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An Interview with David Dalglish

David Dalglish is a highly prolific author, with over fifteen self-published and twelve traditionally published epic fantasy novels to his name. Dalglish’s fantasy series include The Half-Orcs (self-published), Shadowdance (Orbit Books), The Paladins (self-published), The Breaking World (47North), The Seraphim Trilogy (Orbit Books), and The Keepers (Orbit Books). His latest series is The Vagrant Gods, also published by Orbit. The first book of the series, The Bladed Faith, was released in 2022, and the next entry, The Sapphire Altar, drops on January 10, 2023.

[GdM] Your upcoming novel, The Sapphire Altar, is the second entry in your new series, The Vagrant Gods. Could you tell us more about The Vagrant Gods? What excites you most about this latest series and where we are in the story?

[DD] The Vagrant Gods, at its core, is about a group of found family rebels fighting against the overwhelming force of the Everlorn Empire. The prince of a conquered island, Cyrus, watches his parents slaughtered, his kingdom broken, and the two gods he’s been taught to worship killed before his eyes. Believed dead, he’s instead smuggled to the Ahlai family, who travel realm to realm, funneling wealth, arms, and training in to foster rebellions against the Everlorn Empire. Their hope is to turn Cyrus into a folklore hero, a sort of Robin Hood if you will, for the people to rally around. And so Cyrus becomes the Vagrant in disguise, and trains with the Ahlai family to become a killer capable of defeating an army known for killing gods.

With The Sapphire Altar, we’ve reached the folk hero stage. The Vagrant’s legacy has begun, and he’s had some epic fights to lend credibility to his claims. But the task before him is immense, and the bloody burdens of being the Vagrant are starting to wear on him, especially the idea of where Cyrus ends and the Vagrant begins. Worse, many who love him are starting to doubt victory is possible, and have begun searching for other solutions…including turning to foreign gods, or bringing back slain gods in forms far more vicious and cruel.

[GdM] How did you conceive the protagonist of The Vagrant Gods, Cyrus?

[DD] Funnily enough, he wasn’t the main protagonist originally. Much of the Vagrant Gods was salvaged from an initial rejected pitch titled Garden of the Bone Gods. One of the characters, the Vagrant, was originally introduced “fully formed” in a sense, to what Cyrus will eventually become in the Vagrant Gods. He was a mysterious assassin with an unknown past, and over time, you’d learn of how he was a prince of the conquered nation in disguise, seeking to avenge his slaughtered family and gods. So after the pitch was rejected, I went through Garden and yanked out a lot of the minor characters that I loved and reworked their backstories to fit them into this new idea. With Cyrus, I realized he could be the focal point, and instead of starting much later after the invasion, the book could follow his entire journey, now with a much greater emphasis on his personal revenge.

[GdM] In The Vagrant Gods, Cyrus is helped and propelled forward by supporting characters that are in depth and rounded as he is. Anyone of them could move forward have their own series easily. For example, the characters Stasia and Mari are complicated, flawed and compelling. What was their creation like? Did their characters evolve through the writing process, or did you have a solid idea of who they were from the start?

[DD] With this new trilogy I did something I’d never done before. While the story was still just bouncing around in my head, I focused pretty heavily on who the main cast would be, as well as what signature moment I’d include to introduce them. I fell in love with Stasia and Mari in particular, so much so that while I was still writing the third Keepers book, Voidbreaker, I took a few days off to write one chapter for each character, because I was determined not to lose that feeling of who they were. With Mari Ahlai, it was the introduction of her as a god-whisperer, a person who can commune with dead gods and petition them for their power. For Stasia, I had a single scene in my head, that of her pounding her ax into the bloody corpse of an imperial soldier, and it is in that mad, almost feral state, she is found by her stunned lover. When I came back to VG months later, I started with those scenes and began fleshing out the story around them, and getting a real feel for who they were. Stasia would be brash, crude, and immensely cocky. Mari would be a sweetheart, empathetic, and loathe battle…but still accept the responsibility of her role as a god-whisperer, and tear into battle just as fearsome as her older sister.

[GdM] You take on some very heavy themes in this story, especially the idea of colonialism and imperialism. Did you do any research into the effects of this kind of conquering, and the systematic destruction of culture and religion in preparation for writing this series?

[DD] I looked at it from two angles. For the Everlorn Empire, well, I grew up in a very conservative, religious area, with a lot of people (due to literature like the Left Behind series) convinced the end times are approaching and a religious war will soon be fought across the Earth. Death will be everywhere, and there’s a chilling excitement toward this believed eventuality of millions upon millions of people all across the globe dying in horrific ways to plagues, curses, and the like. It’s not hard to take those sermons, that ideology, and rework it on an extravagant, fantasy scale. There is the God-Incarnate, and there are the heathen gods to be slaughtered and their people saved. There is a war to be fought, and it will be fought with prayer and blood sacrifice. I touched on this a little bit in Bladed Faith, but there’s a lot more of it in Sapphire Altar, especially through the POV of a former imperial paragon-turned-heretic, Arn Bastell.

As for the methods of the conquest, that I did research, as well as have some lengthy chats on the phone with multiple sensitivity readers. Almost everything in the book is a near one to one example of something previously done by, say, the British Empire in India or the US government to Native Americans. Honestly, a lot of what is in VG is toned down compared to some of the truly horrifying examples out there.

 [GdM] I would love to know more about Cyrus’s religion, it is so creative. What was its inception? It is very different then the religious pantheons presented in today’s fantasy novels.

[DD] All of my novels have divine beings involved in some way. The Half-Orcs, for example, had jealous brother gods warring against each other, with humanity effectively serving as playing pieces on a board in their game to prove whose methods were superior in creating a lasting society. With VG, I wanted make these gods actively present in the day to day lives of those who worshiped them. And so it became more of a mutual trust, like children with a parent, for most of these gods…and at the same time, the beliefs of the people directly empower their gods, which means the gods are as much a reflection of the societies birthing them as they are shapers of those societies. Endarius the Winged Lion exemplifies strength, and gives that strength to those who love him. He attends feasts given in his name, and breathes upon the blind to restore their sight. He loves, and is loved, and is considered protector of his island, and effectively rules alongside the royal family he himself appointed.

And then comes the Everlorn Empire, who see these gods not as parents or guides but ruling monsters. Belief is literal power in VG, and if that belief is not given to the God-Incarnate, then it is dangerous, and must be captured at all costs.

[GdM] Your fight scenes are brutal. Many authors use different techniques when creating realistic and enthralling action sequences. How do you craft a believable fight scene? Do you storyboard, play it in your head, pants it, or another technique?

[DD] A good fight scene has an emotional flow to it, and I am extremely focused on that aspect above all else. A lot of the nitty gritty details are in service to what emotion I want to convey. Things going well? The hero is nimbly parrying every thrust, slashing and carving through his enemies with a grim smile. Am I trying to really push how horrible battles can be? Then we’re seeing the broken bones, we’re hearing the gasps and pained cries as swords slash open flesh and the dying crawl along the floor. Am I trying to keep things tense in a character specific duel? That’s when the heavy details come out. I’m describing the individual movements of every weapon, laying out their positions, what the POV character is hoping to do, what they see, the tells from a twist of an ankle or the pulling back of a parrying dagger. Details become clearer. The sound of steel hitting steel, the strain to hold back a brutal hit, the pain, the wrenching of muscles, all to slow down time and force you to stay in that moment as the battle commences until I’m ready to guide the emotional flow into the next release, be it victory or heartbreaking defeat.

