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The thrilling sequel to Sailing To Sarantium and the concluding novel of The Sarantine Mosaic, Kay's sweeping tale of politics, intrigue and adventure inspired by ancient Byzantium. Beckoned by the Emperor Valerius, Crispin, a renowned mosaicist, has arrived in the fabled city of Sarantium. Here he seeks to fulfill his artistic ambitions and his destiny high upon a dome that will become the emerror's magnificent sanctuary and legacy. But the beauty and solitude of his work cannot protect his from Sarantium's intrigue. Beneath him the city swirls with rumors of war and conspiracy, while otherworldly fires mysteriously flicker and disappear in the streets at night. Valerius is looking west to Crispin's homeland to reunite an Empire - a plan that may have dire consequences for the loved ones Crispin left behind. In Sarantium, however, loyalty is always complex, for Crispin's fate has become entwined with that of Valerius and his Empress, as well as Queen Gisel, his own monarch exiled in Sarantium herself. And now another voyager - this time from the east - has arrived, a pysician determined to make his mark amid the shifting, treachearous currents of passion and violence that will determine the empire's fate. en Gisel, his own monarch exiled in Sarantium herself. And now another voyager - this time from the east - has arrived, a pysician determined to make his mark amid the shifting, treachearous currents of passion and violence that will determine the empire's fate.… (more)
User reviews
It is a sharp contrast to the first book, where that was a slow burner of a book this one is the frenetic pay off. Without the 1st book this would be a lesser experience
GGK takes a horde of fully realised characters, complex political manoeuvrings and dramatic action and makes it utterly gripping but not overwhelming. As always with GGK there is nothing black and white about this tale, the tragedy of characters, good or bad, are their failures. Their human frailties that even the emperor has.
The weaving of characters and events into the rhythm of the story is joyful. Take the early event of the wedding drawing all characters together then adding new ones and all with their own thoughts and motives that enhance, enrich and underline the story and then he drives them separately into the night and we follow them through the darkness and their passions. There are so many different ways to love here and GGK has much fun exploring them.
The overarching plot, even though signposted (in fact because certain things are hinted at), is one of the most gripping I have ever read. Ok I might be basking in rabid fandom but I can assure you, if you have lasted this long, it will hold your attention. For there are some beautifully written pieces, from the action of the chariot race(s) to the dazzling political, empire changing, manoeuvring. Towards the latter half the pace is frenetic.
Ok there are problems with it.. some of the ways he ties up the story irritate me beyond belief, some off the characters from the first book are awkwardly forgotten and everyone is a shade too beautiful, especially the women and for a story that tries to mirror a whole world, plain women are a noticeable absence.
However none of these faults matter to me for in the end it is a great story, well told. I recommend this ‘duology’ to fantasy and historical fiction fans and to lovers of drama, political intrigue and romance. Of course if the investment in two books puts you off and you have never read GGK I would recommend Lions of Al-Rassan.
Following directly upon the events of Sailing to Sarantium (they are, really, one book) and starting with the doctor Rustem in far away Bassania experiencing the bittersweet consequences of saving his king’s life, Kay takes what he sowed in the first book and reaps the stuffing out of it. There’s palace intrigue, looming war, love stories and heartbreak, treason, chariot racing (a lot of it), and about a zillion story lines in different layers of society. And while I kind of miss a few of the characters from Sailing to Sarantium – Vargos and more importantly Kisia get very little space in this book – Kay makes lots of interesting new additions to the cast. Most noteably perhaps abovementioned Rustem, the skilled eastern doctor who is much more emotional than he wishes to be.
The sliver of fanstasy perhaps isn’t working quite as well here as it usually does, though. This is where Kay loses a few story elements – what is Sarantine fire really, where did those other metal birds come from, and what about those ghost lights nobody in the city pretends to notice? It almost feels a little bit like Kay added a sprinkle of fantasy mostly for the sake of it here. It doesn’t have the effect of “otherness” his sparse use of the fantastical usually has, and it isn’t really needed in this book. I’m also still ever so slightly annoyed by the fact that he chooses to portray every female character as cheeky and drop dead gorgeous – despite all other depth they have.
