Gandalf Ex Machina

So, I'm reading Conqueror's Shadow by Ari Marmell (recently picked-up Pyr author, too!) and I've got to say, I enjoy the heck out of it.  The concept is nice (ex-scourge of civilization warlord is forced to do right after his treacherous lieutenants take over his previously wicked ways) and the execution is way better (Marmell's got that oft-underappreciated and too-rare talent of having some actual vigor in his writing).  In general, it's a really cool take on a classic trope that I think a lot of people should read.

But I'm not here to sing the praises of Marmell's work.  In fact, I'm not going to discuss the book at all beyond an occurrence early in its pages that rankled me and inspired this blog post (sorry, Ari!)

Potential Spoiler Begins.

At one point, Corvis Rebaine, the protagonist, is attempting to interrogate some people who made an attempt against him.  He handily dispatches them with a shovel in a really bad-ass scene, but when it comes time to extract information from him, he casts a spell that momentarily makes him look like the skull-plated, spiky warlord he was back in the day to intimidate the fellow.

Potential Spoiler Ends.

And that's about the time I was jarred from the story.  Personally, I didn't think it was really necessary to do such a thing other than just to have something magical happen because, hey, it's a fantasy story and it needs magic, doesn't it?  Well, not necessarily.  I didn't see much of a reason why a guy would use that kind of spell when he has just shattered a man's pelvis with a shovel.

Now, I've not finished the book yet and it hasn't diminished my opinion, so maybe everything gets a little better.  But that's not the point.

My beef was with the choice, not the magic itself.  Which leads me to the actual subject of magic in fantasy: is it a handicap or a boon?

It was briefly discussed on Speculative Horizons awhile back, with the general theory being posed by George R.R. Martin's quote that magic often dilutes a story, diminishing impact and characterization.  This is a complaint that has been echoed by a lot of people when it comes to "high magic" settings (we fly on talking storks who take us to forests where grenades grow on trees and armadillos spew fire) versus "low magic" settings (we solve 90% of our problems with swords and the other 10% with swearing and sex).

They're not entirely wrong, but I think the issue is a little deeper than can be accurately blamed on a trope.

Magic, ideally, is something of a big deal.  The ability to affect reality in more tangible ways than we're used to is a cornerstone of fantasy.  As a result, you'll still see books where a subject of praise is the magic system (Spellwright, The Way of Kings, The Black Prism).  What we're really praising when we praise it, though, is the ability to turn magic into a part of the world, as opposed to something we just throw out because "it's fantasy, lol."

And if magic is indeed a big deal, it should ideally provide more impact, more depth, more character.  Sadly, there's no shortage of fantasy that does the exact opposite.

It's fairly easy for magic to dilute the story, since magic can be fairly easy in general.  The Great Darkness can be averted with a magical relic designed specifically to destroy it.  The great warrior can be a muscle-bound jerk and a world-class magician, thus making it very hard to feel sympathy for him (because if he can swing a giant sword, hurl fire and get the girl, does he really need us?)  It can be really hard to establish mood and tone if there are no certainties owing to the ability to do anything.

And certainty is what it all comes down to: what does magic do and for what reason?  It's a character, a part of the world, and like any other character, it needs to be defined.

What are the limitations?  Where does it come from?  Why is it channeled by magic words?  What does the eye of newt do, specifically, in the potion?  Why does a wizard have a spellbook?  Why doesn't he just keep some condensed notes around?

That's not to say that magic needs to be outlined, regulated and have its own attorney, though.  It can be a mystical, nebulous thing that doesn't abide by any rules, logic or any such thing.  But that, too, needs to be certain.  If we are certain that magic is an ancient force beyond our reckoning, then it will jar us if Abercrombie the Swineherd can command the plants to speak.  If we're certain that magic is prevalent enough that Abercrombie the Swineherd can command the plants to speak, then it will jar us if people don't solve most of their problems by magic.

Magic is a complicated thing, plot-wise, and above all, it requires a firm choice.  I can see why a lot of people choose to abandon it in their books, it can easily lead to something overly-complex and confusing.  If magic can do A and B, but not C, what happens when we need C?  Ideally, that conflict is what draws the reader in.  But too often, in their search for C, the author will decide that magic suddenly can do C, but just this once and no, they won't tell you why.

And then we're not writing a story anymore, we're just shoehorning things in for the sake of moving things along.  And at that point, the reader, too, is merely moving along, going through the motions instead of actually getting involved in the story.  The tension is gone and the impact is gone.

When we praise good magic systems, we're praising the fact that they are part of the plot, not shoehorned in.  When we praise stories that are low magic, we're praising the characters and plot that work without it.  As ever, it comes down to my favorite thing ever said by Scott Lynch that was not "do you want ten dollars, Sam": "There is no such thing as a bad cliche, only a bad way to use them."