Lois McMaster Bujold: Paladin of Souls
Feb. 28th, 2008 02:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
elfsIf I tried to sum up my experience of reading Lois's second Chalion book, Paladin of Souls, I could do it in a single word: paltry.
There is a stunning richness to her science fiction that is altogether missing from Paladin of Souls. A sense of detail, of surroundings, of environment. Paladin of Souls reminds me of the joke about the difference between Star Trek and Blake's Seven: in the latter, it is the sets that are made of cardboard. Paladin is like that: there is a fabulous story here made weak by a failure of descriptiveness: poor naming choices, a dearth of adjectives, an inattention to detail. Lois sees with the eye of, well, of a geek, and that doesn't serve her well enough among the serving wenches and princesses of Chalion.
Comparing Paladin of Souls to Jacqueline Carey's Kushiel's Justice, the last fantasy novel I read, might seem a little unfair, but it's the best comparison I have, and it tells me a lot. The lands of Terre D'Ange, Alba, and especially Vralia, are so exsquisitely vivid compared to the oddly unmemorable territories of Chalion. And that's not because so much of Carey's world is borrowed from real life: the territories of Moorcock's Melinbone, or Lynn Flewelling's Rhiminee will stay with me far longer than the Zangre or Porifors. Chalion is a colorless land furnished with routine extruded fantasy product furniture, more in the shade of Trudi Canavan's Black Magic Trilogy than anything significant.
If I were her editor, I would have sent this back with a note saying, "Lois, you can do better than this." But then, if I were her publisher, I'd know there was a ready audience for Anything Lois Writes, so I'd say, "Well, it's better than Trudi Canavan, and she sold, and Lois will sell anyway, so ship it."
There is a stunning richness to her science fiction that is altogether missing from Paladin of Souls. A sense of detail, of surroundings, of environment. Paladin of Souls reminds me of the joke about the difference between Star Trek and Blake's Seven: in the latter, it is the sets that are made of cardboard. Paladin is like that: there is a fabulous story here made weak by a failure of descriptiveness: poor naming choices, a dearth of adjectives, an inattention to detail. Lois sees with the eye of, well, of a geek, and that doesn't serve her well enough among the serving wenches and princesses of Chalion.
Comparing Paladin of Souls to Jacqueline Carey's Kushiel's Justice, the last fantasy novel I read, might seem a little unfair, but it's the best comparison I have, and it tells me a lot. The lands of Terre D'Ange, Alba, and especially Vralia, are so exsquisitely vivid compared to the oddly unmemorable territories of Chalion. And that's not because so much of Carey's world is borrowed from real life: the territories of Moorcock's Melinbone, or Lynn Flewelling's Rhiminee will stay with me far longer than the Zangre or Porifors. Chalion is a colorless land furnished with routine extruded fantasy product furniture, more in the shade of Trudi Canavan's Black Magic Trilogy than anything significant.
If I were her editor, I would have sent this back with a note saying, "Lois, you can do better than this." But then, if I were her publisher, I'd know there was a ready audience for Anything Lois Writes, so I'd say, "Well, it's better than Trudi Canavan, and she sold, and Lois will sell anyway, so ship it."