But these remain small points in a work that is in itself a spectacular mosaic. It’s full of suspense, melodrama (in the good sense of that word), real human dilemmas and even, on top of that, a little discussion about art’s role in society. For me, Lord of Emperors climbs to a pinnacle it shares with Tigana as my favorite book by Kay. This is, quite simply, a page turner of the highest order, truly epic in scope.
Most of Kay's writings (everything but the Fionavar cycle) are classed in the sub-genre he created, historical fantasy. The Sarantine Empire is a reflection of the real-world Byzantine Empire; the city of Sarantium is Constantinople, now Istanbul. And the great dome described in the book can be glimpsed in the still-standing Hagia Sophia, the dome that twins with the Blue Mosque to create the Istanbul skyline.
Through the eyes of a temperamental mosacist named Crispin, we watch as the Empire survives yet another religious war, this one over the hands of artists. And with this simple, unwilling man, we are bewildered by the fog-stained forests and burning city streets, and suffer the conflict between violent tradition and heartfelt faith.
This is Kay at his best, which means stunning diction, stakes that raise subtly, suddenly, and with inevitable force, and characters that you want to marry. This is also possibly the best introductory Kay, starting you off with a person who wants nothing whatsoever to do with the politics and fates of his world, and taking you through the map with him. (“possibly”, because the Fionavar Tapestry is also a good first, since the main characters begin in the University of Toronto and are completely freaked out by the mystical world they tumble into)
Having read this twice now, I can firmly state that it is one of the most remarkable books I've ever read.
That said...
The Sarantine Mosaic is a dulogy about change. While the first volume, (Sailing to Sarantium), dealt with the changes we bring upon
The first time through, there were a couple of points where I felt my interest wane somewhat. This wasn't a problem the second time. Armed with full knowledge of how events would unfold, I felt myself free to revel in the story. I appreciated each element for what it was: a brilliantly polished piece of a literary mosaic composed of artisans and soldiers, charioteers and royals, cooks and physicians, broken down into a series of glittering tesserae and reassembled into a stunning whole.
And the whole thing is beautifully, profoundly personal. While there are a number of tense political things going on, it's the characters and their interactions that make this book something special. The political situation almost acts as a simple backdrop against which these people play out their lives. Make no mistake, the politics, (and the factional rivalries, especially those surrounding the chariot races), are fascinating in and of themselves, but it's the characters that make them really feel important.
This is most certainly a book that rewards the rereader. I enjoyed it just as much the second time through, and I cannot recommend it highly enough. Read Sailing to Sarantium first, though; these two volumes are really more like one very long book, and you won't get the full impact unless you read them both.
I think, stylistically, the Mosaic is Kay's best work. In it, he shows that he is in complete mastery and control of his craft. Some of the things he pulls off are amazing. The pacing for one is absolutely astonishing. The second part of the first book (over 200 pages) describes events which take place in the space of 24 hours (the day after Crispin arrives in Sarantium). So, for that matter, does the first part of the second book (another 200 pages, the day of Kasia and Carullus's wedding), and most of the second part of the second book (the day of Valerius' death). Despite this, I personally couldn't stop turning the pages. Kay uses shifts in narrative perspective and tense so cleverly, it's dazzling. He reveals bits of plot slowly, but because of the shifts in perspective the reader barely has time to assimilate everything. Reading the books feels a bit like seeing Sarantium for the first time - absolutely overwhelming.
In most of his other novels, Kay is extremely careful of when he shifts to present tense. In the Mosaic, he uses it on a more regular basis, but in places where if flows naturally out of and into the surrounding passages. There's is only one place where the shift back into past tense seems extremely harsh and abrupt - after Valerius' death. And that has an effect of its own. The reader definitely gets the feeling that this is the end, that an rea is over and whatever comes after it will not be a smooth transition.
Another example of Kay's absolute control over the writing is the way he plays with the reader's emotions. I remember this from my first reading of the books. He takes a long time to set up Valerius' death. It starts with Alixana's visit to the island, then we get a chariot race, all the time dreading what we know is going to happen in the palace. This for me created a feeling of utter doom. I could no imagine Sarantium going on after Valerius. And at the same time, Kay kept giving us glimpses of the future, reassuring us that there would a future. He does it when he mentions that Cleander would one day write his Reflections. And there is one quote which for me puts everything into perspective:
"The first of what would be one thousand, six hundred and forty-five triumphs for the Blues. By the time the boy in that chariot retired eighteen years later only two names in the long history of the Sarantium Hippodrome would have won more races, and no one who followed him would do so. There would be three statues to Taras of Megarium in the spina to be torn down with all the others, seven hundred years after, when the great changes came."
