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The twentieth chapter of Shaman’s Crossing, “Crossing,” begins with Nevare having a fitful night of sleep in advance of exams. At length, he gives up on the idea of returning to sleep and begins to make ready for the day, members of his cohort joining him. Spink muses darkly on the coming exams, and Nevare muses equally darkly on Old Thares, contrasting his present experience with the expectations that had been laid out for him and that he had taken to himself.

Following inspections and a desultory breakfast, Nevare and his cohort begin to sit for their exams. The first of them, for Captain Infal’s military history class, is described briefly. The next, for Captain Rusk’s* mathematics class, received more detail; after an exchange between Spink and Gord, Nevare is left to question whether they had colluded and cheated on their work. The following exam in Varnian is given less detail than Infal’s, and during the lunch period afterward, Nevare continues to chew over events in the mathematics exam.

After lunch, Nevare and his cohort report to Captain Maw’s engineering class where they are presented with a practical exercise: enacting a crossing of Tiler’s Creek on the Academy campus. Nevare is placed in command of his cohort, to his surprise, and he initially handles authority too gingerly to be of effect. Assessing the situation, he orders Caleb and Spink to accompany him across the creek, and the three cross. Efforts to have his cohort set up a structure to cross prove fruitless, and after a final effort in that line, Nevare realizes that the task is to cross the creek, not build a crossing. He voices the revelation, and other groups scramble to enact it, but by the time Maw ends the exam, only Nevare’s group has succeeded.

The exercise concluded, Maw dismisses all save Nevare. As he departs, Gord offers to have Nevare’s uniform cleaned, which offer he accepts; Gord also notes that Maw had ordered him to propose Nevare as the unit commander. In private, Maw reminds Nevare about his earlier offer to have Nevare commissioned as a Scout, and Nevare reiterates his refusal of the offer. Maw then opines on the role of the military in maintaining the status quo in Gernian politics, for which reason, the first-year cadets of Carneston House–Nevare’s cohort–will be culled. Nevare’s inclusion is by special request of his aunt. And while Maw acknowledges the unfairness of it at the local level, he notes that nothing is likely to change the practice, seemingly remaining convinced that such a thing serves the greater good.

After a reiteration of the commissioning offer, Maw dismisses Nevare, and the young man muses darkly on the limited fate he sees before him.

To address the chapter-length issue: the present chapter, in the edition of the novel I’m rereading, runs 24 pages in length, approximately 4.07% of the novel. It leaves 100 pages in the novel, as well. Hobb has a tendency to back-load her novels, events at the ends of them coming in rapid succession after abundant character development; so much seems to be the case for the present novel, as well, with events in the present chapter signalling a motion away from the story that has been set up for readers to follow.**

Also, for indexing purposes, the following: Cadet Captain Jaffers, Caleb, Captain Infal, Captain Maw, Captain Rusk, Carneston House, Carsina Grenalter, Colonel Stiet, Corporal Dent, Daraleen Burvelle, Dark Evening, Dewara, Epiny Burvelle, General Brodg, Gord Lading, Grand Square, Keft Burvelle, King Darwell, King Troven, King’s Cavalla Academy, Kort Braxan, Landsing, Landsingers, Lord Grenalter, Natred Verlaney, Nevare Burvelle, Old Thares, Oron, Plainsfolk, Rory Hart, Scout, Scout Tiber, Scout Vaxton, Sergeant Erib Duril, Sirlofty, Skeltzin Hall, Spinrek “Spink” Kester, Tiler’s Creek, Tobacco, Trist Wissom, Varnian,† War College. I note with some instance the prevalence of captains in the present chapter, as well as the mention of a general; there have only been a few mentions of the latter title (“Harbinger” and “The Academy” come to mind as offering examples) previously, which seems somewhat odd for a society evocative of the United States, the histories of which make much of the “great men” leading armies. But there is mention in the present chapter of limited opportunities for advancement, which makes sense in the context of hereditary military service; with as many people in uniform as would seem to result, there would be many more vying for promotion than there would be positions into which to promote them. Perhaps that explains matters.

