Spoiler clearance: Reaper’s Gale

   Finished Reaper’s Gale – and even though the conclusion was good, it wasn’t as crazy as the previous one, with The Bonehunters. Chaos and political intrigue in Malaz City trumps any chaos and political intrigue in Letheras. Why is that? Not sure yet… Maybe because Malaz City has (and always will have) a mystique of its own, due to Kellanved & Co.

   Three separate climaxes in this book, to be precise.

   The ‘Awl’dan arc’ closes in one giant deus ex machina: after a thousand pages, of plotting, and maneuvering, and after many battles, surprise surprise – everyone dies at the hands of an insanely large number of White Face Barghast. Uh, Hood’s garlic breath!

   The ‘Refugium arc’ ends in a strange sort of coitus interruptus: after a thousand pages also, Clip kills Fear, and Silchas Ruin sacrifices Kettle, stabbing her with the Finnest. That’s it? New Azath. So, huge build-up for (almost) nothing…

   The ‘Letheras arc’ wraps up very nicely, mainly because of many utterly likeable characters: Tehol, Fiddler, Quick Ben, Trull…

   There are four major threats, in and around Letheras – Icarium, Rhulad, Silchas Ruin, and that demon-god trapped in Settle Lake. Icarium basically takes care of himself. Karsa kills Rhulad. The demon-god, never actually awakens. And Silchas Ruin – holy crap! We now understand how fucking nasty these old Bridgeburners really are. Quick, Fiddler, and Hedge do kick some SERIOUS dragon / Tiste Andii butt, and Rake’s little bro doesn’t even have the time to deliver one single blow! And why did he zero in on those three guys exactly?

   Well, that’s it for Lether, land of the passive-aggressive douches.

   As for the Crippled God, I’m beginning to genuinely feel for the dude. If stupid mages from another world brought you to a distant foreign planet, against your will, I bet you’d be pissed, too. And the only visitors he ever gets, on his tiny isle, come to bully him! Remember Quick Ben sticking two fingers in the Chained One’s eyes? And Withal, who vigorously destroyed his hut? And Mael, at the very end of Midnight Tides? And, now, the best bully of all, ladies and gentlemen, I give you mister Karsa Orlong! (applaud).

   But Karsa also proved he is way more intelligent than anyone would ever have expected. He kills Rhulad on the Crippled God’s island. I must confess, I haven’t thought of that. So Karsa has a bigger I.Q. than me, at the very least…

   Is the Errant dead? Probably not. Still, after that ‘discussion’ with Bugg –, who knows? It was quite an evil backstab, what the Errant did with the altar, after all.

   Is Icarium dead? Probably. Killed by his own machine! So, to all of you guys out there who are building something in your garages…

Poem Of The Month

Out of the dark night sky

rained down matter most foulll

and Kalam swore and wiped at his eye

wishing he’d brought a towelll

But the chute yawned above him

his way to the Mad Empress was a black hollle

could he but reach the sticky rim

he was but moments from his goallll

That Feel

   Spoiler clearance: Memories of Ice

   Ever since I first read Memories of Ice, there is one song that took a whole new meaning for me. When I listen to That Feel, I just cannot help but hear those few surviving Bridgeburners. Of course, the real subject matter of that song, is quite different; but don’t pay too much attention to its exact wording, and just ‘listen’ to the mood.

   Tom Waits is Sergeant Antsy – the one singing –, and then, you can hear Mallet’s deep tones in the background, and Spindle’s cracked voice, and even Picker, and Blend, and Toes… I must have listened to this one thousand times, in the last few years. I am perfectly used to it by now. I know exactly which voice is Picker’s, and which is Spindle’s, and so on, and so forth… What a great song!

   Tom Waits is an Ascendant, if you ask me.

   Spoiler clearance: Reaper’s Gale

   New twist! If Corporal Deadsmell is really to be taken to his word, the Shake are descended from distant Tiste Andii, with some K’Chain Che’Malle cross-breeding thrown into the mix... Shake well (just having fun here), and you get the strangest people ever created in the Malazan world.