[GdM] You have extensive experience as both a self-published and traditionally published author. What do you see as some of the pros and cons of these alternative routes to publication?

[DD] The best part of self-publishing is that you’re going it alone, unlike trade publishing, where you work with a team.

The worst part of self-publishing is that you’re going it alone, unlike trade publishing, where you work with a team.

If you are willing to be a marketer, a cover designer, to study trends, to set up Facebook ads, do book promos, do the formatting, and all the while also write the bloody book in the first place? Self-publishing can be amazing. It can also burn you out, and have you scrambling to wear a lot of different hats, some of which may simply not suit you no matter how hard you try.

[GdM] Over the course of your career, how have you seen indie publishing evolve? Do you see self-publication primarily as a pathway toward getting a traditional book deal, or do you think authors can establish and sustain a sizeable audience through self-publishing alone?

 [DD] Well, when I first started, self-publishing was seen as something you did when you gave up ever having a trade deal. That, obviously, has now changed. But absolutely you can build a sizeable, sustainable income through self-publishing. People were doing that back when I started in 2010. There’s a staggering amount of money going to indies, but because of that, the market is absolutely ruthless now, infinitely more difficult and cutthroat than when I started. I consider myself beyond fortunate I started when I did. If I tried to launch an indie career now, I honestly do not know I’d have achieved even a fraction of the success I’ve had.

[GdM] You earned a degree in mathematics from Missouri Southern State University. How have you balanced your love of math with your passion for writing? What advice do you have for students who wish to pursue a dual career in English and a STEM field such as mathematics?

[DD] Hahahahaha there is no balance, no jobs, I spent like five years working for Pizza Hut after graduating with that degree and escaped only because my writing took off. My advice would be to do ANYTHING ELSE.

[GdM] How did you initially fall in love with fantasy? When were you first inspired to become a writer?

[DD] I grew up in a small town with a small library with an even smaller fantasy section, so while growing up, I didn’t read too much fantasy. I had the Lord of the Rings, the Hobbit, and a stack of comic books. What I did have, though, were games like Chrono Trigger, Final Fantasy VI, and Legend of Zelda. I adored their medieval aesthetics, and then one Christmas my parents bought a word processor. So began The Crystals of Power, my 60 page shameless FFIV rip-off, followed by a handwritten Chrono Trigger fanfic called Second Death. I had a folder I kept in my room full of story synopses, all planned to take place in a shared world. So I was already writing fantasy, and then a friend of mine loaned me the Dark Elf Trilogy by R. A. Salvatore. I read it once a year, every year, throughout high school. If I know how to write a fight scene, it’s because of Drizzt. From there, I grabbed whatever D&D novels I could find. To cap that off, my senior year, I had a Creative Writing class where the teacher just booked the computer lab, brought us there five days a week, and gave us the singular instruction of ‘write something’. Anything. Have a project, work on it, and she’d grade it depending on what it was (be it poems, short stories, or in my case, a 20k word novella). A lot of the early Half-Orcs world-building I did in that class, including the creation of multiple characters like the Paladin, Lathaar, or the Daughter of Balance, Mira.

[GdM] Could you tell us about your approach to writing? Do you develop a detailed outline before diving into the writing itself?

[DD] Everything starts with me daydreaming while I go on walks listening to music. I usually start very wide in terms of scope, pondering world-building aspects I think will allow me to do a lot of neat stuff. For Soulkeeper, as an example, I wanted a world where magic and monsters all appeared in a singular instant. Spells and healing prayers and fantastical creatures, going from stories and rumors to very real in the blink of an eye. From there, I brainstorm basic questions and answers. What creatures appear? What magic? How does it work now? Why is it appearing now? Who are the gods, and how are they involved now? When I start to lock down those big picture things, I then start pondering characters. First would be how they are involved in the grander picture (in Soulkeeper, I made the main POV hero someone who would be responsible for defending humanity from the sudden arrival of the unknown).

All of this I do in my head, and generally while I’m busy writing a different book. Things change drastically over the course of a few months as I toss ideas I don’t like and wonder how different things might work. A cast of three or four main characters bubbles up, and eventually, when it comes time to write, I have enough of a picture that I can write out a few initial chapters, establishing a narrative flow, some of the stakes, and the overall vibe of the story. After that? That’s when I start writing out an extensive outline, building on the things I’ve already decided and the goals I want to accomplish and try to figure out how to accomplish it all.

[GdM] You are under 40 years old and have already published over twenty-seven novels. What is your advice for achieving such a high level of productivity?

[DD] Ok so start really young, like, in your early twenties. Then get to be a professional writer as your full-time career from the age of twenty-six. Finally, crank out two books or so a year for twelve years straight, and you’ll hit that number. It’s just that easy.

I’m only being mildly sarcastic, honestly. I’ve been stupidly blessed with how my career path has worked, first through self-publishing, then traditional publishing with Orbit. I can hit this level of productivity because writing is my day job, and I try to do around 3k or so words a day, five days a week. Sometimes I hit it, plenty of times I don’t, but just the sheer amount of time dedicated to putting my butt in a chair and writing means twice a year, on average, I’ll have myself a finished novel that is hopefully something someone will want to read.

[GdM] You have created highly complex fantasy worlds. How do you keep everything straight and make sure there are no inconsistencies in your worldbuilding?

[DD] Well, first you launch your career writing nearly twenty novels set in the exact same world where you absolutely screw up and have inconsistencies in your world-building and even forget you killed off a character at one point…and THEN you start keeping an actual notebook like a smart person, full of character descriptions, family trees, timelines, and other things that can be hard to remember or impossible to find when you actually need it. For the Keepers Trilogy, for example, I have this tiny leather notebook just full of scribbles, lists showing what magical creature was created by which dragon, what the power structure for the Keeping Church is, etc. All things I desperately wish I had for the Half-Orcs, as I come back to it after several years to try to write its ninth book…

[GdM] Do you have a favorite book or series among your published works, or one that you feel especially proud of?

[DD] I think, without question, The Sapphire Altar is the best book I’ve even written. In terms of favorite, I still cherish the fourth Paladins novel, The Broken Pieces, just because the final few chapters are about the most emotionally impactful writing I’ve ever done and years later I still get the occasional email from readers heartbroken and devastated and wanting to either thank me or yell angrily at me. Or both.

[GdM] Your series, The Breaking World, is coauthored with Robert J. Duperre. What is the experience like working together with a coauthor vs writing solo?

[DD] Rob deserves so much credit for that whole trilogy. It wasn’t a true co-authorship like some friends I know, in which each of us wrote equal amounts in the original draft. With Breaking World, I kinda let Rob go nuts in my own world. He’d been with me from the very beginning of my career, and was who I went to with phone calls whenever I got stuck on a story idea. So he wrote the vast majority of the rough draft. After every chapter, I’d immediately tear into it that day or the next, rewriting portions, melding the voice to something more of a mixture of mine, and overall making sure it matched my earlier books in Dezrel. And then we’d have more phone calls, arguments about the fates of various characters, or sometimes I’d just ax an entire chapter because I hated where it was going. I was an awful tyrant, sometimes. How he’s still my friend, I don’t know.