Brodg has been mentioned before (see “Harbinger,” linked above), and not as a compliment. In the earlier mention, Keft notes that discipline is lax under his command owing to too much sympathy with the common soldiers from whom he is sprung (although there is an implication that he is descended in long line from noble blood, if “blood and breeding have thinned in his line” [44]). In the present chapter, Maw regards Brodg’s elevation to high command as an affront to natural order, saying “It goes against the grain, Burvelle. It rasps the sensibilities” (473). While such attitudes bespeak a classism that is, on its surface, at odds with the putatively egalitarian ideas of the nineteenth-century United States from which Gernia borrows, it must be remembered that

1. Gernia only borrows from the nineteenth-century United States; it is not the nineteenth-century United States.
2. The nineteenth-century United States was itself decidedly classist, even without a formal nobility or a hereditary monarchy. Class structures in the United States were (and, let’s be honest, are) heavily intertwined with concerns of race, ethnicity, and national origin; those structures center around ownership, particularly of land and means of production (and they still largely do, although with increasing abstraction).

It’s another point of tension in the novel between what should be and what is, something with which Nevare has had difficulty throughout the text.

Captain Maw (appropriately named; he serves as something of a mouthpiece for the quiet Gernian military establishment as well as the face of Nevare’s cohort’s consumption) does a fair bit in the present chapter. His political explication to Nevare reinforces earlier comments by Sefert Burvelle and others, driving home the idea that everything is political. Everything moves towards determining who is in power, who remains there, who does not, and what those are able to do who are there. And his educational explication is also telling; the idea that things have to be taught, that knowledge is not inbred, is one that grates against Gernian sensibilities, even if it is the case that that nation-state has had to adjust to those ideas. That equivalent training leads “less noble” people into better performance than “more noble” ones has implications for a caste-reliant society that it cannot readily face; if it is the case that literature offers its readers lessons for their own world, those the present chapter offers would seem to bear some consideration.

One other note: in the engineering challenge posed by Captain Maw, the difference between success and failure is one that relies on properly understanding the problem posed. Nevare stumbles upon it relatively late, but he does still get to that point, leading his patrol to (its ultimately futile) success in the exercise. This is of a piece with Hobb’s repeated emphasis on the importance of specificity of wording, something that pervades her work in a quiet sense even when it is not called out (as in such cases as are discussed here, here, and here, if not also elsewhere). It’s something to be expected from a professional writer, admittedly, joining an already-identified emphasis on the importance of writing‡ (and, indeed, closely akin thereto). But that it’s expected does not make it a bad thing.

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* It seems that the earlier issue regarding the name of this officer (see “Classmates“) really is simply a one-off typographical error. As noted in the earlier discussion, it happens from time to time, even with all the people involved in the professional production of text (discussed here).

** It must be noted that there has been some foreshadowing of this point. See, for example, “Letters from Home” (already linked above) and, in a more metanarrative sense, both “Magic and Iron” and “Harbinger” (also already linked above). Too, while there is value in “stock” narratives, their principle worth is in forming a base from which to work; much of the more interesting material comes in moving away from the standard and how that can be done well.

† A small note: while Nevare’s instructor in Varnian is named as he is introduced, the class he teaches receives little attention and he, himself, is not mentioned by name after the introduction. It is clear that Nevare devalues the course–and not because of its difficulty; military history presents problems for him, but he refers overtly to Infal and discusses the class in some detail, if not as much as some other classes. It might be wondered if Nevare’s attitudes, coupled with his difficulties, are a backhanded commendation of the value of humanistic study.

‡ See, for example, “Sword and Pen,” as well as “Letters from Home,” linked above.

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The nineteenth chapter of Shaman’s Crossing, “Intervention,” opens three days before the coming culling, Nevare noting that news of the event had spread, driving a flurry of intensive study and a concomitant dampening of the cadets’ mood. Individual subject difficulties are reported, and Trist continues to pressure Spink and Gord towards academic dishonesty. Spink also labors under an onus regarding his status on prohibition due to the accusations of immorality levied against him, one that Nevare begins to think applies to him, as well, when correspondence with his uncle stops.

