“Imagine you had a prophecy you’re the advent of the Promised One, the Right Guide and the Champion of Light. You’d believe that, right? And if you didn’t, you’d love to meet people who do.”
Temujin has an awkward time with the prophecy about him and he’s happy to remain unknown. However, war and politics rudely intrude.
Toqtoa, a shaman and a king from the Great North Forest, has watched the Mongols sink into squalor and he takes his opportunity to step onto the grass highway. “History doesn’t happen in the forest. It happens on the steppe.” This king with his spirits has history in his sights, while Temujin thinks of nothing but his stolen wife Borte.
Is history run by fate and royal spirits? By history-makers like Toqtoa, or by accident? Borte, in captivity, cannot see her half-child husband a rival to this warlock king. Nor wishes to.
Bryn Hammond lives in a coastal town in Australia, where she likes to write while walking in the sea. She grew up on ancient and medieval epics, the Arthur cycle original and modern, nineteenth-century novelists, particularly Russian and French, and out-of-fashion poets, namely Algernon Swinburne.
Always a writer – to the neglect of other paths in life that might have been more sensible – she found the perfect story in The Secret History of the Mongols, a thirteenth-century prose and verse account of Chinggis Khan. Her Amgalant series is a version and interpretation of this original. Voices from the Twelfth-Century Steppe is her craft essay, a case study of creative engagement with a primary source.
Other work in The Knot Wound Round Your Finger (Bell Press), Ergot., Queer Weird West Tales (LIBRAtiger), New Edge Sword & Sorcery Magazine.
As I read this next book in the series of the life of Genghis Khan, I forced myself to not make the same mistakes that I did when I read Of Battles Past. I didn’t stop periodically to read historical accounts to better understand the unfamiliar places and references. Even though that had certainly helped me keep track of all the various tribes and relationships when reading the first book, it was ultimately a spoiler. This time around, I tried to live with the ambiguity, and I did ok. I might have done better if I hadn’t left such a long gap in between reading the two, or if I’d used the glossary and name guide at the end of this book. I’ll certainly do the latter when going on to the next book, and will try not to let so much time slip away before I start it.
Just as I experienced in Of Battles Past, I came away from this one struck by how what began with individuals dealing with issues between and among their tribes and clans on the steppes – and the pressures they faced when dealing with countries surrounding them – came to have such a profound impact on a very large part of the world. And yet, this effect is still very little appreciated or understood even today in my corner of the world. I am more attuned now to noting how Genghis Khan is portrayed as a character in movies and other media. The dim-witted barbarian stereotype bears little resemblance to the introspective and complex Temujin of Bryn Hammond's books. Because I’ve been following her reviews of historical works and her very in-depth essays and blog, I’m inclined to give credit to her representation. Perhaps he’ll grow more into his reputation as I read further into the series. The first book centered around his parents before he was born, and ended when Temujin was a young teen. "When I am King" takes us into his early adulthood, but not much further.
There is always a difficulty in getting across a real sense of people and their relationships to an audience who are far removed in place and time. This is particularly true in how day-to-day conversation is rendered. The spoken words – even in the face of crisis, conflict, and severe deprivation – are meant to sound like ordinary people of their time and place, and not the speeches of emperors or seasoned generals of vast armies. Not yet anyway. So there is a challenge in the reading and (I imagine) the writing to stay connected to the setting in a way that seems authentic without a sense of it being so exotic as to be distracting, or likewise having an imposed modern rendering that quickly sounds anachronistic even for contemporary audiences. (That would be equally distracting.)
In the past month, I saw productions of “Uncle Vanya” and “Romeo and Juliet” and in both, the theatre decided to depart from the “traditional” American theatrical way of handling dialects and speech patterns in plays written at a different place and time. In Uncle Vanya, other than retaining the title, the script was adapted to substitute common English names, nicknames, and colloquialisms to offer a better sense of how the original might have come across to Russian audiences. In retrospect, this makes more sense than American actors trying to sport Russian accents; Russians wouldn’t sound foreign to each other so it doesn’t help the setting for them to sound foreign to the audience. While it took a few minutes into the play for me to realize that Uncle Johnny was Uncle Vanya, it did give me a better sense of the stifling relationship dynamics than I’d previously gotten when I’d read the translation years ago. For “Romeo and Juliet” the theatre deliberately had all actors use local accents rather than try to mimic British ones, which is generally what I’ve experienced when viewing Shakespeare productions. The playbill pointed out that English pronunciation and speech patterns in Shakespeare’s time were likely as different from modern English accents as those are from American ones. And just as in the Uncle Vanya production, none of the characters in Romeo and Juliet were meant to sound exotic and foreign to each other, nor would they have been to the audiences of the time (the setting in Verona not withstanding).
And so, the argument can be made as well for Hammond’s treatment of casual speech in this series of books. Nevertheless, some of the dialog was as jarring for me as was hearing "Uncle Johnny!" being shouted in a play by Chekhov. I eventually got used to it, and I understood the rationale. Even so, there were still a few phrases like an idea “going out the window” that made me stop and wonder if their tents / yurts had windows. (I learned later that yes, they did. It was what they called the smoke vents at the top.)
I assume that the next books will be covering the time period when Temujin becomes more of the "Genghis" of infamy and may perhaps earn his reputation as a bloodthirsty mass murderer. If so, I’m in no hurry to enter that stage of his history yet. But I will trust the carefully researched, and often lyrically beautiful, writing of Bryn Hammond and work my way to it. And this time, I won’t wait so long between books.
This book is about Mongol leader,, Genghis Khan, who lived in the 12th and 13th centuries. The author wrote about his life from the time he was 17until he was 23. The ebook was over 16oo pages, but it was interesting through out. In this time period, Genghis married Borte. She was captured by a rival tribe and had to be rescued. In this rescue, Genghis brought the tribes together which was the forerunner of a nation.
The author used silly-nilly, Hippie- like language which did not help the read. Still, the author's sense of what was happening never failed her or me. One sense that was important to me was after the war is won, how do the victors fill the inevitable void? Remember that Genghis brought the tribes together to make war. The diffent tribes got their spoils and thought of ways to fill the 'What do I do next?' question. To me, the mark of leadership is the person who can answer that question and transition the tribes into a common goal. It may be more war or conflict among the tribes. That is simply an observation I made. But what do I know about war?
The rise of Temujin to Khan includes lots of lessons for him. Many of them depicted in dialogue seem more about today's tensions than necessarily about those of the rising Mongols. That said, it's a good read.