[GdM] What are some of your biggest inspirations? Any influences that would surprise your readers?

[DD] Plenty of them people can guess, I’d say. Trigun massively influenced how I write heroes. JRPGs in general have me creating little found family groups for almost every novel of mine. You can hear the rolling of dice from D&D in the Half-Orcs and the Keepers Trilogy. Probably the most random influence would be a phase I went through in college where I read nearly every single Stephen King novel and short story collection I could find. I’d say it, combined with R.A. Salvatore’s influence, have made my writing pretty accessible.

[GdM] Which book or series do you recommend as the best entry point for readers new to David Dalglish?

[DD] This has actually become a difficult question to answer because what I tried to do with each major series varies over the course of these last twelve years. In the end, I usually try to guide people to the type of fantasy they like. If you want assassins and breakneck pacing in a relatively low fantasy setting, start with A Dance of Cloaks. Are magical creatures, unique world-building, and kind-hearted heroes your thing? Soulkeeper. Just want the best written book, with the strongest, most diverse cast of characters? The Bladed Faith.

That said, each series of mine is meant to stand alone, so you can also dive into The Half-Orcs or The Paladins, but I’m always a little hesitant to lead people to those first since they’re some of my oldest writing and, well, it can be a little rough and weird over there.

[GdM] What are your upcoming plans after finishing The Vagrant Gods series?

[DD] Well, as I mentioned earlier, I’m usually plotting out the basics of the next story while finishing out the old, and I did the same with book three of Vagrant Gods. Not only am I about halfway done with the rough draft of the ninth Half-Orc novel, Legacy of the Watcher, but I’ve got about four chapters done on a pitch for a brand new world, one that hews a bit closer to the mysterious world building of Soulkeeper, but with a more low fantasy setting and overall darker vibe. We’ll see if it goes anywhere!

 

David Dalglish graduated from Missouri Southern State University in 2006 with a degree in Mathematics. He’s self-published over fifteen novels, as well as had twelve books traditionally published through Orbit Books and 47North.

He also has a lovely wife and three beautiful daughters, with all four being far better than he deserves.

Interview Conducted by John Mauro and Beth Tabler

 Check Out “The Vagrant Gods” by David Dalglish

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REVIEW: Ordinary Monsters by J.M. Miro

Ordinary Monsters is a gas-lit fantasy romp primarily set in Victorian England and Scotland, but with side-stops in America and Japan. While the larger setting is not overwhelmingly fantastical – the Victorian elements largely accord with our historical version – the story revolves around those fantastical elements that differentiate this world from ours.

Ordinary Monsters utilises the popular trope of a secret society of magic users (although I use the term magic loosely here) operating outside the mundane everyday world. Given the time period, this allows ample opportunity to lean heavily on Victorian archetypes of occult spiritualism, moneyed clubs with hidden agendas and, yes, orphans.

The secret society in question operates the mysterious Cairndale Institute, which recruits chosen children to board on its grounds in Scotland. Admission requires certain special “Talents”, which are the equivalent of innate superpowers. Invisibility and accelerated healing get a look in, along with some more novel powers, such as the ability to manipulate soot and dust. Recruitment, it should also be said, is an aggressive rather than a passive process. The Institute’s agents actively seek out disinherited children worldwide to install within their program.

Overseeing the Cairndale Institute is the enigmatic Dr Berghast, but his true intentions are murky to say the least. Is he a true philanthropist or is there a darker agenda involved?

The story initially follows private detective Alice Quicke, employed by the Institute to locate a young American talent named Charlie Ovid, who possesses powers of self-healing. Charlie is incarcerated in a Natchez City warehouse while the local judiciary and police try to figure out what to do with someone sentenced to death but who cannot be killed. After this case resolves, and not without some bloodshed, Alice leaves Charlie with her partner and goes it alone to find an eight-year-old potential recruit named Marlowe. However, soon after taking charge of him, Alice becomes aware that malignant forces are after the boy and they are both in grave danger.

As the children and Alice delve more deeply into the mysteries of the Institute and its enemies, so to do they delve deeper into the magical underworld that underpins this alternate Victorian era world. The Institute has quite the history it seems, and this history is tied to a disgraced former student named Jacob Marber. Along with Charlie and Alice, Marber is a viewpoint character and a central antagonist. As the novel progresses, flashbacks involving Jacob Marber allow the novel to venture away from Scotland to explore historical Japan, while also granting insight into the history of the Institute and the genesis of Marber’s conflict with the Institute.

The story entails plenty of action and super-powered battles, including a major set-piece on a steam train. Supernatural creatures, a portal to the land of the dead and magical artifacts all make an appearance as Alice, Charlie and the Institute children begin to unravel the Institute’s secrets.

So, did Ordinary Monsters meet my expectations? No, it didn’t, but this is not necessarily a bad thing.

Ordinary Monsters’ cover sets up a mysterious, spiritual ambience, displaying a crow flying across a stormy green background and viewed through an archway. Using the author’s initials rather than full name also felt like a tip of the hat to a certain ambiguity. In part because of this, I was expecting it to lean into Victorian literature a bit harder than it does: ornate prose, indulgent description, maybe an antiquated style. I also expected it to be a bit more of a diabolical puzzle-box, with some sleight of hand, illusion and magical misdirection. It’s a hefty tome after all, somewhere over the 600-page mark in the trade paperback U.K. edition.

As it turned out, Ordinary Monsters’ style and tone fit comfortably into contemporary spec fic. The plot boils down to a prevent the end-of-the-world adventure, and in certain respects it had a Hollywood feel. YA overtones are also present, especially when the focus is off Alice or Jacob and on the children of the Institute. This is by no means a bad thing, it’s just different from what I was expecting.

If I were put to swordpoint, I’d say it could perhaps have been shorter and the characters could occasionally have been more rounded. I also would have preferred it if the mythology were a little deeper, and at times I found myself wondering about the underpinnings of the arcane elements. But that said, did I enjoy it? Yes, I did. It’s an entertaining, straightforward read, and the historical elements are a strong point. The Victorian era is richly and vividly described. I felt like I was up to my proverbial boots in the nightsoil of Victorian England.

My final verdict is that Ordinary Monsters is definitely worth checking out if you’re keen for some darker Victorian-era fantasy.

Read Ordinary Monsters by J.M. Miro

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REVIEW: Clytemnestra by Constanza Casati

Constanza Casati’s debut Clytemnestra is a worthy addition to the shelf of Greek mythology-inspired retellings. Taking the oft-overlooked Spartan sister and telling her story in bursts from childhood to the aftermath of Agamemnon’s famous death, this manages to create a version of Clytemnestra who is both utterly real and adds something new to the canon. Even knowing how the story goes, I felt there was never a dull moment in this, and that is really down to the strength of Constanza Casati’s haunting writing and her brilliant focus on characterisation.