Nevare’s concerns are not allayed when he is summoned by Colonel Stiet once again. Arriving as ordered, he finds his commander and his uncle awaiting him, and he is asked why he has not written to Sefert. Nevare reports that he has posted daily letters to him but had grown concerned about a lack of reply; the interruption is put down to problems with the post, and Sefert informs Colonel Stiet that he will ensure more direct correspondence between himself and his nephew. Sefert then takes his leave of the Colonel, although he pauses to talk to Caulder on his way out.

As Sefert walks Nevare back to his dormitories, he speaks with his nephew, remarking much on his wife’s political leanings and noting that, while he would not necessarily oppose a relationship between Spink and his daughter, such would have to wait for her to enter social adulthood–but that Daraleen would not be amenable to such a match and that it therefore will not be permitted. The pair also talk about the coming culling, as well as the upcoming Dark Evening and its associated liberties. Sefert assures Nevare that, while there were historical practices that have almost wholly fallen away, the holiday serves merely as a carnivalesque relaxation of norms rather than a flouting and refutation of them.

Sefert departs, leaving Nevare to check in with Sergeant Rufet and return to his studies. A letter from Carsina awaits him, and he muses over what he actually knows of her as he reads it, growing frustrated with Epiny for having inadvertently forced him to interrogate his assumptions. Studies proceed, with Nevare and his cohort arriving at last at the resolution that they either know the materials they need to or not, that no further work will avail them.

As Nevare sleeps the night before exams, he dreams of himself with Tree Woman. The version of himself that accompanies her is described with some revulsion, and Nevare hears that something comes soon from her and from the magic in which she is entwined. Nevare attempts to free himself and falls in the dream, waking to find himself on the floor of his quarters, bleeding from his old scalp-wound, and he returns to his bed and sleep with difficulty.

To address the chapter-length issue: the present chapter, in the edition of the novel I’m rereading, runs 20 pages in length, approximately 3.39% of the novel. While I continue to think there may be something to track in considering chapter-lengths–and I am tempted to go back to the Realm of the Elderlings corpus to pull out some of that data as soon as time allows, although I am a bit embarrassed not to have thought of looking at percentages prior to getting started on Soldier Son–I do not know what that something is at this point. So much said, I recall discussing various assignments (such as this one) back when I had students; one of the ways into finding what a given text is doing is to look at its textual features, including word-counts. The more technically-minded students benefited from the approach; those of more artistic leanings also got something else to consider. And it does require examination of a thing to rule out its relevance, in any event.

Also, for indexing purposes, the following: Caleb, Captain Infal, Carneston House, Carsina Grenalter, Caulder Stiet, Colonel Stiet, Corporal Hawley, Council of Lords, Daraleen Burvelle, Dark Evening, Elisi Burvelle, Epiny Burvelle, Gaser, Gernia, Gord Lading, Keft Burvelle, King Jurew, King Jurew’s War, King Troven, King’s Cavalla Academy, Kort Braxton, Long Night, Lord Kester, Mistress Pintor’s Finishing Conservatory, Natred Verlaney, Nevare Burvelle, Old Thares, Purissa Burvelle, Rory Hart, Sefert Burvelle, Sergeant Rufet, Shinter House, Spinrek “Spink” Kester, Tree Woman, Trist Wissom, Varnian. The inclusion of some few incidentals–Gaser, King Jurew and his war, Mistress Pintor’s Finishing Conservatory, and others–once again points to the verisimilitude of the setting, noting that there is life outside what Nevare experiences; there is a larger world in which he exists, much as there is one in which his readers do, and the correspondence makes for a more authentic setting.

A point of interest emerged for me as I reread the present chapter. While walking Nevare back to his quarters, Sefert notes not having had a sister: “Your father and I and our two younger brothers were like a den of bear cubs growing up” (440). Per “Harbinger” and “Bessom Gord,” as well as glancing mentions in other parts of the text, this means Nevare’s grandparents had an heir, a soldier son, a priest son, and an artist son. Yet, for all that Keft is strictly observant in his home, there is to my recollection no prior mention of Nevare’s other uncles, and I have to wonder about that.* Is it a matter of a more distant relationship among those brothers than between Sefert and Keft? Differences in age? Or perhaps a commentary on the perceived removal of governance and the force needed to maintain it from more humanisitic pursuits? It might well be there’s another scholarly someday therein, but then, I would suspect so much is the case.

