An Intricate World To Sink Into: The Garden of Stones by Mark T. Barnes
Representation: Cast of colour, bi/pansexual love interest
Genres: Fantasy, High Fantasy
ISBN: 1611098939
Goodreads
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An uneasy peace has existed since the fall of the Awakened Empire centuries ago. Now the hybrid Avān share the land with the people they once conquered: the star-born humans; the spectral, undead Nomads; and what remains of the Elemental Masters.
With the Empress-in-Shadows an estranged ghost, it is the ancient dynasties of the Great Houses and the Hundred Families that rule. But now civil war threatens to draw all of Shrīan into a vicious struggle sparked by one man’s lust for power, and his drive to cheat death.
Visions have foretold that Corajidin, dying ruler of House Erebus, will not only survive, but rise to rule his people. The wily nobleman seeks to make his destiny certain—by plundering the ruins of his civilization’s past for the arcane science needed to ensure his survival, and by mercilessly eliminating his rivals. But mercenary warrior-mage Indris, scion of the rival House Näsarat, stands most powerfully in the usurper’s bloody path. For it is Indris who reluctantly accepts the task of finding a missing man, the only one able to steer the teetering nation towards peace.
~dragon eyes!
~sky-ships!
~quills-for-hair is my new favourite look
~would you want all the memories of all your ancestors in your head???
~everything is crystal and everything is beautiful
~if nothing else, read it for the gorgeous Aesthetic
Everyone who’s already read this book will probably think I’ve lost the plot (see what I did there?) for saying this, but: I found Garden of Stones such a wonderfully easy book to sink into. I found it easy, full stop, at a time when I was struggling to focus, unable to concentrate enough to read anything – I thought.
But Garden of Stones welcomed me in, and I could disappear into it no matter how frazzled or static-brained I felt.
I am not at all sure anyone else on the planet will feel the same: Barnes has gone in hard on the worldbuilding, with dozens and dozens of fantasy terms and titles to keep straight; an extremely convoluted set of relationships and dynamics between different families, species, political parties, and various other movers-and-shakers; and millennia of history that predates the story but is still very relevant to it. There are lots of Capital Letters. On top of that, the prose is very heavy on the description; not purple, but going right down to describing the smallest detail at thorough length – and there’s no getting around the fact that Barnes does a lot of info-dumping/lecturing, mostly with regards the worldbuilding.
Honestly, I got the vibe that Barnes is more in love with the world he’s created than the story – which is not something I have a problem with. Especially not when so much of that world is beautiful the way I reflexively imagine Fantasy to be beautiful: spiralling crystal towers, sky-ships, elaborate clothing in sumptuous fabrics, glowing eyes, soaring architecture…the list goes on. Garden of Stones immediately feels like Fantasy in a way I haven’t encountered in a long time; everything about the aesthetic of the book howls magic and wonder and strangeness. And I was very, very happy to let that just…wash over me. It was deliciously easy to get lost in. It was soothing, somehow, even though nothing about the events of the story should have been relaxing.
Indris is very much the main character – even though he really doesn’t want to be. He’s an excellent swordsman and was trained in what we would call magic by the Seq – a prestigious, powerful, secretive order of scholar-mages who are feared and respected in equal measure. But Indris left the Seq years ago, forming a troupe of not-quite-mercenaries, a band of adventurers all wildly different from one another but who consider themselves family. Which is great, because Indris’ wife is long since lost, presumed dead by all, and Indris’ father-in-law is…way too naive for his own good.
That’s where the book opens: with Indris and Shar, one of his adventurer-companions, standing with Indris’ father-in-law on the field of battle. Which is not supposed to be a battle: the rules of war say this conflict is meant to be decided by single combat. Indris’ father-in-law trusts in the system.
The system breaks. Mostly because Corajidin, a royal-caste politician and head of one of the great Houses, smashed it with a hammer; he’s dying, and has no intention of doing so. And Indris’ father-in-law – as well as several other less naive, very good men – are in his way.
