Kushiel’s Dart

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1. 

   Christopher Dudley @ 3:28 pm

   I have to say I had really low expectations going into this book. I bought it to read to my wife, who has a vision disability, but loves the fantasy genre, and there is very little serious romantic fantasy out there, even less available on audiotape. I reluctantly chose this one, figuring I’d suffer through it for her entertainment. From the premise of the book, described on the back cover, I expected it to be a practically endless sequence of raunchy sadomasochistic sexual encounters weakly tied together by a paper-thin plot. Can you blame me? Here’s what it says of the main character: “chosen [by some divine power] to forever experience pleasure and pain as one…. trained equally in the courtly arts and the talents of the bed-chamber…” How could that possibly have prepared me for the depth and skill of storytelling I was in for by reading this book?

   We hear the story as told by Phèdre, who bears the mark of “Kushiel’s Dart,” as the scarlet mote in her eye is referred to. This first volume in the trilogy starts with her humble beginnings as the “unwanted get” of a woman of little social consequence, her indenture into the Court of Night-Blooming Flowers, and her rise into the highest social circles of the city. That’s merely the first act. The trilogy is set in an alternate history of Europe, where the principal difference seems to be that in this novel, the French may actually be justified in their claim to divinity. The story’s main location is geographically analogous to our world’s France, but in Phèdre’s world, it is called Terre D’Ange (Land of Angels), because the inhabitants (D’Angelines) are descended from divine beings who left the holy land over a thousand years previously. The religion is explained early on in the story, and is close to, but not quite, real-world Christianity. The story takes place some time in the late middle ages or the early Renaissance. Carey uses real-world societies from various time periods to model her world upon. The names of the nations are changed to older, variations on, or more obscure references to those regions they describe. Spain is Aragonia, for example, England is Alba, and so on.

   The stage thus set, Carey proceeds to weave an intricate story of politics, love, betrayal, and adventure. One of the strongest points to recommend this story is the cast of characters. The many political figures who take a role in the story are all well-developed characters, each illustrated in great detail in the story, each with their own multifaceted personalities, desires, merits, flaws, and distinctive habits. There are erotic episodes, as the summary implies, but they are woven into the story so seamlessly, and in fact essential to the plot, so that to dismiss this book as merely common erotica is selling it far too short. To begin with the concept of a main character whose uniqueness is based in the erotic, and to build such a full and complicated story, Carey shows a skill with the written word rarely seen in fantasy today, and in fact in most genres of literature.

   No work of fiction is perfect. This book was not without its flaws or idiosyncrasies. Many of the reviews here complain about the overly flowery speech, indicating that the telling detracts from the tale. It depends a bit on personal taste, but I didn’t think that the narration style was too far over the top, and it was entirely consistent. What did become tiresome in this first volume is that the “voice” of the narration is as if these events happened long ago in Phèdre’s life, and she is telling this as if looking back through the years. The consequence of this motif is that the first 400 pages are rife with this one cliché that began to get frustratingly repetitive. She is constantly saying something to the effect of, “…if only I had known then what I know now…” It did lend a foreshadowing of tragedy to the telling, but was used much too often. Fortunately she lays off that cliché about halfway through the book, and while it does rear its head occasionally after that, it is nowhere near as pervasive.

   So much happens in this one book that it would use more words than I’m allotted to describe all the various plots, subplots, and cliffhangers and give my opinion of each. We are treated to vibrant descriptions of many of the locales of Phèdre’s world, traveling through D’Angeline cities, barbarian villages, rough wilderness, high seas, and palace halls. Phèdre finds and loses friends along the way and each one she comes to know, we know through her. Her enemies, as well, we come to know, and find that they are not the typical cardboard cutout villains that one typically finds in tales of love and magic. These villains have motivations that one could even sympathize with under the right conditions, and this use of moral shades of gray heightens the complexity of the work as a whole. The 900 pages pass in the blink of an eye, and I couldn’t tell you the number of times I finished reading a chapter aloud, and my wife and I looked at each other and could say nothing more than “Wow.”