Told in burst from a range of key moments in Clytemnestra’s life, this account is concerned with establishing her as a strong woman, ruler and leader in her own right. It tells the familiar story from the perspective of the women who lived it–with a clear focus on agency and Clytemnestra’s role in Mycenae. This is the latest in a series of books about her and her more famous sister, Helen–but the one that stands out to me as both the most appealing to a grimdark audience and the one with the clearest focus. Both Jennifer Saint’s Elektra and Claire Heywood’s The Daughters of Sparta, where Clytemnestra takes up a large role, ultimately cover a far larger chunk of story, and while excellent books in their own right, end up less character-driven.

The key theme to mention here is feminine rage. Clytemnestra is a woman ambitious and driven, determined to carve out power for herself in a world stacked against her. She experiences great personal tragedy at various points in her life–as those of you who are familiar with Greek mythology will be aware of–and uses it to grow stronger, to shape herself into a figure of authority. Until she hits her breaking point. I’ve always found her to be an incredibly interesting figure, far more so than Helen, whose main quality is her beauty. Clytemnestra is fierce and intelligent, loving and ferocious. And it is brilliant to see her be given this space, a full novel, over 450 pages, to be herself, to bloom and show all the facets of her personality.

It is clear that Constanza Casati has done her research, drawing on a range of sources outside of the most obvious Homer. This has lead to a well-rounded, tense and perfectly paced story with nuance–and an ending that is surprising even to those who know what to expect. A highlight of the genre and a must-read for those who enjoy mythology and retellings.

Read Clytemnestra by Constanza Casati

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REVIEW: Conan – Blood of the Serpent by S. M. Stirling

Conan – Blood of the Serpent marks the long-awaited return of the fantasy genre’s most famous barbarian hero to long-form prose. First introduced to the world by Robert E. Howard in a 1932 issue of Weird Tales magazine, the Conan stories have had a tumultuous publication history. After Howard’s 1936 suicide, hardback releases by Gnome Press in the 1950s and enduring support in the pages of fanzines like Amra kept the barbarian from disappearing into obscurity. Editors L. Sprague de Camp and Lin Carter further popularized Conan in the 1960s with a series of paperback novels that blended Howard’s original material, “posthumous collaborations” based in part on unpublished fragments and outlines, and stories created whole cloth by de Camp and Carter. While the publishers and contributors involved shifted multiple times in the decades to follow, paperbacks featuring Conan the Cimmerian were a ubiquitous presence on bookstore shelves until the late 90s, when releases slowed to a trickle. Harry Turtledove’s Conan of Venarium was released as late as 2003, but the recent trend has been to reject pastiche and return to Howard’s original texts, excised of the occasionally controversial embellishments and expansions of later authors. Some fans argue that the original Howard work is all we need, but others still yearn to see Conan set out on new adventures. The past few years have shown a tentative few steps back in that direction with the 2019 publication of two novellas—one by John C. Hocking and one by Scott Oden—serialized as part of Marvel’s Conan the Barbarian and The Savage Sword of Conan comic book series. Oden was also commissioned to write a short story for inclusion with the Conan Unconquered (2019) video game. Perhaps signaling the start of a greater revival, Conan – Blood of the Serpent is the first original full-length novel to feature Conan in nearly twenty years.

Positioned as a prequel to the 1936 Howard novella Red Nails, Conan – Blood of the Serpent opens with the titular barbarian languishing in Sukhmet, a backwater village in Stygia, the Hyborian Age’s antediluvian precursor to ancient Egypt. Employed as a scout in Zarallo’s Free Companions, a multi-ethnic mercenary band hired by the Stygians to guard against Darfari raiders, Conan seems to spend as much time riding herd on drunk and idle sell-swords as dealing with foreign threats. The monotony of garrison life is shaken up, however, when he encounters a new addition to the band: Valeria. Formerly of the Red Brotherhood, the blonde and blue-eyed pirate’s beauty is matched only by her lethality. Conan is instantly smitten. Fiercely independent and all too accustomed to advances from her compatriots, Valeria is unimpressed. Conan isn’t the only one pursuing Valeria; while Conan is content to bide his time and prove his merits, an arrogant Stygian commander named Khafset proves himself less willing to take no for an answer. His fixation turns to murderous hatred, forcing Valeria and Conan to embark on a desperate journey across untamed lands, contending with threats both terrestrial and supernatural. Together and apart, Conan and Valeria carve a bloody swath across deserts and jungles, their footsteps dogged by the evil magic of the serpent-worshiping Stygian priesthood.

As a new Conan adventure, Conan – Blood of the Serpent is largely successful. Numerous authors have shown that Conan can be a deceptively tricky character to portray with any accuracy. Decades of inconsistency and, for lack of a better term, “flanderization” across various forms of media have led to a multitude of Conans that sometimes wildly diverge from his depiction in the original tales. Too often the result is a brutish, monosyllabic, meat-headed jock rather than the cunning, pantherish figure created by Howard. In Conan – Blood of the Serpent S. M. Stirling demonstrates a nuanced grasp of the character. His Conan is appropriately deadly in combat and takes the direct approach when need be, but he’s also just as likely to use clever strategy or stealth to deal with obstacles. In The Phoenix on the Sword, the very first Conan short story, Howard described the character as possessing “gigantic melancholies and gigantic mirth.” While so many depictions of Conan give us the former, grim-faced and dour, Stirling goes out on a limb a little and shows us some of that mirth, in a way we don’t often get to see. His Conan is downright jovial at times. Throughout the novel, Stirling displays a reassuring understanding of Conan’s character.

While Stirling delivers an entertaining Conan story, what he does NOT do is emulate Robert E. Howard’s style. I suspect this will be the most controversial aspect of the book for longtime Conan fans, as the most celebrated pastiche novels (i.e., the ones still talked about today, as opposed to lesser efforts) sought to pair an authentic-feeling Conan with prose that feels like something Howard would have written. And Stirling doesn’t do that, he simply declines. The book is written in a thoroughly modern style, and Stirling doesn’t go out of his way to pepper the text with Howard’s favorite expressions. Where Howard’s Conan tends to express his reflections and feelings through his actions and remarks, Stirling gives him the degree of interiority that contemporary readers are accustomed to, complete with italicized thoughts.

Not only is Conan – Blood of the Serpent a prequel to Howard’s Red Nails as advertised, I was surprised to discover that the final pages of the novel lead directly into the novella in question, with zero gap in the narrative. Titan Books wisely included Red Nails in this volume, and frankly the book would have felt incomplete otherwise. It’s a laudable move, as it allows newcomers to read a modern fantasy novel paired with one of the very best of the original Conan stories, but it also makes the contrasts between each writer’s style particularly stark. Both authors give the reader numerous scenes of intense combat against both man and beast (Stirling’s Conan slaughters a veritable zoo’s worth of African wildlife), but I was surprised to find it was Howard that went further in graphic detail when describing bloody swordplay. Also, perhaps inevitably due to the long-form novel format, Stirling struggles to maintain the propulsive, breakneck pacing seen in Howard’s short stories and novellas. Parts of Conan – Blood of the Serpent feel padded by comparison. The novel begins with not one but TWO tavern brawl scenes, whereas Howard would have cut to the literal chase and started his tale at the point in the narrative Stirling only reaches after a hundred pages. On the other hand, the extra space gives Stirling more breathing room for characterization. He has the space to directly show us aspects of Conan’s character (his mastery of wilderness survival, for example) that are generally mentioned in passing in Howard’s own work. Non-white characters are also given more dimension, while Howard tended to rely on the stock archetypes his pulp audience would have been familiar with.