   Truly wicked. Love it! It’s like finding a tribe of hillbillies mixed with gators – and some remnant of Blackfoot Indian blood.

   Just finished the chapter where Tehol is arrested by Evil Charlie Brown. Damn! Pretty depressing, I guess. But, you cannot help to think it was bound to happen: What if we took the most loveable character and put him in the same room as the most despicable character?

   And it’s Tehol alone. Without Bugg.

   We’ll see.

   Spoiler clearance: F**k it

   The word Fuck makes its very first appearance, in book number seven? Erikson never used it before in over six thousand pages, and now, boom, in Reaper’s Gale, p. 407, and again on p. 549...

   Well, fuck me. I thought these were family-friendly books!

   (Just kidding.)

   Spoiler clearance: Deadhouse Gates

   I’m gonna say something crazy. First time in my life. Here it is.

   The most important character in the Chain of Dogs, isn’t in the Chain of Dogs – it is High Fist Pormqual. Without this King of High House Stupid, there would have been nothing... The fleet would have been allowed to rescue Coltaine just south of Hissar, and that would have been a wrap, boys! No Sekala Crossing and no Vathar Crossing. No fights and battles. No Fall. No slaughtering of the Aren garrison. Zip. Nada. Rien.

   Sometimes it takes a super-moron, to permit a decent story, and give potential heroes the occasion to step up and make a difference. Weird. Glory and faith and self-sacrifice, all thanks to a monumental douchebag!

   Spoiler clearance: Reaper’s Gale

   Throatslitter is a nice surprise as one of the new anchor-characters. I like to hear him think. He is cool and he is scary. Yan Tovis is also much more developed now, which is great. I love that ‘Shake arc’ in there. Seren Pedac’s dialogue with Mockra (the Warren) is entirely unexpected, and totally exciting. Wow! Captain Faradan Sort and Beak are an odd match, but efficient nevertheless; Faradan Sort seems to always get stuck with weird powerful teens like Sinn.

   The Throne of Ice with Hood’s mortal body sitting on it: that was a perfect scene. One of the most chilling scenes in this book! Hood’s breath – his last breath.

   And two lines found on page 573:

   ‘Here’s your dread enemy, Emroth.’

   ‘More than you realize,’ the T’lan Imass replied.

Long Journeys

   Spoiler clearance: Reaper’s Gale

   Ragtag groups on long journeys to some obscure destinations are a staple of the Malazan world. Take Fiddler’s group in Deadhouse Gates. Or Lady Envy’s group in Memories of Ice. Or Karsa’s in House of Chains. Fear Sengar’s in Midnight Tides. Cutter’s in The Bonehunters. Silchas Ruin’s in Reaper’s Gale… It’s very much like a role-playing game indeed. Reminds me of my own ragtag group back in ’86: Dworl, my magic-user, and the mighty fighter Yohan, and the cleric Jalvik. We were quite dumb, though. But it was great. I don’t remember what we accomplished, when we finally reached one of our obscure destinations – but I seem to recall lots of dice-rolling and some messy arguments.

   Good times.

   But I love Hellian. Her ‘obscure destination’ is the best of all. Invading Letheras from tavern to tavern. I’ll drink to that!

   Spoiler clearance: Reaper’s Gale

   Seven hundred pages into Reaper’s Gale. I’d like to say this: the Tiste Edur are the worst invaders ever... The Letherii are dancing circles around them. I mean, the Romans wouldn’t have it. The Greeks wouldn’t have it. Nobody would have it but the Edur. Those Letherii guards are ordered to fetch Tomad and Uruth – and they barge into their private chambers with swords drawn! What would old Mark Anthony do? Five Gaul slaves barging into his room with swords drawn, because Caesar wants to see him? Mark Anthony kills the five obnoxious thugs. Later, he’ll just have to say: ‘Oh, these five? Killed them... Who cares. They’re just Gauls. We have a million of them at hand.’

