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It's 2017 and the end days are coming, beings that were once human are gathering to fight in one last great war for control of the Vellum - the vast realm of eternity on which our world is just a scratch. But to a draft-dodging Irish angel and a trailer-trash tomboy called Phreedom, it's about to become brutally clear that there's no great divine or diabolic plan at play here, just a vicious battle between the hawks of Heaven and Hell, with humanity stuck in the middle, and where the easy rhetoric of Good and Evil, Order versus Chaos just doesn't apply. Here there are no heroes, no darlings of destiny struggling to save the day, and there are no villains, no dark lords of evil out to destroy the world. Or at least if there are, it's not quite clear which is which. Here, the most ancient gods and the most modern humans are equally fate's fools, victims of their own hubris, struggling to save their own skins, their own souls, but sometimes, just sometimes, sacrificing everything in the name of humanity.… (more)
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What *is*
Hal Duncan’s book is about…um. A war between heaven and hell, between a Covenant of Angels and a hoard of little Devil barons. Which is a very local affair, merely a skirmish, in the Vellum, which is the vast tapestry where our universe is just a tiny spot on the map. But mostly it’s about a group of unkin (a sister, a brother, a lover and maybe a child) getting caught in between when they don’t want to take sides. Because this war is like any war, mainly fought in trenches by foot soldiers (metaphorically speaking). The murder of Matthew Shepard has to do with this. And the Prometheus myth.
If that sounds somewhat straight, you’re mistaken. Duncan juggles dozens parallel planes of stories, overlapping or sharing characters or mirroring each other. There are several people in different times with the same names. There are also a number of myths relating to the main characters. And a few meta planes, including an interesting one about a fellow travelling for millennia through a completely empty Vellum, and one that implies this whole thing might be a psychosis. (Are you confused yet?)
This book is kind of what might be the result of Neil Gaiman and William S. Burroughs having a child together, who thinks it’s lame-ass to tell a story. There’s no question Duncan knows his stuff – mythology, allusion, postmodern cut-up… It just too bad he seems completely uninterested in letting me in. There are moments of genuine interest from this reader – a sudden outburst of ten coherent pages or a elegant twist at the end of chapter. There are also hints, I suppose: subtle changes in fonts, and chapter headings moving left, right or centre. But it doesn’t help me. I still feel like I’m stuck at a jazz concert, glancing at my watch way too often. 221 pages to go, 220…
So Hal Duncan, it’s been an interesting three (damn) weeks, but I don’t think we should see each other anymore. I’m removing Ink from my list of candidates. It’s not you, it’s me. You deserve someone who appreciates you for you, you know?
I did find the last hundred pages or so sort of anticlimactic. I was hoping for a bit more oomph in The Big Reveal, as it were, but it may just be that (a) I've been writing along similar thematic (although very different structural) lines and (b) I'm a trained professional.
All that aside, however, this book is An Achievement.
The problem I had with it is more a matter
This had been recommended to me by someone on a House of Leaves forum, and I was very excited, as that was one of my favorite books. But House of Leaves was extremely focused on its characters, giving one a very deep look inside their heads. Where with this one, I couldn't always guess what a character's true feelings are.
If one likes a challenge and a lot of mythology, and doesn't mind not getting to know characters very well, then this is very much worth reading. Actually, it is worth reading no matter what, I'd say.
Duncan's book is dense, with a complex, non-linear plot, and a mass of slightly obscure external and intenal references. There's nothing that I spotted that will baffle Google
His style, while lucid is quite dense, and lyrical. He resembles in tone some of the earlier fantasy writers, Dunsany, Morris, McDonald and sometimes even Lovecraft, but his voice is his own, and is worth listening to.
This is fantasy as a powerful novel, written by someone who has clearly read a lot of other novels. Unlike many recent fantasy writers, who only grasp the surface of what Tolkien tried to do, Ducnan understands what he really meant by 'Fairie' and goes there. If you find people like Eddings, Brooks and Feist a bit tedious, and a bit repetitive, as I do, try Duncan - fantasy writing for grown-ups.
Summary :- This is the best fantasy novel I've read this century. Do yourself a favour and read it too.
There's only so much repetition I can take, and this exceeded the limit, and then some. I've managed three hundred pages, so it's not as if I didn't give it a fair try. A few books I've not finished through laziness, but this joins the ranks of those (half a
Note: At times this author shows potential. There are scenes scattered throughout the novel (although broadly) that are interesting and well written. I think that this story would have been much better if the author hadn't treated it like a sandbox to play in. I realize that the author shifts time, character, and perspective because he is showing us the non-linear and yet eternal nature of the vellum. Unfortunately, it just doesn't work. You leave this work feeling as if nothing has been gained. Instead, this novel feels like a very long writing excercise.
