Why have I never read anything by Matthew Hughes before reading Majestrum: A Tale of Henghis Hapthorn? Did I land in the middle of a series? Are all of his books as clever as this one? I don’t know the answer. Majestrum is the most entertaining split-brain tale I’ve read since Robert Don Hughes’ (no relation) two-headed dragon, Vicia-Heinox in The Prophet of Lamath. In this case, instead of portraying a two-headed antagonist who could speak aloud, the story presents a right-brain/left-brain protagonist who debates internally within himself. The author is aware that the hemispherical dominance of the brain is not purely affective versus cognitive, but the characters representing these domains (still the same protagonist) do act as inclusively intuitive versus linearly rational even when their internal dialogue demonstrates a blurring, shifting within them.
Henghis Hapthorn is a discriminator, apparently his universe’s equivalent to a consulting detective. Rather than having an amanuensis named Dr. Watson as his foil, he has an integrator (what was originally a digital personal assistant which has “magically” taken a life of its own) to do his dirty work and prod him from time-to-time as well as his inner self, the living affective domain which seems to have come to life in his personality at the same time as his integrator came to life. The inner dialogue assumes rather a coarse harshness at first, though his affective self does dispense a wise aphorism that “a man who is afraid of himself needs no enemies.” (p. 99) As the book continues, the motivation for this rivalry is revealed and proves uniquely important to the plot.
To be honest, I don’t know whether to label this novel as science-fiction, science-fantasy, or merely fantasy. There are elements of all three. To solve the mystery of an obscure convocation which seems to be somewhat related to a plot against the archon, Henghis must travel across several star systems using “whimsies” as some science-fiction stories use wormholes. We discover that the civilization he knows is largely derived from the First Efflocation, a human diaspora from Earth (p. 148), but the Old Earth has been resettled as a fashionable regentrification project (p. 149) . It turns out the universe slowly cycles between mechanical/chemical dominance and magical dominance and Henghis must figure out what is prematurely driving the universe toward the magical dominance that he fears will minimize his life.
Hence, one also encounters an awareness of (but not, at least yet, a dominance of) magical powers. Hughes has enabled this magical reality with marvelous spell names that would make Arneson and Gygax envious: Albernoth’s Nagging Itch (p. 132), Sringitan’s Subtle Compulsion (p. 132), Ramaran’s Progressive Rescindment (p. 134), Loang’s Impenetrable Box (p. 154), Brumaire’s Physiognomiical Torrent (p. 156), or Sengovan’s Fortifier of the Spirit (p. 188), for example. Of course, the threat of magical dominance being premature, one would likely (along with rational Henghis) wonder about the value and validity of such spells.
Naturally, this tension between logic and thaumaturgic provides a fascinating and cleverly written story. This is not television-style or action-movie fodder science-fiction. Majestrum: A Tale of Henghis Hapthorn is a fascinating, thought-provoking, meandering, and amazing story. Though I usually enjoy stories with more overt conflict in them than Hughes provides here, I’ve never read a book quite like this one. It impinged on my dreams. It haunted my thoughts. And it provoked my imagination! How could I deduct anything from the highest rating?