Lois McMaster Bujold's The Sharing Knife: Horizon is on sale today!
Lois will be touring for Horizon for the next week. Check her out in your hometown:
Seattle: Wednesday, January 28th, University Bookstore, 7:00 PM
Phoenix/Scottsdale: Friday, January 30th, Poisoned Pen, 7:00 PM
Portland: Sunday, February 1st, Powell's, 6:00 PM
Minneapolis: Saturday, February 7th, Uncle Hugo's, 1:00 PM
As a reminder, you can preview Horizon here. And click through below to read what our early readers thought of Horizon, and the Sharing Knife series as a whole! (Caution: may be spoiler-y.)
The Sharing Knife: Horizon is a wonderful book. It's pretty clearly intended to finish the series, and does so very satisfyingly, though there's plenty of room for sequels.
At its simplest level, this is the story of the return from the journey described in Passage, for Dag and Fawn and the group that had collected around them—collecting quite a few more along this leg of the trip. The home Dag and Fawn return to isn't the home either of them left, but in the end they're back up in that region and clearly home.
This being a Bujold book, there are lots of important themes. All her books are built on her characters, and the plot flows from them; since these are realistic and complicated people, the book (and the whole series) have a lot to say without ever beating us over the head with a Message.
Rather like Miles (and Cordelia) Vorkosigan, Dag has the gift of causing those around him to grow, for want of a better word—to realize their potential, potential which may not have been very visible. In this series, Bujold gives an explicit metaphor for this. Lakewalker makers (Dag said way back in the first book) work with the ground (inner essence) of things to make them more what they are: ropes or leather harness that won't ever break, a coat (finally seen in this book!) that will turn a spear thrust. Even healing groundwork has as its main job providing support so the body can knit together as it was before. An analogous process is visible in almost everyone who's around Dag for very long. (His earlier life, as a senior patroller helping train young patrollers, pretty clearly embodied this same quality, too.)
In this book and its immediate prequel (or earlier half), Passage, there's an added twist to this: Dag himself is growing, changing in ways people don't expect in a man his age. The common element seems to be that one has to be open to others to grow. Again, there's a metaphor for this, in Lakewalker groundwork: the nature of beguilement and unbeguilement. Beguilement of “farmers” by Lakewalkers turned out to be that Lakewalkers generally aren't willing to open themselves to farmer ground. The foundation for this were present from the very first book. (Almost nothing in Bujold's writing fails to come to fruit later, repeatedly. She's an awesomely economical writer.) The person in this book whose role would seem to be teaching Dag, Arkady, becomes student and partner as well. I can't think how to say strongly enough how believably Bujold shows this happening.
The theme of the importance of keeping one's mission in view also deserves mention. This is brought out very clearly at New Moon Cutoff. But it's been implicit at least since the discussion of tents on arrival at Hickory Lake; and Sage's unwillingness to leave his anvil behind, in the face of necessity, is more of the same. There are all sorts of lessons here.
I'm trying to avoid revealing anything that might spoil someone's pleasure. Bujold's not the kind of writer who goes after moment-to-moment suspense about what's going on and what will happen next, but there are some plot events worth waiting for, and if you're one who cares a lot about this you may want to skip the rest of my review.
Early in the series I was a bit afraid Bujold would try to do too much, solving all the problems of the (imagined) universe in one major battle or catastrophe. A lot of fantasy writers give in to this temptation, and I find even the best of them unsatisfying. But, for example, it's clear that malices will continue to appear as they have in the past; for the foreseeable future, there will be tension between Lakewalkers and farmers. And yet, something's happened in these books that is changing the situation in radical ways, even though it hasn't all happened. I guess that keeping at your mission, one step at a time, doing what you can in the face of problems and of knowing that what you accomplish will be limited, may be the key theme of the series. In the end, Dag and Fawn are still at it, to the very last sentence of this book.
If you haven't read the earlier books, I'd really, really recommend starting at the beginning, with Beguilement. Not because it's a big puzzle and you'll spoil the surprise ending if you get the answers without getting all the clues; not anything like that. But part of the joy of reading Bujold's work here is seeing it come together, step by step. It's a little like watching a building go up, or a child grow up. You appreciate the complexity and soundness of the result more when you've seen the pieces put together. And, as I've said, Bujold writes amazingly tightly; what comes before almost always really makes a difference.
Some closing, semi-random comments:
The series was initially supposed to comprise two duologies. (A duology is a single novel in two volumes.) The first was to be called The Sharing Knife and to comprise volumes named Beguilement and Legacy. Bujold in fact wrote it that way. (I don't know whether the second volume was fully finished when this was accepted for publication, but it was at least a full draft. And, obviously, this was planned this way. It wasn't a novel that overflowed and had to be chopped in two; there was much forethought as to how it would divide.) I think the working title of the second duology was at some point The Wide Green World.
Somewhere along the line, this was changed to be a series with overall title The Sharing Knife. I'd say this was a marketing decision. But that really doesn't affect the originally intended structure. “The Sharing Knife” is much less appropriate to the content of the last two volumes, but they do fit together beautifully as a single work, covering Dag and Fawn's trip down the river to Graymouth and the sea and their return to Oleana and home. The end of Legacy marked the end of Dag's career (or, rather, life) as a patroller. (Notwithstanding Cumbia's words to Fawn, that he'd never really leave it behind—even though what she said proves basically true.) Passage and Horizon deal with his new life as a maker. I could multiply examples. There are plenty of things building through all four volumes, but I'm fairly sure that the overall structure is what Bujold had in mind from pretty early on.
