the expectation that I would wed and have at least one child was simply part of things. (I am glad to have wedded and to have my daughter, very much so on both counts.) For Thymara, though, the expectation, as has been noted in the novels (such as here), was that she would die, and even did she not, she would not wed or bear children–and that any such children would, themselves, die, given the Rain Wilds’ effect on people. Even aside from what Thymara has witnessed and been told, she has had ample reason to avoid intimacy, and given the entanglements cropping up around her assignation with Rapskal under the mutual influence of Elderling magic, I can understand her reluctance to engage any further.
As far as Selden goes…slavery of any sort is a horror, and the kind of chattel slavery for which Chalced is known in the milieu is worse. The extension of it into which Selden is being increasingly drawn is worse yet, the formal irony clear from the name of his new enslaver. For Ellik has, of course, already fed some of Selden to the Duke…and I wonder, now, if there is not some parallel to Rawbread and the Forgings at work, though I know that will take other eyes than I currently have to seek out fully.
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I‘ve commented before on the events commemorated today and upon the problems attendant upon that commemoration. I do note hearing less about the matter this time around than previously, which I am not sure is a good thing–or even consistent with other issues. There are a lot of failures, setback, and evils that get repeated and propped up, and I am in favor of pointing out the problems in things. (Yes, I am great fun at parties; why do you ask?) At the same time, I am not in favor of praising those who are not praiseworthy, and I am not unmindful that the political circumstances that lead to certain acts of praise beginning are no longer in force. (Others very much are, to the collective detriment of the world and my small part of it.) So there is and remains some tension in my mind and thought, and I remain uncertain how to resolve it.
Honestly, it’s better than it might be. Photo by Engin Akyurt on Pexels.com
So much said, I recognize the position I occupy in that regard as one privileged. I am not burdened by the outcomes of the events in question, except that I choose to be; I could follow the example set by a great many, no few of which remain on live, and simply not give a damn about such things as the perniciously persistent inequities and erasures that are at work in the world. I could simply let things be, not digging deeper into “old shit” that “doesn’t matter,” even if it is the case that my tax dollars are paying for the maintenance of commemorations to what amounts to the beginnings of genocide. (Taking time off costs money, too, you know.) I could shut my eyes to the plight of others plain to see, seal my ears against the mourning plain to hear–and there are even justifications I might give for doing so. There are enough other problems in the world, after all, and I can actually do something about some of them, now and again; I would not be wrong to focus my attention on those problems and work to address them, rather than to give even so much attention as this to something that lies almost wholly outside my abilities.
But that “almost wholly” nags at me, one of many such things to do so.
I readily admit that there is not much I can do in this world. I am trained in the humanities in a world that does not value them and barely pretends to do so, and I labor to the extent that I am able (I am looking for work, by the way, but people have to be willing to hire for me to find it) under a load of debt that I took while believing–because I had been told as much, repeatedly across many years, by people I was supposed to be able to trust to know what they were about–that my doing so would lead to the kind of job that would allow me to repay that debt and the concomitant interest and to have a comfortable life in which I could understand myself to be doing some good for some people. Each inhibits what I can actually do. But if all I can do is to keep in mind the wrongs done in the world of which I am aware, then I am obliged to do it by my ethics and morals. (Yes, I do have them.) Thus something like this, in which I note what I see is and how I see it, though I do not know how I can make things better.
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I‘ve noted before that I’ve got a lot more time open to work on writing, and I’m pleased to note that there have been some who’ve taken advantage of that openness. For example, I recently carried out a commission for a seven-part poem to be used as lyrics for a forthcoming oratorio, and I have continued to write teaching guides for emerging best-sellers and classics-to-be.
So much said, I know there is more work to do. I know that people need to have things written, things like
Poetry, whether as pieces to present, the contents of greeting cards, song lyrics, expressions of love, or other things yet;
Study guides, helping students understand better the things they encounter;
Executive summaries, distilling texts down to their basic elements for faster, fuller understanding by busy people;
Ad copy, so that what needs selling gets sold;
Instruction sets, so that what needs doing gets done right; and
Other writing done to order.
I know, too, that people need new eyes on their work, helping them to see what they’d otherwise miss. That way, what they write shows them off at their best, getting them the deal or the promotion or the publication they want!
