The Last Light of the Sun, by Guy Gavriel Kay
A faux-historical novel involving Vikings and Anglo-Saxons under different names in a world with two moons... but seriously, it’s Anglo-Saxons and Vikings. There are blood eagles and King Alfred the Great burning the cakes, only they all have different names so I kept having to stop and try to figure out who the real-world analogues of the Karchites were (still no idea on that one.)
If you’ve read Kay’s novels in the same world, like The Lions of al-Rassan or Sailing to Sarantium, you’ll have a good idea of this and whether you’ll like it or not: a chessboard-like style of plotting where a great many scattered characters all turn out to have a role to play in some climactic action, lots of atmosphere, action set-pieces, coincidence/fate, and an operatic level of drama.
The oppression of women in this book really oppressive to read about. Almost every female character was living under conditions of total or near-total powerlessness, and they’re generally very conscious of and miserable about it. Though some managed to wrest some agency or happiness out anyway, and that aspect was well-done, it was still depressing. The one that got to me the most was the woman who identified with the male warrior society, was clearly suited to it, and had even managed to learn to fight well. Too bad, a ten-year-old farmer boy is going to be pressed into battle with a scythe he can barely lift, while she gets sent off for a political marriage to a thirteen-year-old boy.
There’s a very striking moment in which a woman does something incredibly brave that has no effect on the plot - she’s trying to do something very important which, unbeknownst to her, someone else has already done. On the one hand, it’s a beautiful riff on one of my favorite themes, which is that our actions are meaningful regardless of their impact on the bigger picture. On the other hand, it really summed up the status of women in that world: they live in a society where 99 times out of 100, even their most extraordinary efforts will change nothing.
That being said, the book was an absorbing read, with a lot of great storytelling in “how will he get out of this fix?” mode and some very otherworldly-feeling depictions of faeries and other supernatural beings.
The other thing I liked a lot was that the characters are all living at a time of immense change, and many of them are wrestling with that. There’s a conversation at one point between an Anglo-Saxon and a Welsh character who’ve seen the ruins of Rome, and know that hundreds of years ago, people had a level of comfort and art and peace that they’re not even close to achieving now, and how they’re trying anyway. The themes of life on the cusp of change, fighting for things that won’t be possible within your lifetime if at all, and that it’s important to try even without knowing if you’ll ever win, felt very timely.
The Last Light of the Sun[image error]
[image error] [image error]
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If you’ve read Kay’s novels in the same world, like The Lions of al-Rassan or Sailing to Sarantium, you’ll have a good idea of this and whether you’ll like it or not: a chessboard-like style of plotting where a great many scattered characters all turn out to have a role to play in some climactic action, lots of atmosphere, action set-pieces, coincidence/fate, and an operatic level of drama.
The oppression of women in this book really oppressive to read about. Almost every female character was living under conditions of total or near-total powerlessness, and they’re generally very conscious of and miserable about it. Though some managed to wrest some agency or happiness out anyway, and that aspect was well-done, it was still depressing. The one that got to me the most was the woman who identified with the male warrior society, was clearly suited to it, and had even managed to learn to fight well. Too bad, a ten-year-old farmer boy is going to be pressed into battle with a scythe he can barely lift, while she gets sent off for a political marriage to a thirteen-year-old boy.
There’s a very striking moment in which a woman does something incredibly brave that has no effect on the plot - she’s trying to do something very important which, unbeknownst to her, someone else has already done. On the one hand, it’s a beautiful riff on one of my favorite themes, which is that our actions are meaningful regardless of their impact on the bigger picture. On the other hand, it really summed up the status of women in that world: they live in a society where 99 times out of 100, even their most extraordinary efforts will change nothing.
That being said, the book was an absorbing read, with a lot of great storytelling in “how will he get out of this fix?” mode and some very otherworldly-feeling depictions of faeries and other supernatural beings.
The other thing I liked a lot was that the characters are all living at a time of immense change, and many of them are wrestling with that. There’s a conversation at one point between an Anglo-Saxon and a Welsh character who’ve seen the ruins of Rome, and know that hundreds of years ago, people had a level of comfort and art and peace that they’re not even close to achieving now, and how they’re trying anyway. The themes of life on the cusp of change, fighting for things that won’t be possible within your lifetime if at all, and that it’s important to try even without knowing if you’ll ever win, felt very timely.
The Last Light of the Sun[image error]
[image error] [image error]
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