Also of interest for me is Nevare’s incredulity at his aunt’s political drive (443). It is not at all to his credit that he should be surprised that the wife of a noble would have ambitions; it is more to his credit when he considers that Carsina might well have as rich an internal life as himself or his cousin (446), but it is much less so when he notes his assumptions about women’s dispositions (447). Misogyny, even if arguably well intentioned,** is not a mark in Nevare’s favor of in that of the culture which has given rise to him and of which he can be regarded as something of an exemplar.† The failure to consider others as people is never a good thing, and the fact that coming to consider others thus leads Nevare to doubt even those for whom he claims to care marks him as…flawed. But then, a character without flaw cannot develop and improve, and it is unfair to expect every (or any) character in a past-analogous setting to have modern attitudes (even if the earlier ones can be rejected as unhelpful or worse); it is also not the case that even a protagonist has to be likeable to engage readers and keep them going through the text.

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* I wonder, too, that Sefert does not employ his brother as his household priest, although that may simply be a matter of specializations not aligning. Too, that might have to do more with formal ecclesiastical structures in Gernia and surrounding countries; while Soldier Son is more explicit about religious practice than a lot of other fantasy work, there’s still much it does not say about churches and their practices.

** I am aware that intent matters far less than effect; I’ve stated as much repeatedly, in this rereading series and elsewhere. And I know that misogyny is a pattern in Gernia as well as in the United States from which I have repeatedly asserted it borrows. But I think it is rather a case of misunderstanding than of malevolence on Nevare’s part, and if it is the case that it remains oppressive, it is also the case that it is less bad–not better–than were it otherwise. Too, as noted, character development is a thing, and bad ideas in the young that are subsequently cast aside can, perhaps, be forgiven. I certainly have enough such foolishness in my past to hope so.

† I know I’ve not laid out the full argument of this point, and I know it’s not a straight-line argument to make, but I’ve also noted a large number of things to do, so adding one more makes little difference. For the moment, it will suffice to note that the fact of Nevare as the focal character forces him into the role of “typical” Gernian; he is the only one for whom readers have access to interiority and thus the effects of socialization. Given Keft’s insistence on correctness (if with a few choice quirks inserted), he can be regarded as, at least at a surface level and for the present, as what a good Gernian ought to be.

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The eighteenth chapter of Shaman’s Crossing, “Accusations,” starts with deepening winter and the approach of Dark Evening. Nevare reflects upon his family’s observance thereof and contrasts it with what his cohort reports of their own histories with the event. Nevare finds himself wondering about how his intended, Carsina, observes the event, his thoughts ranging to more general concerns and soon turning to anticipation of celebrations in which he might participate.

Events of the intervening days are reported, including a fracas between groups of cadets that leads to questons from Oron about the divisions between old and new noble families. Gord holds forth on the matter, which occasions some upset from several of his cohort, but as he explains, Nevare finds himself realizing that Gord’s intellect is more powerful than he had realized. Gord points out that they are being trained towards antagonism, the sons of old and new nobles, and Trist dismisses his holding forth as elementary.

Further discussion is interrupted by the appearance of Caulder Stiet, come to summon Spink to Colonel Stiet. Caulder upbraids Trist for his earlier experience with tobacco, leaving the cadet to mollify his commander’s son. Thus mollified, the boy reports that a culling is coming, with whole groups of students subject to expulsion based on their average performance on upcoming exams. Spink’s lack of mathematical acumen is cited as a source of concern, and some press Gord to offer illicit assistance to him.

Spink returns late in the evening, reporting that he has been accused of attempting to seduce Epiny and that she has been sent to a finishing school. He also reports Colonel Stiet’s open discrimination against the sons of new nobles, and he asks Nevare to help intercede with his uncle. Nevare chides Spink for what he regards as an overreaction but agrees to address the matter with his uncle. Nevare also chides Spink for offering to resign from the Academy after learning of the upcoming culling, and others of their cohort join in, exhorting Spink to fight for himself and for Epiny.

