Majordomo by Tim Carter is an obvious crowd-pleaser. From the first page, character and authorial voice are clear and immediate, and the humour of this D&D-inspired comedy is thoughtful yet unpretentious. Using familiar set pieces and archetypes that readers may recognize from tabletop gaming (but also its descendants: Dragonlance, Forgotten Realms, and Critical Roll to name but a few), Carter takes us on a joyride that layers humour and heart with elements of real-world tragedy that will be familiar and validating to many readers.
Refreshingly, the protagonist of Majordomo isn't the chisel-chinned paladin, brooding dark elf, or the plain (yet somehow conventionally gorgeous) adventurer of much heroic fantasy, but a disabled kobold named Jack whose surrogate father just happens to be a world-famous necromancer that half the kingdom wants to see dead (and the entire kingdom wants to rob). As a child, and true to kobold tradition, Jack's biological father tried to drown him in a sack after recognizing that Jack's disability means he won't be able to embody the fleetness of foot most valued in kobold society. For Jack, Nepherous the necromancer's kindness stands in striking contrast to this childhood abuse, and Jack would do anything to protect his found family. Jack's main duties as master of the house for Nepherous are managing the ragtag staff of mercenaries and spider-demon-worshipping sorcerers employed by the castle, and ensuring that no would-be hero makes it out of the hideout unmaimed (leaving one party member alive allows the tale to be told, after all). Unfortunately, when Jack's kindness inspires him to rescue a halfling from the booby traps littering the halls, the halfling sees her knowledge of the traps as an opportunity for exploitation instead of a lucky escape. Betraying Jack, the halfling spreads word of treasures ripe for the thieving, and traps she can now help the right band of heroes to overcome.
Before reading Majordomo, I'd seen a lot of praise heaped its way and did my best to avoid spoilers so as not to influence my own experience. That said, it's nearly impossible not to let the hype around a work impact your enjoyment of (whether positively, because you want to be part of the community singing its praises, or negatively because your expectations can't possibly be met). I tend to fall into the latter camp more often than not, and so was very pleased when Majordomo met the expectations I had for a good story well told. Humour in particular is such a personal thing--what one reader finds hilarious can easily be obnoxious or cloying to another--but Majordomo worked perfectly for me, in part because it's clear throughout how earnestly Carter threw himself into Jack as a character.
Amongst the many strengths of Majordomo is its consistent voice and sense of style. It would be easy to call Jack cynical, yet his acerbic tone and dark (yet accurate) observations of the world he lives in are accompanied by genuine kindness and a sense of hope for a better future for himself and those he loves. There was a little of the protagonist of K. J. Parker's Sixteen Ways to Defend a Walled City to the narration, which featured the same happy marriage of wit and gravity. This depiction of a person on the margins who finds himself struggling to squeeze himself into the molds others construct for him feels real and personal. Jack's humour is more than a means to sell the story to readers, it rings true as Jack's internal means of interfacing with a world that wishes he wasn't in it--something I'm sure many readers will relate with, whether because they're part of a marginalized group themselves, or because at some point they felt Othered or bullied in some way (and really, isn't that most of us?).
The themes at the centre of Majordomo could easily feel tired and trite. Many genres, including fantasy (with rising prominence in the 1990s), have been used to promote the positive message that you can't judge a book by its cover and that sometimes those we may consider outwardly beautiful disguise a malice far worse than any we project onto the less conventionally attractive. Due to the layering of the text, however, and Carter's realization of Jack as a full person within the context of the narrative, that message never felt simplistic, nor did the story feel as though it could be reduced to an inspirational wall decal. Crucially, the book never asks us to pity Jack, rather, but instead to empathize with and relate to him.
Although I loved Jack's narration throughout, and although the opening was strong, the real hook for me came almost midway through the novella, when we learn a key piece of information about one of the characters that substantially deepens and enriches the story. I'd love to discuss that in more depth--and perhaps will if I ever have the opportunity to discuss it with the author or in a spoiler-friendly context--but given that Carter positioned it where he did in the novella, my assumption is that it's something he wanted to reveal at a specific moment. That said, I did feel that the novella could have been slightly tighter in the first half, and drawing the revelation closer to the start would have hooked me that much deeper, much earlier. The moments in the novella related to this specific plot point are by far the strongest, most compelling elements of the story.
In terms of character work, it isn't only Jack who leaps off the page and enchants. Nepherous himself felt fully fleshed (especially in contrast to his skeletal and ghoulish comrades!), and there's a trainee necromancer who's quite a lot of fun and whose confidence is a cute contrast to Jack's self-doubt. One of the most affecting stories in Majordomo was, for me, part of Nepherous's backstory, when we learn early on about a childhood (or, at least, youthful) friend of his who died, and who he raised from the dead rather than lose. Despite not being able to touch anyone for fear of cursing them, or verbally speak, this ghoul friend of Nepherous feels like one of the deeper side characters in the novella, and one who clearly means a lot to both Nepherous and his co-workers. Some of the other side characters don't feel fully developed, but it's not much of a drawback in a book that's obviously intended to be fun and breezy, and whose focus is very much on the main character and his relationship with his aging father figure.
Majordomo is comedic fantasy in the vein of Nicholas Eames, Sean O'Boyle's The Ballad of Sprikit the Bard (and Company), and the work of Dave Dobson. It takes a D&D setting that will be very familiar to many fantasy fans, and uses that familiarity as a springboard for exploring themes and relationships that run much deeper and hit much harder than the genre is typically known for. Featuring humour that relies on a rich examination of grief, family, and love, Majordomo strikes that rare but coveted balance of fun and emotional weight. I recommend Majordomo for anyone looking for a good time with a side-helping of strong character work, as well as fans of adventure fantasy looking for a critical but loving examination of the genre. Majordomo isn't so much a story about finding your place in the world as it is about occupying space in a world determined to push you out of it, and for myself at least, that's the type of story I need right now.