   One of the writer blurbs on one volume of this series says that the trilogy has “something for everyone,” and I think that’s the best description I’ve heard yet. Complicated political plots within plots, a multilayered back story that could support a novel or two of its own, fantastic swordfights, massive army battles, erotic sex scenes, fascinating personal relationships… I could go on. I consider this book one of the nicest surprises I’ve had in a while, in that it was a totally unexpected enjoyment. After reading the entire trilogy aloud to my wife, we look forward to anything else Jacqueline Carey publishes in the future.

   
2. 

   Professor J @ 3:56 pm

   This is a first-time novel by Jacqueline Carey, and honestly—it’s books like this that restore my faith in the publishing industry. =P I have read novels by long-time writers which were nowhere near as richly detailed, powerfully written, or just plain interesting. Now I know that publishers aren’t just looking for the next Robert Jordan or Mercedes Lackey. They *do* actually care about quality.

   Anyway, enough babbling. The story is set in a kind of alternate Europe, primarily in a pseudo-France called Terre d’Ange. In this world, Judeo-Christianity never got much of a foothold, because in this world God had a red-headed stepchild, so to speak. Basically, everything’s the same as in our world until the crucifixion of Christ. At that point, Mary Magdalene wept at the cross’s feet, and her tears mingled with the blood and produced a kind of angel/god creature called Elua. Some considered Elua an abomination or a mistake, but thirteen angels decided to follow him, reckoning that he was a child of God whether God chose to acknowledge him or not (and God didn’t). Also following Elua was a woman named Naamah, a whore who decided to protect and care for this innocent creature by selling herself for his needs—to buy food, to bargain for his life, etc. Elua wandered for a long time and eventually found the land of Terre d’Ange, where the people welcomed him, and he and his angels settled down there.

   In the present time of the novel, the people of Terre d’Ange are known throughout the world for their beauty and grace, since they’re all the descendants of angels. And because of Naamah’s sacrifices, a sort of “blessed whore” tradition has perpetuated itself into the Court of Night-Blooming Flowers—thirteen whorehouse-temples whose male and female prostitutes are all sworn to the service of Naamah (who has the status of the Virgin Mary in this land) in various ways. Some houses specialize in delicate beauties who blush and faint; others specialize in clownish types who make their patrons laugh; still others specialize in darker arts.

   Into this mix is born Phedre, a child who’s rejected from the house she’s born into (the delicate-fainter house) primarily because she has a “flaw”—a tiny blood-spot in one eye. In Terre d’Ange, this is called “Kushiel’s Dart,” and it’s the marker of one chosen by the cruelest of Elua’s angels, Kushiel, who administered punishments to sinners in Purgatory. It also marks Phedre as an “anguissette”—a masochist.

   Phedre is sold to a man deeply involved in the politics of Terre d’Ange. He understands her potential immediately, so he tutors her in languages, histories, all sorts of things, while she grows up and eagerly awaits her debut to the service of Naamah. Once she starts her work—making assignations with the wealthy and powerful of Terre d’Ange society (who seem to consist of an awful lot of sadists) and spying on them—she becomes embroiled in the politics of the land. These politics lead her into an extremely complex and shocking series of events, taking her into alternate versions of the Nordic lands, Scotland and Ireland, gypsy country, and beyond. Ultimately she is the only person who can save Terre d’Ange from a terrible invasion—and she goes about it in her own unique style.

   What I love about this book is its protagonist. Phedre is witty, sensual, cultured, and haughty, and although she enjoys being bound and tortured during sex, she’s by no means a subservient character. Indeed, that’s a theme of the novel, repeated several times— “That which yields is not necessarily weak.” She may play the servant at need, but she’s always looking out for her own interests, and those of the people she loves. She can be downright ruthless, frankly, and she manages to bring about the downfall of a number of powerful people.