What this is saying to me is: "If you think the death of an Emperor is the end of Sarantium, think again."
On the other hand, despite some very touching moments, I don't think the Mosaic has the raw emotional power I found in Lions. To use one of Kay's own images, Lions for me is a bit like the image of Jad in the chapel in Sauradia - so powerful it floored me both times I read it. The Mosaic, on the other hand, is more like Crispin's mosaic on the dome in Sarantium: still powerful and emotional, but above all a mastery of the craft.
One of the really nice touches about the Mosaic is the historical accuracy of the setting. A lot of the characters (Valerius, Alixana, Leontes, Pertennius, the Greens and the Blues) are based on real historical figures, and a lot of the plot (the Victory Riot, Ashar going into the desert, Pertennius' Secret History, mosaics in Varena) is based on real events. Of course, there are also a lot of divergences, but the picture Kay paints of Byzantium is fascinating. When I first read the Mosaic, I did some historical research and reached the conclusions that Islam was founded around the same time as Justinian ruled in Byzantium. I was amused and gratified to see Kay mention this.
Like all of Kay's books, the Mosaic, too, is about loss; and moving on. It starts with loss (Crispin's loss of his family, Styliane's loss of her father and her life) and ends with loss (Alixana's loss of her life, Crispin's loss of his work). It shows how different characters deal with loss and succeed or fail to move beyond it. It shows change and destruction, and at the same time makes a compelling case for hope and faith in the future.
A lot of it, I think, boils down to what Rustem says: we have to bend, or we break. We see a lot of extremely strong characters, all facing change and destruction. Some of them bend; and other break. Two of those who break strike me in particular: Styliane, who cannot move beyond loss and hate and revenge and whom I find myself unable to hate despite her deeds; and Thenais, whose world is so frozen that the slightest tension or pressure makes shatter.
And then there are those who do bend, and who through bending move on. Kasia finds a new life. Gisel, through being clever and flexible and probably also being luckier than one might think she deserves, not only stays alive but keeps her kingdom and becomes Empress. Crispin, despite all that life has thrown in his path, goes on, lives. Above all, though, there is Alixana. Despite, or perhaps because of, who and what she is, after tremendous loss, she, too, moves on.
There are two defining moments to Alixana, I think. The first is during the victory riot. "The vestments of Empire are seemly for a shroud, my lord. Are they not?" And then dropping her Porphyry cloak on the island after finding out about Lecanus' escape. These may seem contradictory at a first glance, but I think they are two sides of the same coin. It is not only about bending, so as not to break; is also about knowing when to bend and when to stand in the face of change.
The pairing of Crispin and Alixana at the end also seems unlikely at first. Thinking about it again, however, there is something between them throughout the books. It starts even before they meet, with the death of Crispin's wife and with Alixana during the Victory Riot. There is a lot of interaction between them, and we see Alixana trusting Crispin without even knowing why. And then she asks him how he lived after his wife died. He cannot answer, but she finds the answer for herself and thus the way to him and a new life. Yes, Alixana and Valerius were very much two halves of a whole; but once Valerius was gone, Alixana had the choice: she could die, or she could move on.
Finally, I would like to say that a lot of highly unpleasant things involving swords, or tesserae, or possibly both, and which Crispin or Carullus could describe much better than me, should be done to Leontes. He is a spoilt arrogant brat. He is also a religious zealot. I cannot stand religious zealots. In fact, I have very little patience for religion in general. And I feel sorry for Gisel marrying him. While Gisel is definitely a match for Alixana and with passage of time one can see her become even more so, Leontes is no match for Petrus. His failings, however, are in many respects what makes the Mosaic so good and what makes the loss - of the mosaics, of a culture and an era, of a civilisation - so keenly felt.
A lot of activity is packed into this book, though it is mostly on a personal scale, not on the scale of the empire - until the end, when things move in major and unexpected directions.