Conan – Blood of the Serpent is blatantly a Conan novel written by S. M. Stirling, and not something that could be mistaken as a lost Howard tale. This is all die-hard Conan fans need to know. If Howard’s distinctive blood and thunder authorial style is a requirement for a prospective reader to enjoy a Conan story, this book may be skipped. But newcomers to Conan and existing fans who love the character and are open to other voices are encouraged to take a look. This volume delivers an engaging and approachable new adventure along with one of the very best of the classic stories. Regardless of whether or not future novel plots are directly connected to the events of the original stories, I would love to see Titan Books continue to package new stories with the classics.

Read Conan – Blood of the Serpent by S. M. Stirling

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Guest Post: How to Research by Anna Stephens

Anna Stephen’s latest novel, The Jaguar Path, is out now from Harper Voyager (read our review here), and we’re very excited to be sharing this exclusive article about her research for the series with Grimdark Magazine readers.

How to Research by Anna Stephens

One of the most freeing things for an author of speculative fiction is their ability to create entire worlds, societies and magic systems from scratch. They can build their own universe, as well as the characters who move through it, making up their own rules as they go. And yet, the amount of research into real world topics required to craft these unique locations can be enormous. Anna Stephens takes us through some of the topics they researched for the Songs of the Drowned trilogy, a world of monsters, magic, jungles and complex societies, to highlight the many and varied areas of knowledge needed to craft an epic fantasy trilogy about empire-building and the legacy of colonialism.

When I started thinking about the concepts and themes for the Songs of the Drowned trilogy, I knew I wanted to do something different and bigger compared with the Godblind trilogy. A totally different world, with a different environment for my characters to navigate and move within. But more than that, I wanted to explore bigger and more important themes. The Godblind trilogy was a sort of trial run in that I touched on ideas of conquest and enslavement, while in the Songs of the Drowned they are the central pillars of the narrative. This immediately presented me with three avenues of research, each of them daunting but vital: a place, with all its attendant flora, fauna, weather, geology, geography and how people lived and moved within it; colonialism, empire, conquest, politics and resistance; and enslavement, prejudice, and why and how people can come to believe it’s right that they “own” others. It was a big decision to tackle subjects with such a difficult and traumatic legacy for much of the world, so I needed to approach it with the right mindset and make sure that I researched, explored and learned as much as I could before I ever started writing. Some people research alongside writing, and I did that as well, but I gave myself about eight months of solid research on the above topics – and approximately eleventy billion other things – while making detailed notes on character and plot ideas first.

First of all, I did a few solid months on worldbuilding while I let ideas for the story itself bubble away in my subconscious. I’d chosen an environment purely based on a dream I had, though all I could remember of it was an image of bare feet standing in rich black soil surrounded by verdant greenery. This told me my environment was hot, possibly tropical, and rich in plant life. I was intrigued by why the person didn’t have shoes on – and they, of course, ended up being Xessa, the deaf eja who works with her service dog Ossa to kill the Drowned and bring water to the Sky City. Worldbuilding is something I really enjoy doing – I’ve even produced an online course about it – and I took a far more structured approach to creating the peninsula of Ixachipan than I ever did with Rilpor and its neighbours, which grew organically over the decade and a half from first draft to publication. That said, it didn’t originally begin as a peninsula. I wondered if it might be more land-locked than just having Barazal as a neighbour, and my editor at the time, Jack Renninson, suggested making it a peninsula for the very simple and compelling reason that I then didn’t have to worry about any other neighbouring lands and people. There are already enough within Ixachipan itself, after all. A good editor is worth their weight in gold and that was a brilliant suggestion. It also meant that, although Ixachipan itself is pretty big, there was a feeling of claustrophobia for the Tokob and Yaloh as the last free peoples outside the Empire of Songs. There was nowhere for them to go and no one left who would help them, which directly impacts the narrative.

Once I’d chosen a rainforest/limestone/hilly/monsoon-driven world, I decided to do a deep dive into Mesoamerican civilisation. I spent a good four months reading up on Mayan, Aztec and Nahua-speaking peoples. This covered all aspects of civilisation including architecture, agriculture, religion, travel, social systems, government and laws and punishment, diet, currency, clothing, and more. I wanted Ixachipan to have the look and feel of Mesoamerica without being directly lifted from a historic and still-living culture, so there were some things I researched so that I could be sure not to use them. The biggest element of Mayan culture I made sure to understand so I could exclude it was the religion. I didn’t want to take an existing religion and jam magic and monsters into it, because I didn’t know what harm that might do. Instead, I crafted a religion (or two) from scratch that worked with the environment and the seasons and gave primacy to the magic and the abilities/creatures/spirits that lived within or utilised that magic, and then adapted Mesoamerican culture to stitch it all together into something familiar but also its own unique thing. The sanctity of time and calendrical systems to the Maya was also something I wanted to nod towards without using their actual calendar(s), which is why I generally stuck with the idea of seven-day weeks and 30-ish-day months, whereas the Mayans had 18 months of 20 days (360 days) and then five ‘left over’ days that were tacked on to the end of their solar calendar. They also used a sacred calendar of 260 days, being 13 months of 20 days. And then, of course, they had the Long Count, one cycle of which came to an end on 21 December 2012 (hence the many doomsday prophecies and that terrible, terrible film that all became popular in the run up to that date). Like a fool, I decided to use the movements of Venus to show the passage of time and, let me tell
you, whether Venus is showing as the morning or the evening star or is absent from the sky means absolutely nothing when you’re trying to work out when the rainy season should begin. I spent more time than I care to remember doing fucking maths while writing this trilogy.

While all this was happening and I was making choices about measuring distance, the passage of time, what is used as currency, I was also developing the Empire of Songs and fleshing out the main arc of the story – conquest, glory, religious supremacy – and the peoples determined to maintain their autonomy. I wanted this to be more than just a trilogy of war books – the war is the backdrop against which the politics, crimes and atrocities play out and they need to play a larger part than the actual fighting.

This was the part I was most concerned about. Being respectful to the cultures inspiring my world was crucial; understanding colonialism, empire-building and notions of superiority based on blood and blood purity was likewise incredibly important. This was my third strand of research and I’m lucky enough to be friends with some very clever people and authors, and I asked them first for recommended reading. That gave me a broad basis to
work from, and from there I moved into much more specific territory: what post-colonialism could look like, the generational trauma of enslavement, how politics and religion and so-called science played their parts in white supremacy, racism, and ‘justifications’ for the enslavement of people. And, of course, the stories and history of enslavement itself.

There’s always more to learn, and with big themes like these, you can’t cut corners. But at the same time, there has to come a time where you stop the reading and start the writing. In my case, I didn’t quite stop the reading, so there were several times during the drafting of The Stone Knife where I had to make hasty notes for myself and then continue writing as if that snippet of information had been known from the start.

Lastly, in my case, I hired a sensitivity reader/cultural expert to ensure that my cultural appreciation hadn’t become appropriation. He was also an author of translated myths and histories of the Nahua-speaking peoples, and his book Feathered Serpent/Dark Heart of Sky is excellent and eye-opening at the same time.