   I also love the sensuality of this book. This is a world where all of the whores have spent years studying the erotic arts before they ever lose their virginity; they even have a textbook. And Phedre knows every technique in it. Phedre’s assignations are sometimes described in tactful but powerful detail—not crude or pornographic, but clear enough that the reader sees both how much pleasure she gets from the act, and how she wraps her patrons around her little finger in the process. It’s not always pleasant, and those who are repelled by sado-masochism or bondage might find some scenes disturbing. There are also some scenes when Phedre is forced into unwilling slavery to a Nordic lord, and is raped (although because of what she is, she enjoys even this—and hates herself for it). But overall there are more than enough good scenes to make up for the not-so-good. Including several homosexual encounters, as a warning to those with more limited tastes. Phedre has no preferences, and her greatest lover/adversary happens to be a woman. (That’s another thing I like—there are very few weak women in this novel.)

   The only thing I could possibly call a flaw is the absolute complexity of this novel. And I’ll qualify that by saying it’s not really a flaw; I just prefer not to have to *study* when I read a novel for fun. There are dozens of characters in the book, all from different houses of nobility and different bloodlines of angels and different duchies and so forth, and even quite a few from different countries. And all of them are interwoven in a tapestry of intrigue so deep I almost got lost in it. We discover the threads of this tapestry as Phedre does, and we understand the whole of it only when Phedre comprehends, so for at least half the novel all these characters and all these events are a confusing jumble. Several times I was forced to look at the glossary of characters, thoughtfully placed at the front of the book rather than the back—it’s a necessity. However… when the tapestry begins to come together, it does so masterfully, and I realized at that point that all of the layers of detail were absolutely necessary. This is a completely realistic conspiracy, and by the end it’s completely realistic that a masochist-spy-prostitute would be the one to foil it.

   A definite recommend. =)

   
3. 

   Professor J @ 5:43 pm

   Others have written about the plot, so I’ll concentrate on who would probably like this book best, and who should probably avoid it.

   Fantasy readers who like magic-focused stories—there’s not enough magic here, except in the symbolic and vaguely mystical sense, to interest you. This world’s magic is all psychological. Anyone looking for standard fantasy or sci-fi—avoid this book. There’s nothing standard about it. The story is set in an alternate version of Europe, but this is just a trick to allow the reader to more easily comprehend the cultural and political complexity that Carey has written into this novel. Once the reader figures out that the Skaldi, for example, are basically Scandinavian/Vikings with all the attendant cultural tropes, that saves the necessity for tedious culture-building and lets the author get to the real meat of the story—the characters. Speaking of which, people who like a world-focused story should also avoid this. This story is not about the decadent country of Terre D’Ange and its people and troubles. The story is about a very complex woman who lives in this world, loves it, suffers for it, and ultimately triumphs. A key theme of the novel is, “That which yields is not always weak.”

   And—it must be said—people who have even the slightest unease about reinterpretations of the Christian faith, or people who are even slightly squidged by alternative sexuality of any kind—this is not the book for you. You’ll find yourself wondering why the author is spending so much time on the sex, or why she’s chosen to reinterpret Christianity in this fashion, and frankly—if you have to ask, you shouldn’t be reading this book. Might as well ask why Frank Herbert chose to reinterpret Islam, Catholicism, and gender politics in “Dune”. Speculative fiction doesn’t always speculate only about science or history or the macabre; sometimes it speculates about human society, and I’ve personally found this to be the best speculative fiction of all.

   As for who *should* read this book… Well, the opposite of the above, for starters: fans of religion in fantasy/sci-fi (particularly alternative religions), fans of alternative sexualities, fans of mysticism, fans of avant-garde fantasy. To add to that, fans of star-crossed traditional romance will find something juicy here, too, in the danger-filled relationship of the seductive Phedre and the celibate warrior-monk Joscelin. Fans of excellent writing should definitely read this, just to be treateed to some of the most artful and elegant prose I’ve read in a long time. Fans of strong female characters— the strength of this character is far more subtle than what you’ll see in most books, but undeniable nevertheless. Fans of mystery and intrigue, a definite recommend, although I found this to be the one weakness of the book. The intrigue is sometimes *too* dense (for this reader to comprehend, at least), and its revelations were sometimes too subtle for me to interpret. I think sometimes Carey forgets that not all readers are trained to this, like Phedre!

   Not everyone will or can love this book, and if you don’t love it you’ll probably hate it, with no middle ground. The styles are too unusual and the themes too strong for the least common denominator of fandom. But for those who can appreciate it… this is a real gem.

