A Malazan halfway retrospective

Now that I’m half-way through the ten book epic fantasy series that is the Malazan Book of the Fallen, I thought I would do a retrospective, a look back on the books I’ve read, comparing them to each other. They emphasize different things, emotional beats, themes and types of story, but overall they also share a lot of similarities. Regardless of how much I enjoyed any book as a whole they were almost always very enjoyable in the moment. Well, at least after I felt like I managed to put my head into the story, sometimes they just throw you in and it takes a bit of time to adapt, but after that it’s a nice ride. In Gardens of the Moon I struggled until I got to Darujistan, and in Deadhouse Gates I struggled with a majority of the Chain of Dogs storyline. I think one reason that I enjoy Erikson’s style so much is that it rewards the reader for paying attention. The more focus I give it the more I feel like I learn about the world, the characters, their emotions, and what’s going on. In a sense, the book is very engaging—not the shallow meaning web developers and influencers use, but in the sense that I’m very actively engaged when reading, especially on the sentence and paragraph level.

Gardens of the Moon 🔗︎

I’ve long been a sucker for good exposition, and that was one of the things that caught my attention in Gardens of the Moon. I’ve written before about how Dune uses setup and payoff to make effective exposition, but it turns out there are other ways to do it (who knew!). At first glance Malazan explains things in a similar way by introducing a new concept without explaining it (the setup), but it often skips paying it off. We get hints that suggest the shape of past empires, vast pantheons, long half-forgotten histories and legends—and that is often enough. The author uses this technique very well to make the world feel large and lived in, but also populate its vast history with living beings.

I love the Deck of Dragons, and I remember being really fascinated by it in Gardens of the Moon. I understood absolutely nothing of Tattersail's reading, but I just loved the aesthetics of it. It just doesn't make sense. Are the cards fixed to one face, or can adepts change them so that they match the state of the world? If not, how come the deck is representative of the world? Why can some people see more of the details in the cards? How can new cards just get added to the deck? Are there some wizards on a coast somewhere just issuing expansion packs when a new ascendant arrives? Or do they just exist? It all just feels a bit, for the lack of a better word, too artificial to feel real, making it feel magical instead. The Deck almost doesn't feel like it's part of the world, and instead a part of the book.

While I think Erikson gets much better at writing characters in the books after Gardens of the Moon, there are quite a few that I really like in this book. I really liked Onos T'oolan and adjunct Lorn's relationship that bounced between deadpan humor and casually dropping forgotten world-forming history from thousands of years ago. The characterisation around Anomander Rake and his sword is amazing and really conveys a sense of dread and respect combined with a sense of unfathomable magic. The dinner scene with adjunct Lorn, Tattersail and Dujek was amazing. There were so much tension in the air and so many unspoken intrigues. Oh, and of course I can’t believe that I almost forgot the magnanimous Kruppe, the most eloquent and well mannered, if not a tad too jovial, if such a thing is possible, man of Darujhistan, nay dare I say the world! I almost committed an act of utmost disgrace by omitting such a magnificent man, the saviour of the day, entertainer of men, and enemy of food waste!

You should probably continue reading the series if you thought this book was reasonably exciting but thought it lacked a bit of emotional punch. The character work becomes better even in just the next book (which was written around ten years later).

Deadhouse Gates 🔗︎

I really enjoyed (might be the wrong word, but you get what I mean) the Felisin storyline. Here we really get to see clearly how Erikson uses point of view very intentionally. It strongly sticks to her and we see the way she sees the world and how she reads all sorts of things into the actions of those around her that try to help her, even if we as slightly detached readers can tell that they aren't true. It’s not a pleasant read, but very interesting and sympathetic.

The Chain of Dogs storyline was something I mostly didn’t enjoy. It was simply too much military stuff and marching, which while it made a lasting impression, also made it boring. Except towards the very end where it was all paid off and it delivered perhaps the most severe gut punch I’ve ever read with the Fall of Coltaine and the soldiers in Aren that couldn’t do anything about it (Nether’s desperate screams particularly stood out to me, which says something, because desperate screaming isn’t something easily conveyed through text). One year later I still remember where I sat when that happened and how I couldn’t put down the book.

If you couldn’t find stuff that you liked by this book I don’t think it’s worth pushing further.

Memories of Ice 🔗︎

Memories of Ice is when I felt like I finally truly had adapted to the style of these books, because it really felt comfortable reading this one. I recognized many of the characters, the continent wasn’t completely new, and the new concepts introduced were building upon things I already recognized. Straight from the prologue I really felt like I was absorbed by the book, which was something of a first for the series for me. Especially the mythical tale of the three elder gods and Kallor was amazing and really set the tone for the world. It's a world of legends and myths. K'ruul wandering through the lands while absorbing blood, cursing Kallor to eternal miserable life through mere utterances of words, Gruntle's gradual transformation into Treach's Mortal Sword, the true nature of Dragnipur, Silverfox and the Mhybe—they all made the story feel slightly unreal and mythological.

I think Memories of Ice felt like the most magical book for me,(sidenote: My text about Malazan’s magic was something i wrote after reading Memories of Ice.¹ ) by which I mean that it really felt like the magic is underpinning the world, and it feels a bit like peeling back the curtain in a trippy fever dream. The world felt like an illusion, a part of something much larger and incomprehensible. Not just in a horrifying way, but something wondrous. At some point I read a bit too much Memories of Ice before bed because I did have that psychedelic fever dream afterwards, where I had a revelation that made me understand the true mysteries of the world. Alas, if only I could remember what was revealed to me!