   But the Tiste Edur continue to tolerate all that. I really do not understand. They let those guys keep their money and their influence and their positions of power, to what end? Isn’t that a bad strategy? They need some sort of Captain Kindly. A Captain-Kindly-of-the-Edur. One who has the balls to rise up and tell the Letherii: ‘Okay, listen up, you guys were vanquished, right? So we will crucify a thousand of you on every major road leading to Letheras, and then, you’ll behave.’

   When the Edur fleets were in Seven Cities, they were the most cruel raiders you’ll ever see. Slaughtered the Anibar. Genocided the peoples of Monkan, of Sepik. Why did they suddenly become so soft? Just cut off a few hundred Letherii heads – all the rest will start to work a lot better, then.

Moranth Sappers

   Spoiler clearance: not sure, let’s say The Bonehunters

   I love Moranth munitions. Especially cussers. Yet, I have to admit something. These explosives kinda completely spoiled the sappers for me. I mean the original sappers. We have never really seen them do their thing – the work they used to do before the Malazans ever met the Moranth. Digging tunnels beneath enemy walls. Punching holes through huge foundations. The whole Vimy Ridge experience. The galleries and counter-galleries. Being twenty-five feet underground, with pike and shovel, and suddenly hearing some digging sounds (and German accents) coming up from further down.

   Awesome shit. World War One certainly was no place for wussies.

   Hedge, Fiddler, Spindle, Cuttle and the others, could do all this stuff, for sure, I know. But they don’t do it anymore. There is no use. They just drill some hole and plant a cusser or two – or three, if it’s done by mister Jamber Bole, who belongs in the loony bin –, and that’s it. Ka-boom!

   At Pale, right before the Enfilade, there were lots of tunnels, yes. But we don’t see them. We only hear about them after the fact. After the collapse. We don’t venture into the darn things like we do at Y’Ghatan. But that’s another story altogether.

   Those Moranth, they are mysterious, to say the least. Barring Twist, there’s no individual characters in there. We only know the Moranth as a community. They stay put in Cloud Forest, that remote area on the coast of Genabackis, and never cause any trouble. Hood knows, they could easily conquer that entire continent! Overthrow the Malazans in Genabaris. Destroy Darujhistan (drop one flamer into one gas main, and... there’s nothing left). The Moranth could even annihilate the Seguleh. Fly over their island with a few squadrons of those winged beasts – then carpet-bomb it with eleven thousand cussers. Bye bye, First, Second, and the rest.

   But no. They don’t do it.

   As I said. Mysterious.

   Spoiler clearance: Reaper’s Gale

   Four hundred pages into Reaper’s Gale now. Somebody’s missing, isn’t it? Where is the Preda, the head of the military? Sure, it is a job for an Edur, these days – but who is he? Rautos Hivanar is head of the filthy rich. Hannan Mosag is head of the mages. Who has command of the army?

   Also, I had no recollection at all of that body-switching between Anaster, and Toc. I’m surprised by how blank I am about this. So much stuff happens! A normal human brain could never remember it all. Bits and pieces of the first three books begin to elude me already. Beru fend! Exactly how did Kulp die, and where? Was it Gryllen? I’m not sure…

   Last week, someone recommended I read George R. R. Martin... Yes, of course. Like I’m gonna launch my head into yet another multi-thousand pages marathon, and possibly remember merely half of it!

   Writers are underpaid, I suppose: that’s why the books are huge nowadays. The two hundred page novels may well be a thing of the past... Just one other guy like Erikson or Esslemont comes along, and I’m dead. See ya in Hood’s funeral parlor!

   The Old Man and the Sea, now that is an amazing story – and only a hundred and fifty pages. And Lovecraft’s longest? One hundred?

   Also, I wanted to tackle Balzac, before I die. Huh. That’s twenty thousand pages.

   What I’m saying, I guess, is this. Writers have been underpaid for a long time.