To address the chapter-length issue: the present chapter, in the edition of the novel I’m rereading, runs 18 pages in length, approximately 3.05% of the novel. One of the briefer chapters in the novel, it does seem to be setting up another narrative arc, presenting as it does specific challenges to Nevare and those around him, not only in the promised collective-punishment culling, but also in frustrations of Spink’s budding romantic interest in Epiny–and, it must be acknowledged, the seeming approach of something foreshadowed. Dark Evening, after all, is identified early in the novel (see “Sword and Pen,” linked above) as a potentially dangerous thing, and Nevare has been reminded (see “Letters from Home,” linked above, as well as “Séance” and “A Ride in the Park“) that Tree Woman is working. Too, the novel is in its final quarter at the end of the present chapter; it’s certainly time for things to be moving.

Also, for indexing purposes, the following: Caleb, Carsina Grenalter, Caulder Stiet, Colonel Stiet, Council of Lords, Daraleen Burvelle, Dark Evening, Dark Evening’s Eve, Drakes Hall, Dreadful Crimes, Epiny Burvelle, Gord Lading, Holy Writ, Jaris, Keft Burvelle, King Troven, King’s Cavalla Academy, King’s Road, Kort Braxan, Lord Jarfries, Lord Simem, Natred Verlaney, Nevare Burvelle, Newspapers, Old Thares, Oron, Rory Hart, Sefert Burvelle, Selethe Burvelle, Sergeant Erib Duril, Sondringham Hall, Spinrek “Spink” Kester, Talerin Braxan, Tiber, Tobacco, Trist Wissom, Varnian, Widevale, Yaril Burvelle. Again, although the chapter is brief, there is much going on in it; it could well be expected to pull in a fair amount of material therefore.

An early comment in the chapter strikes me: when reading accounts of Dark Evning, Nevare wonders “What sane woman would leave her safe and comfortable home simply to indulge in one night of licentiousness?” (417). On the surface of it, there is some sense in such wonderings; questions of relative risk versus reward are most always worth considering. At the same time, the question speaks to the patriarchal / misogynistic tendencies of Gernian society, already mentioned as at work in the novel. (See, for reference, “Harbinger,” “The Return,” and the already-linked “Letters from Home,” “Séance,” and “A Ride in the Park.”) Too, certain assumptions are betrayed by the specific question: that the home is safe, that it is comfortable, that both safety and comfort are worth retaining, that a single night of licentiousness is all that is on offer, and likely others. It speaks perhaps (again) to the ongoing shelteredness Nevare displays; it is clear (again) that his upbringing has left him woefully ignorant of a number of things, and, given the social context in which it occurred, how similarly ignorant his father must have been is a question worth asking.

Reflecting on such things, I am reminded that Hobb makes much of second sons in her work. Verity in the Farseer novels is a second son, Brashen Trell in the Liveship Traders is also one, as is Selden Vestrit. The first must contend with his elevation and the consequences of the same, the second must address the youthful missteps made because of resentment of that position, and the third, although not much developed as a character by the time the Soldier Son novels were published (and presumably written), occupies a strangely hybrid position. There is a temptation to read Nevare (and, to a lesser extent due to less narrative focus, Keft) as an iteration of the role of a second son against the other examples in Hobb’s body of work, another scholarly someday that tantalizes; it seems something of a through-line in her writings and thus worth some attention.

I also note in the present chapter another repeated feature of the milieu: Gernian literacy. Caleb reads, and lends to Nevare, “several lewdly illustrated stories” (417), and he seemingly subscribes to a periodical (425), while Gord asks of his cohort “Don’t any of you read the newspapers?” (418). The presence of such things reinforces comments made regarding “The Academy” and (again) “Letters from Home,” that written culture in Gernia is far from restricted to elevated matters. It is a small thing, perhaps, but a telling one; for all the problems it has–and it has many–Gernia does seem to get some things right, and widespread literacy is such a thing. If it is the case, as I continue to contend, that Gernia is something of a stand-in for the United States, it may, if affectively, be taken as something of a hopeful sign.

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The seventeenth chapter of Shaman’s Crossing, “Tiber,” begins as Nevare and Spink are taken back to the King’s Cavalla Academy. Nevare ruminates on the experience of the séance, trying to slot that experience in with his beliefs and rejecting the whole thing as a childish error indulged once and not again. Nevare’s uncle, accompanying them, admonishes the cadets towards caution and obliges Nevare to write to him daily, reporting events.