The Songs of the Drowned was a big and intimidating project I’d set myself, and I regretted it immensely at times, but I’m so pleased I decided to push myself to write this trilogy. I’ve grown as a writer, both in craft and worldbuilding ability, and I’ve definitely learned more about world history
and the specific evils of imperialism.

My advice to anyone thinking they might not have the skills or knowledge to tackle a big story is: do it anyway. Give yourself the time to do the research and be as thorough as you possibly can be. There’s always more to learn and even if all of it doesn’t end up in the book, it forms a broader understanding for you as a person and helps you curate the choices you do make. With worldbuilding, you can start literally from the ground up – what is the earth like beneath your characters’ feet? This determines the richness and type of flora and fauna, which can affect the weather systems and how your characters live and thrive or merely survive. Landscape determines threats that may have nothing to do with other characters, and from there you layer up your knowledge of the environment to people, cultures, civilisations – all of which shape your narrative. Take the same approach to your themes. Build on your foundations and make sure you have solid, broad knowledge, and then get more specific afterwards. Specialise. Diversify. Fall down the rabbit holes and clamber back out. Ask for help, have difficult conversations with clever people – and pay them for it! – hire experts, and do your best.

As writers, we can only ever write to the level of our experience, knowledge, and imaginations. As long as we’ve done everything we can to understand the topic we’re writing about, and have done the research and utilised experts’ input where possible, then we can be confident that we’ve produced the most accurate, in-depth, realistic and respectful narrative we can for the writer we are at that time.

Read The Jaguar Path by Anna Stephens

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REVIEW: Obsidian: Awakening by Sienna Frost

Obsidian: Awakening is a grimdark fantasy inspired by the desert cultures of the Mongolian nomads and the Bedouins. As the first book in an intended series, it explores the world of two warring cultures and, at its heart, is a story about people who find resilience and love in the absence of hope and kindness.

One such person is Hasheem: a male escort-turned-assassin who becomes a fugitive after a woman is found dead in his room. Forced to flee the Salasar city of Rasharwi, he returns to his homeland of the White Desert, from which he was taken as a child. Here, he encounters Djari, the daughter of a powerful Shakshi tribe leader, who is prophesised to end the long and bloody war between the Shakshi people and the Salasar Empire–for better or worse.

Obsidian: Awakening is told through numerous point-of-view characters, from both sides of the conflict. This narrative choice works well: readers are unable to easily determine which characters are truly ‘good’, and it lays the groundwork for maximum emotional devastation when the two sides finally collide in later books. However, this narrative choice could have been even more effective if there were fewer POV characters—especially those belonging to side characters whom we meet once and then never again. A Dramatic Personae—and a map—would have also been helpful.

Nonetheless, the diversity and breadth of Sienna Frost’s characters is arguably the book’s greatest strength. Almost all the main characters in Obsidian: Awakening toe the line between duty and desire, and Djari’s oracle brother Nazir is a great example of this. He is repeatedly shown throughout the book to make tough decisions with devastating consequences—sometimes even at his own expense—to serve the greater good of his tribe.

Salar Muradi and his Shakshi wife Zahara are another highlight. Having been stolen from the White Desert and forced to marry Muradi, Zahara determinedly regards her husband with hatred. However, much to Muradi’s despair, this only makes her more desirable to him. Their complex relationship is utterly gripping to read, and their fraught, fractious exchanges are easily my favourite parts of the book. In fact, Muradi alone is such an interesting character. A charming and intelligent villain with all the world on his shoulders, I could read about his political machinations and dangerously ill-advised love for Zahara all day.

Unfortunately, main characters Hasheem and Djari are easily the weakest of the cast. I much prefer the politically charged, family drama segments in Rasharwi to the more action-based scenes in the White Desert. Considering much of the story revolves around Djari’s destiny and her relationship with Hasheem, this was a bit of problem for me. I found my interest waning during the middle of Obsidian: Awakening where the scenes in the desert become far more numerous, and there are very few POV changes away from Hasheem.

There are also several, completely unnecessary and distasteful instances of sexual assault. I know this is a grimdark book, but rape is a topic that needs to be handled sensitively, irrespective of the genre it is being written in. In Obsidian: Awakening, such scenes serve only to demonstrate the sheer villainy of a character, and the traumatic aftermath is never adequately explored.

Sienna Frost deploys a notably pretty writing style and has a lovely flair for vivid description. However, her delivery at times can be too lengthy or involved. Dialogue is often followed by an unnecessary internal monologue, or a chunky passage of clarifying prose. A similar
critique can also be applied to Frost’s worldbuilding: whilst she has clearly put a lot of thought, care and effort into crafting such a rich and believable world, information about that world is often delivered as large passages of exposition instead of being permitted to bleed
through the prose naturally. At times, this makes for slow and frustrating reading.

Overall, Obsidian: Awakening is a unique and well-realised grimdark fantasy. However, the lengthy prose and occasional insensitivity regarding heavier topics wore on me over time. If such things do not bother you, you will find much to love in this rich, character-driven book.

Read Obsidian: Awakening by Sienna Frost

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REVIEW: The Crane Husband by Kelly Barnhill

The Crane Husband is an unsettling folk horror by World Fantasy Award-winning author Kelly Barnhill. This expertly written novella provides a frank depiction of domestic violence within a contemporary reimagining of the traditional Japanese folktale, Tsuru Nyōbō, or the Crane Wife.

There are many variations on the Crane Wife tale within Japanese folklore. A common version of the story involves a poor man who rescues an injured crane, nursing it to health before releasing it back into the wild. Soon afterwards, a beautiful woman appears at his doorstep. They fall in love and get married, but the couple are desperately poor. The wife is a talented weaver, and they build a business selling her handwoven clothing at the market. The weavings bring the couple prosperity, but the wife insists that her husband never watch her weave. The husband soon becomes greedy, forcing his wife to weave more and more, unsympathetic to her declining health. Unsatisfied with her progress, he spies on his wife and discovers that she is actually a crane plucking out her own feathers to weave into the loom. The crane wife sees him and feels betrayed by his broken promise. She flies away, never to return, and leaves her husband behind unable to earn a living on his own. The Japanese folktale has inspired a number of modern authors and artists, including a popular musical version by Portland-based indie rock band, the Decemberists.

Kelly Barnhill’s novella is narrated by a fifteen-year-old girl living in an old farmhouse in the American Midwest. Her father passed away when she was a young girl, leaving her widowed mother to care for her and her younger brother.

The Crane Husband takes place in a near future when the farmers’ jobs have been displaced by drones that work the cornfields. The family survives on income from the mother’s artistic weavings. However, the responsibility of caring for her children proves too much to bear, leaving the teenaged narrator to manage household finances and serve as primary caregiver for her younger brother.

Then one day the mother brings home a menacing six-foot-tall crane, with whom she has fallen in love. The bespectacled crane soon becomes violent toward the mother, who is constantly covered with cuts and bruises. Despite this abuse, the mother is unwaveringly devoted to her crane husband. She neglects her family and the world around her to focus on weaving her masterpiece, as demanded by the crane. Meanwhile, local social workers have become seriously concerned regarding the welfare of both children.