As written above, I loved the Deck of Dragons in Gardens of the Moon, so I was delighted to see that it featured so much in this book. The mystery around it increases even more, all the while our understanding of it increases. The gambling table of the Bridge Burners was both hilarious (with Kruppe flying away on it, and the soldiers using it with a Deck to cheat at gambling! Like it's this super high fantasy thing that all the mages take seriously, but these soldiers are using it to gamble because the cards in the Deck react to it, and some of them have learned how to interpret those reactions in order to cheat against their fellow soldiers!) and wonderfully magical. Then there's the whole deal with Paran and the Master of the Deck. Things like Paran being able to travel by drawing something that looks similar to the destination without really knowing how further cemented the feeling that the Deck (and perhaps even the warrens?) is some structure that is imposed on the world rather than an emergent phenomenon formed by the laws of nature.

The mourning of Whiskeyjack and the T’lann Imass salutation of Itkovian were something else. I don’t remember every crying while reading a book before this, so these events introduced that experience for me.

House of Chains 🔗︎

Looking back on House of Chains I think my overall impression of the book is pretty thin. I remember enjoying a lot of individual parts, but as a whole it’s less clear, which I guess is one of the pitfalls of reading the series for me. Sometimes I get too caught up in the current scene and lose track of the bigger picture. Another reason this book didn’t work for me is that I was reading it when I was very tired, which I think made especially the climax not land for me, which probably hurt the overall impression as well.(sidenote: When I think back on it in the abstract though, I can see that it is a really powerful ending.² ) Despite that, when I try a bit harder to remember there is a lot of good stuff in there. The first part with Karsa Orlong was really interesting, and Erikson uses Point of View in a way that is new to the series and really engaging.

I usually don’t like all this marching stuff that happens when a military is preparing for a war (see for example the Chain of Dogs), but I do love the games the soldiers came up with. That whole scene with scorpion fighting was so good!

I’m not sure if I realized this in House of Chains or Memories of Ice, but I really like the characters that have lived for absurd amounts of time, especially when they themselves reflect on their ling lives. In this book it was Anrak that filled that role, and his reflections on the T’lann Imass was really touching. In Memories of Ice it was Korlat’s musings on being the last feeling the Andii felt hit hard as well.

Here’s a quote from page 550:

Withered corpses. Ghastly. Devoid of majesty, a mockery of all that was once noble. Duty and courage had been made animate, and this was all the T’lan Imass were, and had been for hundreds of thousands of years. Yet, without choice, such virtues as duty and courage were transformed into empty, worthless words. Without mortality, hovering like an unseen sword overhead, meaning was without relevance, no matter the nature — or even the motivation behind — an act. Any act.

[…]

An extinct past refusing to fall to dust. Brutal reminders of rectitude and intransigence, of a vow elevated into insanity.

And this is how I have been seen. Perhaps how I am still seen. By Trull Sengar. By these Tiste Liosan. Thus. How, then shall I feel? What am I supposed to feel? When last did feelings even matter?

Midnight Tides 🔗︎

This is by far the funniest book so far. Previous books have had funny moments or funny characters, but it really feels like he let it loose in this one. Almost everything that happens in wide proximity to Bugg and Tehol is at least amusing if not audibly-laughing funny, and that’s basically half the book. Bug and Tehol are such a funny duo, and they get to interact with so many other characters(sidenote: One of them being Shurq Ellale, whom I *need* to see in another book. I so want to see whatever she's planning to do with her pirate ship, and how Iron Bars will handle it. ³ ) that their humor feels like a core part of the book.

Another strength of this book compared to the others is that it probably has the most interesting and complex emotional relationships between characters. We have had really emotionally complex characters before in the likes of Felisin or the Mhybe, but I don’t think we’ve had something like the relationship between Rhulad, Trull, and Fear. The complexity in Felisin and the Mhybe lies in large part inside themselves, in their inability to interact with the people that are important to them (Tavore and Silverfox respectively), but for the Sengar brothers it’s the reverse. The source of their troubles and their grief is caused by and shown through their interactions with each other.

It didn’t have the most emotionally impactful ending, but I think that’s by design. It is a tragedy, but not the kind that ramps up into a catastrophe (e.g. see How Berserk implements the tragedy formula). We know how it ends from the previous book, so this one just shows us how they get to the point that it becomes inevitable, how the Sengar brothers’ relationship gets more and more fraught until we get to a point beyond repair. For me the most emotional scene in the finale wasn't the fight in the throne room, it happened after that when we finally, after the whole book, get to see Fear's PoV and learn that he was always agreeing with Trull but didn't dare admit it to himself and instead followed Rhulad down his destructive path. All his arguing against Trull wasn't really for Trull, it was for convincing himself to look away from the truth.

This is also the most philosophically explicit book, with many characters commenting on the nature of the capitalist colonialist Letherii society and its citizens, as well as the traditional but changing Tiste Edur society.

I'm really curious what he will do with the empty thrones in the later books. Here the empty Beast throne is set up as a metaphor for unrelenting certainty among the Letherii people, but there are others who also have an empty throne. The Imass used the Beast Hold before, so they are heavily associated with it, and they have a strong zeal to eradicate the Jaghut. When the Beast throne became occupied many of them also got to be free of that cause. The third people who have an empty throne is the Tiste Edur, whose throne of Shadow is empty (or is it?) (sidenote: spoiler for Bonehunters: it seems like the Shadow Throne isn't the only shadow throne, and it tries to get rid of any occupiers.⁴ )

Conclusion 🔗︎

I feel like for the first three books they became steadily better. I can’t say the same for the latter books, but that’s mostly because they feel like they’re doing something else. They’re all really good books and are definitely worth reading. I’ve taken so long writing this one that I’m already half-way through the sixth book, so they’re also continuing to be good. Uh, see you in five books and a year I guess?

Related: Unabstracted Magic, Musing on magic in stories