GOP

   Spoiler clearance: Reaper's Gale

   Letherii... gotta love 'em. It's a fantasy world, but not that much. Really. You've got your Mitt Romney running his Liberty Consign, and you've got Madoff over in Drene. There's a Dick Cheney right there in the palace, handling poor Rhulad. And you even have good old Joseph McCarthy in charge of the Patriotists. Sometimes you feel really at home.

   Sometimes, you also feel like throwing up. Hood's Breath, isn't that damn Empire something?

   Quote of the Month:

            Desire for goodness leads to earnestness. Earnestness in turn leads to sanctimonious self-righteousness, which breeds intolerance, upon which harsh judgment quickly follows, yielding dire punishment, inflicting general terror and paranoia, eventually culminating in revolt, leading to chaos, then dissolution, and thus, the end of civilization.

- Bauchelain

The Nehemoth

   Bauchelain is a decent guy. Really. You’ll find worst types working at Goldman Sachs, to be frank. And Korbal Broach! I mean... the dude has a personal rivalry with Hood – how can you not admire that?

   Long live the Nehemoth!

Tattersail

   Spoiler clearance: Gardens of the Moon

   I personally knew at least four girls who were exactly like Tattersail. If I knew four, then there must be hundreds of them. Thousands. All these girls are more or less overweight. They’re very sensual – and love men. They sometimes indulge in quite a bit of self-loathing. And they’re serious about tarot, astrology, or crystals.

   Once you’ve got a character like that, you keep her... You even write a complete series about her. Seven books. Maybe ten.

   Why? Because, as soon as those thousands of girls find out they’ve got their very own kick-ass fantasy character – you are in for some real devotion: that fanbase is huge.

   Yes, pun intended... But it’s true nonetheless.

   Anyway, I love you, Tattersail. You’re real. You’re damn cool. And you were the very first character I fell in love with in this entire series – even before my good buddies Whiskeyjack and Quick Ben. I really miss you sometimes.

Homage to Beleriand

   Could it be that Genabackis was intended as some sort of homage to this earliest of all Tolkien maps? The two look very much the same... except these continents curve in opposite directions. But the rest is somewhat similar. Big inland seas, and there’s also the fact that the first colonists – Noldor or Malazan – both landed onto the northwestern tip…

   Maybe it’s just a coincidence, but I really dig that kind of mysteries. Like finding bizarre symmetry between Lawrence of Arabia and Dune. (There is one all right.)

Scabandari

   Spoiler clearance: Reaper’s Gale

   So, what exactly did Gothos use, back then, to create the Finnest? Was it a mask? A strange whip? I know an old manservant, in Letheras, who probably remembers very well.

   If Redmask is indeed inhabited by the lost spirit of Scabandari, it increases the meaning of that statement: ‘It is the way of time, for old enemies to find peace in the passing of ages.’

   Scabandari Bloodeye – the victor of the K’Chain Che’Malle – is possibly Redmask now – this guy who fights alongside two K’Chain Che’Malle! (Or... could Sag’Churok be secretly up to something?)

Shadowthrone

   Spoiler clearance: Reaper’s Gale

   Shadowthrone is ten pounds of fun in a five pound bag. Really. I love him. He’s the godly version of Orson Welles. So funny. When he speaks about the Nameless Ones, he says: ‘The Nameless Idiots’. And he says for Hood’s sake, even when he is physically in the presence of Hood – and then says: ‘Oops—’

   He tries to open his Warren, while still holding on to Kalam’s otataral knife... and mumbles: ‘Absurd! I must walk!’

   Temper bursts out of Coop’s with his big armour donned; Shadowthrone freaks, and flees the scene! Why? I have no idea... but I almost choked laughing. Fucking hilarious.

   Finally, Shadowthrone is so pumped up on caffeine (or something), he can quite easily be afraid of his own laughter: see page 1166 of The Bonehunters...

   The god allowed himself a small, dry laugh. Then ducked as it came out louder than he had intended.