On one hand this book is rich with cultural references, old legends and a grand scale. On the
The lack of distinct characters in this book, their replacement with overarching characters that transcend time and location is confusing and for me, offputting. It's clear that this is a book into which the author invested a lot of time and research. It's just not for everyone and it's not for me. I definitely won't be picking up the sequel.
It would probably appeal to people who prefer the more magical realism end of the fantasy spectrum, and if you're looking for a plot forget it, well
It is interesting in how some people seem to tap into archetypes and become something beyond normal.
It just wasn't my kind of book.
Conveniently, Duncan describes his work himself, within the text of the book:
"...the Book has as many histories as the world itself, and it contains them all in its Moebius loop of time and space, of contradicting
At least, that's the goal.
It starts off promisingly: a student seeks to steal a secret vellum manuscript - the Book of All Hours - a book which determines and reflects reality, which contains all possible realities... a book written in the language of angels, upon the skin of angels, which contains the entirety of the time-space continuum. This is connected to a War in Heaven, agents of the angels that walk upon the earth, and a lot of Sumerian mythology. It began by reminding me of Storm Constantine's Grigori books, and Catherynne Valente's Palimpsest. Neither of those is a bad thing.
However, there's a problem with writing a book about a book that is supposed to contain all things, when you intend the format of your book to reflect that of your fictional book. How do you edit it? What should go in, and what shouldn't? I would have had trouble editing this book, I have to admit. And, in the end, I don't think it worked.
It's obvious that Duncan wrote several reasonably coherent narratives, then chopped them up at mostly-random, and mixed them together. He also wrote a lot of random Other Stuff (thoughts in his head that day?) and stuck those in too. (It reminded me of doing college creative writing assignments, when I sometimes pieced disparate pieces of my writing together in order to make up a page count by a deadline.)
Yes, the reader can piece the narratives together as s/he goes along, but do the "inconsistencies and digressions, spurious interpolations and interpretations" serve a purpose? I kept hoping that they would. I have to admit that my interest was waning by the end of the first book, but I read the whole second book with the hope that it would all get pulled together. I don't feel that that happened.
Duncan is obviously a smart guy. He's very obviously well and widely educated. There are a lot of interesting ideas in these books, and many of the small vignettes are expertly and beautifully written. He has a nice command of the English language. However, I couldn't help feeling that he might be more suited to writing essays than novels. I bet he's good at academic papers, too.
About halfway through the second book, I was thinking about why I really wasn't enjoying it, and I realized that all of the characters, no matter which reality they're currently in, whether they speak in a broadly-written accent, are young or old, or even (in one case) female, seem like they're actually the same person: Hal Duncan(?)
I kid you not, after I realized that, on the very next page, I came across this quote: "there's a deeper connection between them - Jack, Puck, Anna, Joey, Don and himself...Finnan too, wherever he is. The seven of them, seven souls, but maybe really only one...identity."
Yep. They're all the same person. And they're too busy being archetypes, metaphors or mouthpieces most of the time, to be convincing characters.
Duncan says, "Let us consider reality itself as a palimpsest." OK, consider that considered. I even really like the idea. I like a LOT of the ideas in this book. But I feel that those idea would have come through better through the use of a more consistent format - not even necessarily a traditional format, but just a more consistent one. For example, part 3 (the first half of 'Ink') is largely taken up by the characters putting on a performance of a version of 'The Bacchae.' However, Greek drama plays little part in any of the other sections of the book. It feels out-of-place. As do many of the other "spurious interpolations" within the text.
I feel like Duncan said, "well, it's inconsistent because I want it to be inconsistent." But I still prefer consistency. And characters with individual identities.
I often really like things that others describe, negatively, as "pretentious." But this is one of those rare occasions where I am feeling moved to use "pretentious" in a negative sense. This book is pretentious.
There were definitely tons of cool ideas and great visuals but really a whole nother book could have been written about this book just interpreting what happened and what certain passages meant.
I really like the overlaying of myths over the characters in the story and their situations. Very cool stuff. Just a little more coherence would have made this a four or five star book. Instead after about 300 pages I pretty much knew there was going to be no closure, it wasn't going to suddenly make sense at the end. I was right. There wasn't and it didn't.