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Go ahead I read you five-by-five What’s your twenty, good buddy? Roger that Heard there’s action down that way Some kind of ten-fifteen, the badges are saying See if you can steer clear Say again Say again Copy
Break, break, break They’re calling out the numbers, now Ten-ten Ten-thirty-two Ten-thirty-three Ten-thirty-four Come back Come back Come back Wilco Wilco Over and out
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Following the text of a public notice from the Bird Keepers’ Guild, “Flight” begins with Heeby and Sintara circling over Kelsingra and its surroundings, along with Fente, for whom Tats is keeper. Tats confers with the dragon, who departs, and he surveys the status of the other keepers and their dragons as the latter work to gain the skies. Mercor’s efforts in that line receive attention, and Tats finds himself responding to Alise’s questions, rehearsing the confrontation that had occurred between her and Rapskal over rights to Kelsingra. The two confer about how to address the dragons as they grow stronger and more capable, and they watch as one dragon, Ranculos, falls into the river and nearly drowns. Ranculos achieves Kelsingra, however, and discussion between Tats and Alise resumes, with her encouraging him to join his comrades.
This comes up again and again… Photo by Uriel Mont on Pexels.com
As Tats heads off, Alise considers herself and her situation as the only human among the keepers-becoming-Elderlings. Outcomes available to her are rehearsed, and she makes efforts to integrate into the society just outside Kelsingra.
The equanimity with which the dragons in the present chapter face the possible death of one of their own is of some interest. Hobb has been at pains at times to present the non-humanity of the dragons in ways that echo or highlight some observable human tendencies; Beloved in the Tawny Man novels remarks to the effect that the dragons hold up a collective mirror to humanity. Alise echoes some of that sentiment in the present chapter, pointing out to Tats that the work of the dragons through the Elderlings of old is “what humans have done for generations” and positing that “Maybe humans will lose some of their pettiness if they have dragons to contend with” (19). Admittedly, there is always peril in assigning to authors beliefs voiced by their characters; it is too much to assume, for instance, that a writer believes the same thing their villains do. That said, it is often the case that protagonists give voice to things their authors would see true in the world, and more than one of Hobb’s focal characters seems to share particular opinions regarding Homo sapien hubris. Whether the opinion can be ascribed to the author remains uncertain, but given that multiple characters voice it with whom readers are encouraged to sympathize, it seems clear the opinion is not one to which the author likely objects–at least at the time of composition.
Things do change across years, after all.
The present chapter is another short one, to be sure. I expect there will be more to say about others as the text continues. I look forward to finding some of it out.
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For those published and left unread For those revised and never published For those drafted unrevised For those not drafted, only thought For those but dreamed and never thought I mourn
Sure. Why not? Photo by Kindel Media on Pexels.com
The paeans hinted at but never sung The words spoken out aloud and unrecalled The lines jotted out on paper thrown away The letters sent and soon discarded The books gathering dust until they decay Sadnesses all
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After Reyall replies with reservation to Erek’s offer, “Ending a Life” opens with Alise waking in discomfort and surveying the total of her scholarship, “all in one stack.” She muses bitterly on her situation and the assertion by Rapskal that nothing of Elderling make ought to be in the hands of a non-Elderling, but soon rebukes herself for her angsty melancholy and is joined in that rebuke by the touch of Sintara’s mind on her own. Sintara signals some approval of Alise’s response, and Alise heads out to forage and survey her surroundings. While out, she encounters a big cat, which she frightens off. That done, she purposes to return to the keepers’ encampment with a warning about the predator, thinking she has earned a cup of tea as part of her own life.
Here, kitty, kitty, kitty… Image is Cburnett’s from the Wikimedia Commons, here, under a CC BY-SA 3.0 license, and is used for commentary with no assertion of endorsement
It is a brief chapter, the present one, and structurally simpler than many in the series, consisting of a single section focusing on a short time in one character’s life–a couple of hours, at most. In that length and simplicity, it serves to ease the reader into reading; even though the novel is but one in a series, and the last rather than the first, it is a new novel, thus a new reading experience, and so an easing-in rather than a dropping-in makes sense. (This is not to say that a novel ought not to start amid action and suddenly; many novels do so, and they do so well. But it is jarring to start such a novel, and jarring is not always the most desirable thing to do to a reader.)
The focus on Alise also calls attention to her ongoing character development. She has clearly had an existence of her own while the narrative has focused on other characters, rather than remaining a static figure against which the others can be measured. To my eye, it is another iteration of the kind of verisimilitude for which Hobb avowedly strives and which she in large measure delivers. (There are exceptions, of course, but, as the adage has it, “Even Homer nods.”) I have certainly had the experience in my life of not seeing someone for a time and being surprised at the ways in which they have changed; I do not think I am alone in it. Accordingly, it rings true for me that Alise has changed a bit since she last occupied Hobb’s pages, and I like even my fantasies to ring true.
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Elliott RWI 