The book includes one of those one-year-later-what's-happened-to-everyone epilogues. Normally I despise these things. Bujold's leaves me satisfied. I'm not sure what to say about why, except that this one doesn't feel forced in any way. It's like tying up the bow on the present. I recommend it all highly: the book, and the whole series. And anything else of Bujold's you can lay your hands on.
I find a new main character introduced here, Arkady Waterbirch New Moon Cutoff, particularly compelling and fascinating. This may just be me, of course. But I think he's one of Bujold's best.
Finally, the cover is vivid, conveying a specific and easily recognizable event in the book. It's not quite plausible in every detail, and is a bit over-dramatic, but overall it's excellent.
-- Dave
This fourth and final volume has the group start in the south, not long and not far where we left them by the sea, and takes us back to the north. Bujold shows a strong hand for story as Fawn and Dag meet the very different Lakewalkers in the south in New Moon, and then the characters that accompany them on the long road back north and east. Such a long overland adventure is bound to be full of adventure, and, reaching back to the second novel, Bujold places yet another menace, a unique and dangerous malice and its horrifying minions in the way of the party. The action and adventure are a little more front and center in this novel as opposed to the third. The romance angle of the first two novels is less in evidence here. There is some, but less humor than the previous novels. Bujold's strength,though, always has been strong characters, from the "top of the ticket" in Dag and Fawn, down to the minor characters, and even minor characters whom we meet only once. It's the characterizations and the interactions between the characters that Bujold homes in on. I remember listening to an interview of Bujold for the old SF Encyclopedia, where she talks about her desire to explore the psychology of characters (internal and external). Since then, I've looked for that in her novels and seen what she means by that. Sharing Knife: Horizon is an exemplar of her writing philosophy at work. The end of the book neatly wraps up the story of Dag and Fawn in the Sharing Knife world, and it seems to me that Bujold is looking to the future where she is going to write novels with different characters, or a different world entirely. Sharing Knife: Horizon is an excellent capstone to the series. Once again, while it would be plausible for a new reader to pick up this volume and be quickly immersed in the world, I think the volume works best having read the previous books in the series. -- Paul
I had the privilege recently to read the Sharing Knife series by Lois McMaster Bujold, courtesy of Eos. This four volume series tells the story of the young farmgirl Fawn and her relationship with the middle-aged Dag. As a patroller, Dag is responsible for walking the land looking for the life-sucking demons known as blight boggles or malices. As a widower, he's also walking the land looking for death.
Then he rescues the helpless, pregnant Fawn from the slimy grasp of a moderately powerful malice; but not before the creature manages to literally rip the life from her three month old fetus. Dag nurses Fawn back to health, and in the course of doing so falls once again into love. Their love is, of course, forbidden by both their peoples but neither cares.
You see, in their world, there are patrollers and there are farmers. The latter group basically encompasses all the not-patrollers: farmers, merchants, soldiers, and regular people who don't have the extrasensory powers of the patrollers. It's a classic case of love bridging the division of right-side/wrong-side of the tracks. There is prejudice and mistrust on both sides and neither group feels very comfortable with the other.
As one-half of a multi-racial marriage, this particular theme struck a chord with me. When Dag and Fawn marry and neither group is really willing to accept them, where will they live? Will their respective families allow them to remain together or try to force them asunder? Where does a young couple make their home when their roots are at odds? Is their relationship strong enough to face the inevitable prejudice and doubt of their friends and family?
Then throw in the fact that these demon-like malices are emerging more and more frequently to face a dwindling supply of kamikazi patrollers willing to donate their heart's deaths to their destruction. The big question then is - Can Dag stay married to and protect Fawn without walking away from the responsibilities that he's shouldered for his entire life? Can he convince both sides that they need each other in the fight for their very existence?
One of the central themes throughout the series is whether one open-minded couple can change the very structure of their world. Horizon doesn't necessarily come right out and answer that question. By the last paragraph, Dag and Fawn have made a very good start. Some very small social changes, combined with a very dramatically portrayed final battle with an extremely strong and destructive malice, are an excellent start. But Bujold doesn't give us the answer to that question. She leaves us with the same things we have in this world: A good idea, a head start, and a whole lot of hope.
I enjoyed this series very much. It was a deep, well-woven tapestry with some of the best world-building I've ever seen. Stories are like relationships. Some of them reach out, grab you by the heart and leave you breathless, wanting more. The Sharing Knife is more like that solid, dependable guy you once dated. Remember? He's the one who always opened doors and remembered your birthday, giving you the same flowers every year. You smile to think about him; you enjoyed his company. But you broke up with him a year ago because that "spark" just wasn't there. I didn't fall in love with the world, but it was a very pleasant distraction to retreat into for a time.
The age difference between Fawn and Dag creeped me out a little. I understand that Fawn's youthful eighteen-year-old exuberance is meant to give the fifty-five-year-old Dag something new to live for. I just have to admit that my skin crawled just a little bit every time I thought of it.
I was impressed by the way Bujold managed to portray a one-handed hero without ever making it seem like he was handicapped. Dag's maiming fit into the story without it being something he needed to "over come" in order to live normally. It simply was an aspect of him, like having dark hair or being tall. Having only one hand wasn't any more a detriment to Dag than having brown eyes is to me.
Overall, I think this series sits at a very solid B. It's not something I'll race to re-read but it's nice to know it's there in case I'd like to revisit it.
-- Melissa
The Sharing Knife series comes to a stopping point, if not a conclusion, in this fourth volume in the story of Dag, a Lakewalker whose powers are maturing as he is growing older, and his young Farmer bride Fawn. The first two novels introduced us to the two of them, their romance, and the very different lives that comprise the two halves of their world. The third novel brought us on a grand river adventure south in the company of a motley set of companions ranging from Fawn's brother to a pair of runaway Lakewalker patrollers.
Comments