Arriving at the Academy, Nevare’s uncle goes to call on Colonel Stiet while Nevare and Spink return to their quarters. Nevare thinks he sees Caulder Stiet along the way and muses on his lack of desire to do so. Spink speaks to Nevare of his infatuation with Epiny and asks Nevare his opinion of the matter, which Nevare offers: Epiny is childish and her mother would object to Spink. Spink takes the comments as offering hope, however, and Nevare concedes that he would be pleased to have Spink as kin, although Epiny still strikes him as an odd choice for a wife.

The pair join Caleb and Oron and hear report of their exploits on leave. When they return to their quarters, they find them in a state of upset, their goods having been strewn about and dirtied–although those of Natred and Kort are relatively untouched. Caleb and Oron report having no knowledge of the event, and a quick survey of other quarters finds Gord’s possessions more thoroughly vandalized. After a brief discussion and an equally brief internal consultation, Nevare reports the vandalism to Sergeant Rufet. The sergeant surveys the damage, questions cadets he can, and orders such restoration as he can, which is not much.

As cleanup commences and other cadets arrive, they express vexation at the situation. Much opprobrium attaches itself to Gord, and Rory opines on Gord having invited the abuses directed at him. Nevare makes his disapproval clear, and he muses on the divisions at work within his cohort. He also, as cleanup continues, finds that the stone Dewara had left in him has gone missing. When Gord returns, a posy pinned to his coat, he is beleagured by events and cadets’ reactions to the same, and he is shamed by excusing himself from doing more to aid the other cadet.

Nevare muses further on the divisions that have emerged within his cohort, and he finds himself summoned to an inquiry regarding Cadet Lieutenant Tiber. Rebuked for not being more forthcoming, Nevare is ordered to report events of the night Tiber and Gord had been injured; he follows the order, rehearsing events and noting the involvement of Caulder Stiet, Cadet Ordo, and Cadet Jaris in them. Colonel Stiet notes that he will be advising Nevare’s father of events and dismisses the cadet, but Lord Tiber, also present, interjects, even though his son is reinstated.

Belatedly, Nevare returns to his classes, considering how he must appear to his fellows, and the gloss of ensuring events confirms that appearance. He does write to his uncle, and he receives written rebuke from his father for his failure of forthrightness. Spink also begins receiving letters, largely from Epiny and mostly concerning Nevare. Nevare finds himself jealous that he has not received word from Carsina as he and Spink confer.

Time passes at the Academy, winter settling in. Nevare contrasts the suburban environment with that of his home and notes the prevalence of illness among his cohort. He also notes the increasing practice by professors at the Academy of pitting cadets against each other based on their backgrounds as older or newer noble lines. Actions by cadets against one another are noted.

The chapter concludes with an encounter between Nevare and Tiber, no longer a Cadet Lieutenant, but a Scout. The new Scout asks Nevare about his motives for acting and withholding action, and he explains his posting. Nevare notes that Captain Maw had suggested he would be a good Scout, and Tiber notes that he had received the same message, remarking that it is Maw’s way of trying to secure at least some future for cadets he expects will be discarded. Tiber departs, leaving Nevare to wonder at his own future.

To address the chapter-length issue: the present chapter, in the edition of the novel I’m rereading, runs 22 pages in length, approximately 3.73% of the novel. While the notion that chapter-length indicates importance has been displayed not to be in effect in the present novel, the present chapter does read less as driving things forward than it does as concluding some narrative threads. That of Tiber seems to have come to a close, for example; even if he does reappear (and it has been long enough since I last read the Soldier Son novels that I do not recall, which I am working to fix), his departure from the Academy at this point reads as another completed narrative arc. I do not know that there is quite as clean a break at the end of the present chapter as at the end of “The Return,” that the span of “Initiation” to “Tiber” is as discrete a story as the first five chapters of the novel offer (or that “Sword and Pen” through “Classmates” comprises one), but with Tiber having “walked away from [Nevare] into the cold and the dark” (415), it is clear that something has come to an end.