Although at first glance The Crane Husband may seem like a simple gender-swapped version of the traditional Japanese folktale, Kelly Barnhill’s story plunges deeper into violence and horror. The Crane Husband takes an unflinching look at the horrors of domestic violence, including both physical and emotional abuse. The cycle of cruelty extends to the children, who live in fear of the crane husband but are also afraid of being taken away to foster care.

The Crane Husband is the darkest work by Kelly Barnhill to date, her prose burning with increasing intensity as she immerses us in an all too realistic world of domestic violence and artistic obsession.

4.5/5

READ THE CRANE HUSBAND BY KELLY BARNHILL

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REVIEW: A House with Good Bones by T. Kingfisher

Kingfisher combines Lovecraftian horror with a charming sense of humor in A House with Good Bones, her new Southern Gothic novel about unearthing long-lost family secrets.

Kingfisher has crafted an irresistibly delightful narrator in Samantha Montgomery, a thirty-two-year-old post-doctoral scholar in archaeoentomology, a field at the intersection of archaeology and entomology. As the novel opens, Sam has returned to her family home in North Carolina. The bad omens start immediately, as Sam is greeted by a vulture perched on their mailbox, keeping a close eye on the house.

Sam is alarmed at the sight of her mother, who has lost substantial weight and seems unusually anxious. The house itself feels strange, with its brightly colored walls now painted a dull white and old decorations from her late grandmother on display throughout the home. Sam is understandably worried about her mother, determined to uncover what is driving her strange behavior.

Sam is an absolute joy as narrator of A House with Good Bones. Her droll and somewhat garrulous sense of humor kept me chuckling on almost every page. I especially enjoyed Sam’s nerdy digressions on insects and other arthropods, which acted as a lighthearted balance to the dark family secrets that she eventually unearths. Sam’s humor also serves as an effective vehicle to provide biting commentary on racism and generational conflict in the Old South.

The problem with A House with Good Bones is that the main plot twist is painfully obvious from early in the book, although Sam herself is oblivious to the clues. Nevertheless, it is a treat to read Sam’s thoughts as she employs her scientific training to attempt rationalization of the irrational. Kingfisher is especially adept at presenting the mind of a scientist at work.

The horror aspects of A House with Good Bones kick into overdrive in the last fifth of the book, causing the narrative style to shift accordingly. The humor is largely missing during these final climactic scenes, replaced with enough gory detail to make any reader squirm. The final conflict is resolved too abruptly, especially given the long buildup in the first eighty percent of the novel. Ultimately the various plot threads are tied up a little too easily for my taste. Still, I greatly enjoyed the journey.

Notwithstanding its shortcomings in the final part of the book, A House with Good Bones is a charming and highly entertaining read. Although I was underwhelmed by its rather predictable horror aspects, Kingfisher kept me smiling throughout most of the novel.

4/5

Read A House With Good Bones

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An Interview With Fonda Lee

Fonda Lee is the World Fantasy Award-winning author of the Green Bone Saga, beginning with Jade City and continuing with Jade War and Jade Legacy. Her latest work, Untethered Sky, is a coming-of-age novella inspired by Middle Eastern folklore. Fonda is also a black belt martial artist and a former corporate strategist.

We recently had the pleasure of discussing with Fonda Lee about the Green Bone Saga, Untethered Sky, and her future plans.

[GdM] Five years after its publication, Jade City has been named as one of TIME magazine’s 100 Best Fantasy Books of All Time, a list that also includes such classics as Le Morte d’Arthur, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, and The Lord of the Rings. Congratulations! How does it feel to be included alongside such masterpieces? When you first wrote Jade City, did it feel like you had a future classic in your hands?

[FL] When I was writing Jade City, I had no idea if it would even be published, much less if it would be critically or commercially successful. It didn’t fit neatly into any fantasy sub-genre, nor were there any comparable titles, but it was a story that excited me and that I wanted to read. I told myself that even if it didn’t go anywhere, I would be proud to have written it. So seeing these books resonate with readers and find their audience has been incredibly meaningful.

[GdM] When you wrote Jade City, did you already have a plan for the main plot points of the trilogy, or did you find that the characters took the story in unexpected directions during Jade War and Jade Legacy?

[FL] I had some sense of where I wanted to take the story if I was given the opportunity to write more books, but I didn’t have any firm plans. Only when my publisher signed me for three volumes did I start to structure the arc of the trilogy. Some of the main plot points I knew very early on; others came to me unexpectedly while I was writing, because of the characters. From the start, however, I knew that at its heart, this was a family saga, and that overriding vision drove my narrative choices.

[GdM] Your background in martial arts has clearly helped you with writing convincing action scenes. But could you discuss how your experiences as a corporate strategist influenced your writing of the economic and political aspects of the Green Bone Saga, especially with respect to Shae’s role as Weather Man of the No Peak clan?

[FL] My business background influences how I view worldbuilding, and that invariably affects the story. A fantasy world doesn’t feel real to me if the economy isn’t well thought through. If magic exists in a fictional world, I consider the way it affects how that world functions and how people live their daily lives by following the principle of, “It’s the economy, stupid.”

Writers always put something of themselves and their experiences into each story and each character, so it was enjoyable for me to write a character like Kaul Shae, the Weather Man of No Peak, who isn’t just a great fighter, but who can propose trade embargos, negotiate business alliances, and set in motion long-running marketing campaigns to give her clan the edge.

[GdM] You are especially adept at drawing the reader into a story. Reading the Green Bone Saga feels like being an extra on the set of a movie, up close and personal with all the action and drama. Could you describe your approach to writing in this engaging style?

[FL] I’m a spare and direct writer. To me, ideal prose is lean and sharp and immersive, occasionally hitting hard with the perfect phrase or description but rarely drawing attention to itself. A lot of my creative inspiration comes from cinema so that no doubt influences my style. I want the story to visually unfold in the mind as effortlessly as possible.

[GdM] What inspired you to pursue a new direction with your delicate coming-of-age novella, Untethered Sky?

[FL] After the behemoth of a project that was the Green Bone Saga, I wanted and needed to write something different and to stretch different creative muscles. I’d never written a novella before, but I was excited by the idea of writing something short. I’d written an epic trilogy with a large cast of characters; this new project would be close and contained. Janloon is gritty, urban, and modern; my next story took me into ancient, wide open countryside. The Green Bone Saga is steely, bloody, and glamorous; Untethered Sky is raw, delicate and contemplative.

I was (and still am, to be honest) nervous about writing something so different from the Green Bone Saga, and worried that readers wouldn’t come along with me. But I believe it’s important, in the long run of an author’s career, at least for me personally, to explore the range of stories that interest you and push one’s storytelling craft in different directions.

[GdM] Untethered Sky incorporates mythical beasts from Persian and Arabian folklore. How did you first become interested in Middle Eastern mythology?

[FL] Actually, my interests started not with mythology but with falconry. When I was a child, I loved wildlife stories and animal companion stories like My Side of the Mountain, Julie of the Wolves, and Where the Red Fern Grows. Several years ago, I read a memoir called H is For Hawk by Helen Macdonald, about the author’s experience of training a goshawk, and I watched a fascinating, stirring documentary called The Eagle Huntress about Mongolian hunters who train golden eagles to hunt wolves. After WorldCon 2019, I went on a hawk walk in Ireland with a professional falconer. Of course, being a fantasy author, I started picturing a version of this ancient tradition involving gigantic monsters. Instead of hawks and rabbits, or even eagles and wolves, I imagined a coming-of-age wildlife memoir with rocs and man-eating manticores.

