‘Phèdre nó Delaunay was sold into servitude as a child. In the household of an enigmatic nobleman, she is trained in history, theology, politics, foreign languages and the arts of pleasure. Exquisite courtesan, yet talented spy, she may seem an unlikely heroine…but when Phèdre stumbles across a plot threatening her homeland, Terre D’Ange, she has no choice but to act.’
Oddly enough it wasn’t this blurb that compelled me to read this book, but rather the first sentence that Amazon so kindly provided. Written in first person, it gave, in a single sentence, everything I wanted in a heroine: ‘Lest anyone should suppose that I am a cuckoo's child, got on the wrong side of the blanket by lusty peasant stock and sold into indenture in a shortfallen season, I may say that I am House-born and reared in the Night Court proper, for all the good it did me.’ To me, this was no whimsical woman who, in the face of adversity, would tremble and lean on a hero’s arm, and neither was she a female who would unrealistically stalk around with a sword being aggressive. I was, to my delight, proved to be correct in this surmise. This is a heroine who uses her intelligence and her education, as well as her sexuality to achieve her aims. Phèdre is a truly remarkable creation who, rather than remaining inert on written pages, lodges herself, fully fleshed, into the frontal lobe of your brain, refusing to release you until you have heard her story. She is, without a doubt, my most favourite heroine to date.
Marked by the god Kushiel as an anguissette by the scarlet mote in her left eye, she forever feels pleasure and pain as one. It is not until political intriguer Anafiel Delaunay recognises her for what she is does she start being treated as anything but flawed. Taken into his household, she is groomed along with a slightly older boy in politics and rented out to the country’s most powerful political figures to glean their secrets and to learn who is in whose pocket.
It is when Phèdre learns too much from her patrons that the plot really thickens. To prevent her from alerting the Queen to an impending invasion she is sold into slavery to the Skaldi, a seemingly barbarous enemy of Terre D’Ange. With only her bodyguard Joscelin, a rather proud and disdainful warrior-priest, for company, we begin to see Phèdre’s true character shine through. While she may look it, she is no delicate flower and it is she who persuades, cajoles and bullies Joscelin into not giving up.
This brings me onto Joscelin. It’s rare that I take to a hero as soon as he opens his mouth. The arrogance he wore like armour was intriguing, especially when it became clear that he simply had no idea how to act around Phèdre. Not only does he disapprove of what she does and what she is, he actively lets her know how he feels about her. It’s also refreshing in fantasy to read about a hero who isn’t a trigger-happy idiot, but rather one who genuinely regrets taking life and who is horrified the first time he is forced to kill someone, despite it being in self-defence.
Disappointingly Joscelin peters out somewhat after his heroic rescue of Phèdre outside Troyes-le-Mont, meaning we lack further development on his and Phèdre’s relationship and insight into the resolution between the two of them.
On the theme of sexuality it is a pleasure to read a novel in which women are realistically given equal opportunities as men; Ysandre inherits the throne of Terre D’Ange, Grainne is joint leader of the Dalraida and Phèdre herself ends up as Ysandre’s emissary. They stand as powerful figures whilst retaining their femininity, completely independent of male strength. They are women who are proud of their sexuality and enjoy it in a society in which heterosexuality and female homosexuality are participated in for their own enjoyment rather than for male gratification. Indeed the arch villain of the novel is in fact a villainess, and an unforgettable one at that. Melisande is no cardboard cut out evil queen figurine, but a character that lives and breathes seduction and intrigue. She moves other characters around on a chessboard of her own devising, using skill and cunning to outmanoeuvre even the political mastermind Delaunay to achieve her aims. All of which she claims she does for the love of the ‘game’. Her schemes are so carefully plotted they can leave you dizzy, but you respect her like few other villainesses.
This novel does, as you might have guessed, examine sex and power, presenting sexuality, and the influence that it has on all aspects of human interaction, in a candid yet non-exploitative way. Sex is not used merely for effect or to shock (even though at times you are), but rather used to reveal nuances and sides of characters that would otherwise have remained hidden. It is a way that Phèdre has advantage over her counterparts; she is not shy in using herself as a bargaining chip. All that being said Kushiel’s Dart is still not a novel for the faint-hearted or the prude.
The heart and overarching theme of the book however, is love. Love for your homeland, for your friends and for your family, and the extraordinary lengths we go to keep them safe. D’Angelines follow the precept love as thou wilt and they keep this to the letter. It is in this that the true warmth of this book lies. The small, intimate relationships between characters and the feeling of camaraderie shared with the allies draw the reader in, hungry to see how these intricate interactions play out. Phèdre herself embodies and embraces this in extremis. It takes some loving (and masochistic tendencies) to face being skinned alive for your country.
Kushiel’s Dart is, without doubt, the finest fantasy debut I’ve read (I’m not the only one who thinks so, or at least in 2002, the year it won the Locus award for best first novel). The skilfully layered plot, the brilliant cast of characters and the beautifully crafted world means it is only narrowly pipped to the post of my favourite fantasy novel to read. Personally - and I know this may be controversial - I liked it more than George R.R. Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire series, which seems to be the current yard stick for modern fantasy.
I would have liked to have seen more of the villain-turned-hero Isidore d’Aiglemort as he was such a fascinating character. Appearing briefly at the beginning to give evidence of treason against his friend Prince Baudoin, and for a somewhat longer section at the end, we mainly hear about him third hand. He was given little room to expand which I thought was a shame, especially as his motives as to why he aligned himself with Melisande and what sort of relationship he had with her were so unclear. Why, after how she betrayed his friend, would he trust her to hold to her word? Intriguing stuff, yet it never got explored.
The main problem that I’ve found with the novel however is that the first hundred pages or so are slow going, but in my opinion needed to be able to immerse yourself in D’Angeline culture and explain the intricate workings of the Night Court, as well as setting up Phèdre’s origins and background. However this slow beginning is more than made up for in the rattling pace in the rest of the novel.
After reading Kushiel’s Dart I was so overwhelmed by the sheer scale and colour of the novel (and the excitement of discovering Jacqueline Carey has written another two novels from Phèdre’s point of view) that I did have to think long and hard about what could have been improved. Unlike what seems to be an increasing number of fantasy authors, including the aforementioned George R.R. Martin, Ms Carey does not shovel out ‘grit’ and ‘characters so venomous they could eat the Borgias’ in an attempt to make it realistic and dark. I did not come away with a sense of despair at the human race and nor did I find any of the characters tedious or unnecessary. Importantly I wasn’t afraid to get attached to the characters as they weren’t going to be ruthlessly and cruelly murdered one by one every couple of chapters, a device I find both lazy and distressing.
At 923 pages it is a whopping big read (hence the enormous review), but I like to think of it as value for money, and trust me, £8.99 is nothing for this book.
-Lauren Price
Your enthusiasm for the novel comes over Lauren, and I get a good sense of the novel's plot from this. But it reads as a bit too mushily subjective: too much 'I feel' and 'I thought' and 'Personally - and I know this may be controversial - I liked it'. Criticism, even in a book review, should aim for a more disinterested objectivity. Perhaps a little less plot-summary and a little more analysis would have given your review more punch. For example: you don't discuss the extent to which this novel functions, deliberately, as a crossover of Fantasy and erotica.
ReplyDelete"Oddly enough it wasn’t this blurb that compelled me to read this book, but rather the first sentence that Amazon so kindly provided." The 'so kindly provided' reads oddly (almost sarcastically); and why would it be odd that you were inspired to read a novel because of its first sentence?