   
4. 

   J. Harvey Holcombe @ 6:19 pm

   Rather a good find, especially for a first novel…

   I picked up this novel on a sort of whim, it looked detailed and filled with shallow intrigues, the kind of thing I like for light reading. Carey takes her time in establishing the setting, and at first I wondered if I had picked up a piece of erotica masquerading as fantasy. I read with trepidation through the first 200 pages or so, noting how the author was taking her time and setting up what seemed like several plot strands, prepared to groan when she did not develop them completely. But, much to my pleasant surprise, I was disappointed in that expectation.

   The plot follows Phedre, an indentured slave and courtesan, through her training and into the polite society of the D’Angeline court (which claims its bloodlines from the descent of angels), where she becomes embroiled in intrigues while following her own path, that of an anguissette– one born to the spiritual line of Kushiel, her patron god, and one destined to find pleasure in pain. This is the first part of the novel, and I would definitely point out that a large portion of it is set in a boudoir, or “pleasure chamber”– not to the point of being tasteless, but I was at times speculative as to whether or not there was some larger plot at work at all.

   But then, somewhat abruptly, there was, and that is where the novel proved interesting, when those intrigues Phedre had been somewhat unwittingly involved in become larger concerns and she is forced to survive and engage herself in a much larger game.

   Though the novel is engaging and I recommend it, I will note that one of the most annoying aspects of it is that it is told by Phedre herself, from the vantage point of a later date. Her commentary as a narrator tends to the dramatic and highly romantic– which can be annoying, but as the reader comes to know Phedre through the story, it actually becomes rather endearing. From the comments of other characters we come to realize we are perhaps not the only ones annoyed and amused by her dramatics.

   Don’t go into this book expecting anything radically different in terms of plot. Yes, there are interesting and unique elements here, particularly the acclaimed celestial heritage of the book’s people, and interesting depictions of religion and culture.

   I recommend it highly to those who enjoy high fantasy, meaning fantasy including the likes of princes, priests, and courtesans. There is little overt magic in these books, which I missed, but there is ample mythology and intrigue. The structure of the book is solid, and once you get past the first 200 pages or so, it’s nearly impossible to put down– each time I got even slightly bored or thought of stopping, something dramatic or particularly twisted would happen and I would be forced to keep on reading– forcing a couple of very late nights, which is always a good sign of a book’s enjoyability.

   Enjoy!

   
5. 

   Michael S. Toot @ 7:06 pm

   Jacqueline Carey has written a beautiful novel that is hollow at the center. The main flaw is her central character, Phedre, who spends most of her time reacting (submitting?) to events as they happen, rather than risking more to overcome increasingly negative events. In summary, a typical scene is as follows: Phedre goes to a patron, gets tied up and flagellated, has rough sex, then collects information which is used to further the plot (such as it is). Now as this is a fairly quiet novel and primarily a character study, we need to see inner conflict, hopefully manifested as outward events that are directly influenced by the character. Other than acknowledging Phedre’s inherent conflict between pleasure and pain, and realizing that both drive her, we don’t really learn much else about her, nor do we care.

   For some readers, the BDSM angle will seem “new, daring, pushing the boundaries,” etc. and that’s great — if you’re looking for literature that echoes your own inner thoughts or fantasies. It’s just not enough to drive a character, though, and while I give Carey plus points for using beautiful language to describe what some readers might find disturbing, it’s not enough to sustain a novel-length work.

   On the plus side, the pseudo-Europe is well-researched, crafted, and described in beautiful detail; for me it’s one of the more memorable fantasy worlds to come into print recently. But a travelogue can hold attention for only so long, then readers need to see something more.

   For those of you on the bubble as to buying this book, I’d suggest borrowing it from your local library or waiting for the paperback, then deciding whether to spring for the hardcover. Interestingly, there seems to be a cadre of seven or eight Carey fans who downgrade any review of less than four stars, and uptick only the five-star ones. If nothing else, this should be a caution sign that you should consider carefully the bad reviews along with the good before you make your buying and reading decision.