Also, for indexing purposes, the following: Cadet Lading, Cadet Lieutenant Tiber, Caleb, Captain Maw, Carneston House, Carsina Grenalter, Caulder Stiet, Colonel Stiet, Daraleen Burvelle, Dr. Jakib Amicas, Epiny Burvelle, Gettys, Gord Lading, Jaris, Keft Burvelle, King’s Cavalla Academy, King’s Road, Kort Braxan, Lord Tiber, Natred Verlaney, Nevare Burvelle, Ordo, Oron, Posy, Rory Hart, Scout Tiber, Sefert Burvelle, Sergeant Rufet, Specks, Spinrek “Spink” Kester, Tree Woman, Trist Wissom, Yaril Burvelle. It is not as exhaustive a list as some other chapters, even some shorter chapters, have generated, but it does offer some points of interest that might well be pursued later. There are scholarly somedays that might dawn from it.

A brief note before I go on: there is much that might be unpacked from Tiber’s name, as I probably ought to have done earlier. The word itself refers primarily to the river on the banks of which Rome stands (although there are other resonances that might be tracked). While the cadet lieutenant-turned-scout is the son of a new noble, so that there is some juxtaposition between the name and the Eternal City, it may be noted that the river does push forward; its mouth has demonstrably advanced, leaving what had been a port some distance inland. In the novel, Tiber has something of a reputation as a data-driven agitator, one working to upset practices that serve mostly to reinforce a status quo his family’s elevation threatens. Although there is some frustration of the comparison, he is something along the lines of various civil rights proponents, forward-thinking people, so there is something of the emblematic about his name, if subtle.

Another short note: the present chapter provides Gord’s surname, Lading. It is not directly expressed, requiring reference to the events of “Bessom Gord,” so I admit that it took a bit for me to make the connection, but it is still one I am glad to see in place. I am less glad to see the particular gesture towards emblematic naming; “lading” is cargo or the loading of the same, and given Rory’s comments about Gord as cleanup of the cadets’ rooms is underway, as well as long-standing remarks about his size, it seems something of a cruel joke for that to be his family name. In any case, earlier entries in my rereading have been updated to accommodate the new name, as was done with earlier name-revelations.

The chapter largely serves as a meditation on courage and an(other) display of Nevare’s failure in that quality. Here, as elsewhere, Nevare is forced to confront his refusal to do what he knows he is supposed to do; he knows he is supposed to report wrongdoings he observes, something demonstrated early on in the novel. (Given that Nevare finds rebuke, perhaps obliquely, for having done so, he might be forgiven for not being so forthcoming later in his life, but it seems a strange lesson for a protagonist to have taken. Then again, it is not the case that protagonists necessarily must be figures for emulation; Caxton bids readers of Malory, whose knights are not always in the right, to “Doo after the good and leue the euyl” they display, and Hobb’s own focal characters in other works are not always or necessarily often exemplars to follow [as witness this, among others]). Here, as elsewhere, Nevare is rebuked for not doing what he knows he ought to do. Here, as is less common elsewhere, Nevare is contrasted with those who are courageous, including Epiny. The juxtaposition between the ideal he acknowledges aspiring towards and his actual behavior is especially emphatic in the present chapter. Whether this is a permanent thing or part of his continued development as a character, something overcome later, the continued rereading will remind me, and I look forward to finding out again.

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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 25 pages in length, approximately 4.24% of the novel–close to 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 Lading, 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 19 pages in length, approximately 3.22% 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 Erib 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 15 pages in length, approximately 2.54% 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. Jakib Amicas, Dutiful Wife, Epiny Burvelle, Garlic, Gord Lading, 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 40 pages in length, approximately 6.78% 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. Jakib Amicas, Garin, Gord Lading, 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 Hart, “Selecting Strategy in Uneven Terrain,” Sergeant Erib 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 27 pages in length, approximately 4.58% of the novel. Halfway through the chapter-count, the novel has used 307 of its pages, approximately 52.03% 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 Lading, 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 Hart, 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 formal 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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Read the previous entry in the series here.
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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 25 pages in length, approximately 4.24% 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 (plus front matter) and approximately one twenty-fifth 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 Lading, Jared, Jaris, Keft Burvelle, King’s Cavalla Academy, Kort Braxan, Laudanum, Lofert, Miles, Natred Verlaney, Nevare Burvelle, Old Thares, Ordo, Oron, Rory Hart, Sergeant Erib 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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