This is well written, with good style, excellent descriptions and great characterization. I'd like to know one thing though - how does a guy get to be as popular as Crispin? Every beautiful and powerful woman in Sarantium is after him, one way or another, even when he's just being an honest artisan. (no, this isn't covertly a romance novel) Makes you want to take up the art!
The first book’s plot development was a little plodding and heavy-handed. There is more of the same in this
Nevertheless, Lord of Emperors is a gripping tale of ambition, retribution, loss and other human passions. Kay is an excellent story-teller and there are several things he does particularly well to entertain and hold the reader’s attention. Many of the characters are memorable and Kay manages at times to tap the emotional depth that is his strength. While this story is formulaic and not the author’s best work, it is another demonstration that Kay can be numbered among the most proficient authors in the genre.
Both this novel, and
The true wonder pirouetted in an Emperor's coveted private walk through a connecting tunnel deep underground, far from the roar of the masses and the intrigues of his Court ... Kay had me rushing headlong through hundreds of pages, thousands upon thousands of words to reach this quiet moment. Yet he made me pause, draw back, draw up, high as a mosaicist on a scaffold, and look down at the turning away, at the hiccup of history that brought all visions of legacy tinkling down to be ground to dust under the heels of hatred.
Honestly, I had to give myself a break at this point. I knew, in my heart, the unraveling had begun, the corruption and destruction expanding outward swift as an earthquake's finger-like fissures.
Though I wondered throughout both novels which woman Crispin would finally connect with and eventually marry, I knew completely the moment when a former actress and dancer asked Crispin the achingly desperate question 'How did you go on living?' - a reference to the death of his wife and daughters to the plague.
Kay left us to guess which woman met him under the Sanctuary's dome at the end of Sailing to Sarantium, but he left no doubt at the end of Lord of Emperors. Alixana and Crispin found a reason to go on living, chasing away the leaping dolphins with dreams of children and peace in the west, out of the ruins of old Empires, broken hearts and shattered lives.
It's the characters. Kay gives us a wide range of characters, some of whom have ordered assassinations, started wars, hurt someone who was injured, betrayed husbands or lovers, etc. Yet, for all of them,
I love the relationship between the Emperor and the Empress. They have a deep love and total trust in one another. It's so rare to find closely married couples in fiction.
I love the description of the chariot race - Kay brings it to life on the page.
The politics and the food all come to life.
I've visited Hagia Sophia. In my mind's eye, it now has Crispin's mosaic on the dome.
The only thing that I fail to find totally convincing is the number of women who fall for Crispin, though at least (because he is still mourning for his late wife), he doesn't sleep with them all.
The woman he ends up with caught me by surprise. I can partly see why (understanding of each other's loss), but I'm not totally convinced. However, this is a book I will definitely want to read again, so I shall see how it strikes me the second time around.
A continuation to his earlier "Sailing to Sarantium," this book explores the Byzantine Empire from its center, from its Eastern edge, and from its Western beginnings in an alternate Rome. The cast of characters includes Caius Crispus, the mosaicist, though life in the Court of the Emperor of Sarantium, Valerius, is explored with greater depth. And the fact that it is an alternate history means that Kay can play with paths and characters that are composites of historical personae. The Bassanid Doctor, for example, sent from his King of Kings to study in Sarantium after saving his ruler's life, may not have existed but his life's details are well-drawn. The medicine and the rituals of the time are close to those of the desert tribes in what will become Arabia. It is also through his eyes that most of the action takes place.
Chariot racers, Senators and their spoiled sons, military leaders, eunuchs, and rigid secretaries are all beautifully drawn and their lives are explored in this remarkable, intense volume.
Lord of
One of the most compelling parts of any Kay book, and this one is no different, is how he cuts to the heart of those who do extraordinary things to find why and how they can accomplish such. The genius racer, the great artist, the emperor: all are still simply human, mortal and fallible, but some part of them transcends those limits, and this is what Kay so deftly examines.
In Lord of Emperors, we are shown the kind of will and drive that allows a man, a racer, to ignore near mortal injury and even his own chance at winning to create a perfect race for his team. The artist, Crispin, faced with a loss nearly as great as when plague took his family from him, can do nothing but what he has done, and creates. The emperor... Well, I will not spoil that.
Every book of Kay's I reads becomes another favorite. This is no exception.