As it turns out, both rocs and manticores originate from Persian mythology. Falconry itself was birthed in the Middle East and Central Asia. It was only natural that I honor that source and create a world around my story that reflected where rocs and manticores would be found in their “natural habitat” and where “ruhking” would first develop. That led me to deep dive into researching pre-Islamic ancient Persia during the Achaemenid Empire of Cyrus the Great. What I learned inspired the kingdom I created, Dartha, and the culture and people found in it.

[GdM] The relationship between the ruhkers and rocs is beautifully written in Untethered Sky, capturing the love and respect that the human trainers have for these enormous predatory birds, as well as the inherent danger in this relationship. Could you describe how you developed the concept of the ruhker profession and how the challenges of being a ruhker reflect the real-world challenges of your readers?

[FL] I was trying to capture not only the relationship between trainer and bird, but to delve into the personal meaningfulness of the practice for someone wholly dedicated to a difficult, all-demanding, unpredictable calling. I researched falconry in depth, but more importantly, I also had the good fortune of having master falconers beta read the manuscript and tell me it rang true.

Untethered Sky is about monster hunting, but for me, it’s actually about writing. I put the obsessive drive, the emotional ups and downs of success and failure, the time and effort and sacrifice of a creative profession into Ester’s personal journey with her roc, Zahra. I hope and believe that anyone who’s ever felt a deep compulsion toward something they love to do—a hobby, an art, a sport—will find something emotionally authentic in Ester’s story.

[GdM] The worldbuilding feels so natural in both the Green Bone Saga and Untethered Sky. What is your approach for introducing the elements of worldbuilding in such a natural fashion, without any awkward info dumps?

[FL] Worldbuilding is one of my favorite parts of being a fantasy and science fiction writer. There are so many things I could say about it, but I think the one crucial personal guideline I employ is to make the world feel as real and lived-in as possible. It all comes down to the tangible details that surround the characters as they move about in their daily lives.

[GdM] How have you seen genres of science fiction and fantasy evolve over the course of your career as an author? What are thoughts on future direction of SFF?

[FL] My first novel released in 2015. Eight years isn’t all that long when it comes to to publishing timeframes, but it feels like a long time because the landscape has changed considerably, even since 2017, when Jade City came out. We’re now well past the point where fantasy is synonymous with medieval European tropes and milieus. There’s so much more variety in stories and voices, and also the lines between genres and subgenres are more porous. Authors are moving more easily than ever between traditional publishing and self-publishing, and speculative fiction as a whole has never been more culturally mainstream.

I believe all of that will continue, but we’re also in a challenging time to be a creative professional because it’s hard to stand out amid all the online noise and the sheer magnitude of entertainment available. It puts more pressure on writers be adaptable, connected, and savvy.

[GdM] You are an inspiration for many young writers. What advice do you have for young authors who are working on their first novel?

[FL] That’s very kind of you to say. My advice for new writers is always to focus on the craft and to write for themselves first and foremost. Write the story you most want to read that hasn’t been written yet. If it scratches your deepest itch, there are others out there who will want it, too.

[GdM] We are very excited about the announced TV adaptation of Jade City. Any news you can share about this new series?

[FL] Jade City was initially optioned by Peacock, but they decided last year not to go ahead with developing it. It’s now currently in the process of being optioned elsewhere; I can’t provide any further details until the ink is dry on the contract, but it’s exciting and I’ll share more once I can.

[GdM] What’s next for Fonda Lee after Untethered Sky? Any new directions you are planning to explore?

[FL] I have a Green Bone Saga short story collection, Jade Shards, coming out this summer. That’ll be my last foray into the Green Bone Saga world, at least for the foreseeable future. I just signed two new contracts to write four more books, so I’m going to be very busy for a while. One project is a collaboration with Shannon Lee, the daughter of Bruce Lee, on a young adult fantasy duology inspired by her father’s scripts, his life, and his philosophy. The other project is an adult science fiction duology that I can’t tell you about because it hasn’t been officially announced yet, but I’m very excited to get working on it and to share more about it soon.

 

Read Untethered Sky by Fonda Lee

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REVIEW: The Jaguar Path by Anna Stephens

The Jaguar Path is the much anticipated second instalment in Anna Stephens’ The Songs of the Drowned trilogy. Readers may also know Stephens’ from her Godblind trilogy or her writing for the Black Library or Marvel. I am not too fond of spoilers in reviews, and hard though it will be, I will keep my review of The Jaguar Path free of any information that might ruin Stephen’s fantastic plot, but if you have yet read the first in the series, The Stone Knife, I suggest you move away.

First off, this was a brilliantly written book. It has the same complexity and subtle nuances I hugely enjoy in Stephens’ other writing. The Jaguar Path also sticks with you. When I was not reading it, I was thinking about it, and now I have finished it, I want more. Reading The Jaguar Path was an immersive and thought-provoking experience. At the end of this, Stephens is firmly on my automatic read list.

This novel is very character-driven, and we have many returning points of view from the first novel. However, The Jaguar Path picks up two traumatic years down the line from the end of The Stone Knife, so for all the characters and this world should be familiar, it is actually a very alien setting. All of the events of The Jaguar Path take place in the Singing City, the heart of the Empire of Songs, and this new sole setting feels as claustrophobic to us as it must do to the characters. Xessa is alone in a slave fighting pit, Lilla is a slave conscript in the Melody army, and Tayan is a slave to the Singer in the Source itself.

One of my favourite parts of Stephen’s writing, and The Jaguar Path is no exception, is the complexity of her characters. It is not as straightforward or reductive as good guys versus bad guys. Everyone in this novel is morally grey. Every character, at numerous points, does something unexpected and unpredictable. But this is not a case of nonsensical plot twists thrown around willy-nilly to throw the reader off; Stephens slowly revealed this masterful plot piece by piece. It is an exceedingly well-written dark fantasy with layers of politicking and betrayal. There is slightly less actual gore and violence than in The Stone Knife, but not by much, and when it is used, it is heartbreakingly effective.

I must admit, though, I personally prefer a faster-paced novel. I had the same struggle with the first book in this series, where the slow build-up (although very interesting) made me feel like I needed to make more progress with the plot. However, having had a few days
reading The Jaguar Path, where I had more time to sit and read, rather than a chapter here and there, that is more a reflection on how much time I have rather than a criticism of the writing. The writing is fantastic and deserves more of my time than I can usually give in one go. Also, the build-up is absolutely worth it because, as well as gifting us many engaging and well-formed points of view, the final third of the novel and the denouement of The Jaguar Path are spectacular. I am utterly bereft at that ending.

Everything is set up for the trilogy’s final, and probably heart-breaking, conclusion. The wait will be a torturous couple of years, but I will be grabbing hold of it as soon as I can. I want to massively thank Anna Stephens and the team at Harper Voyager for sending me a copy to provide this review for Grimdark Magazine.

5/5

Read The Jaguar Path by Anna Stephens

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