Imagine politics, if most of the major players had the memories of hundreds of their ancestors and could remember grievances from generations ago like they were yesterday. And if those players were divided between wanting to remake the old empire, and those who want to focus on what lies within their borders, not outside it. Now throw in death-trap swamps that house the immensely powerful artifacts of species that have gone before, artifacts it is completely illegal to go anywhere near. Top it off with an Imperialist who believes his rise to Emperor has been foretold – even when his own witches all but beg him to stop obsessing over prophecies and focus on making the future he wants, instead of just assuming it will come.
With a description like that, it would be easy to mistake Corajidin for a two-dimensional villain, but he’s not. I mean, he is a villain, don’t get me wrong – but he’s also living in constant agony and is desperate for a cure; he genuinely (because he’s a terrible bigot) believes empire and a separation from other species is what’s best for his nation; he loves his children; he adores his wife. We hate him before we even meet him – because we see his forces at work very early on, and it’s horrific – but over the course of Garden of Stones, the reader watches him spiral into a darker and darker place, backing himself into a worse and worse corner, turning away from every chance to put things right or do better that he’s offered. It’s not the best depiction of that self-destructive spiral that I’ve seen, but it’s something that lingers with me after I turned the final page.
Whereas Indris… Indris is pure wish-fulfilment: he’s a genius at literally everything, to the point that it eventually stopped being fun wish-fulfilment – nothing wrong with a Mary Sue/Gary Stu if you keep it interesting and give me plenty to like! – and started being eye-rolling. I think it grated especially because Barnes has fallen into the trap of so many fantasy authors: despite writing an apparently gender-equal society, the cast is almost wholly male, and a sprinkling of powerful women aren’t so effective at mitigating that when they’re all tripping over themselves to say how much better Indris is at whatever their special skill is.
Which is a shame, because otherwise Indris is pretty interesting – I definitely want to know more about his adventures pre-Garden – and it’s hard not to sympathise with a decent person trying to do the right thing, while also trying to avoid being sucked into the machinations (political and otherwise) of everyone around them. I could have accepted him as the lead just fine – even as being more powerful than anyone else – if the book wasn’t so…in-your-face about it. Like, did we really need one of the founding members of the Seq order, Indris’ teacher, to declare that Indris is to her as she is to her usual students? No, no we did not. Tone it down, please, gods.
Aside from Indris and Corajidin, the other main POV character is Mari, Corajidin’s only daughter and an immensely skilled warrior-poet. Her arc is probably the most complicated, as she’s pulled between her love for her father and family (as well as not wanting her dad to die!) and what she knows is right. It’s a messy storyline, and by that I mean it was probably the most human; Mari was the character who felt the most like a real person, with her mistakes and her conflicted values and loves. I’m not in love with the romance she gets, and I would have liked more than a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it reference to her being bisexual, but she was my favourite of the main cast, easily.
While I thought Barnes was pretty good at creating characters, one area I can’t defend is the dialogue. The dialogue is terrible. There is so much exposition-through-dialogue, with characters lecturing each other on things they all already know just to clue the reader in, and it was like Barnes couldn’t figure out the…the rhythm of how these people – most of whom come from the same species, the same caste, the same country – talk. Rhythm isn’t the right word, but I don’t know what is. But so much lecturing, and going over and over the same arguments and talking-points, and, gah.
All of you stop talking!!!
…Except that, I found I didn’t mind that much. Usually flaws like this make me DNF a book; in Garden of Stones, it was oddly easy to just…skim over them. Not mind them. They didn’t itch at me the way these kinds of things usually do. As I’ve said, I found the entire book…peaceful. Soothing. The only book I could focus on, the only thing I could concentrate on properly, for the better part of two weeks. That’s not nothing. That’s pretty huge, actually. Sword fights and magical duels and monsters and politics and betrayal and murder and everything else you can think of…and it was nice. It was easy.
I keep saying that because I can’t emphasise it enough. And because I’m grateful for it. Whatever Garden of Stones‘ flaws, I am very, very grateful it exists, and that it was there to be solace when I needed it.
Would I recommend it to anyone else? Well…maybe only if you love worldbuilding more than you love characters. But if you do? You’ll love this!
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