Wrong Train, Right Time (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
wrongtrainrighttime) wrote2017-11-28 06:45 pm
wrongtrainrighttime) wrote2017-11-28 06:45 pm
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Swordspoint by Ellen Kushner
Kushner, Ellen. Swordspoint: A Melodrama of Manners. Arbor House Publishing Company, 1987.
This book was recommended (actually, gifted) to me by a friend long ago. Only recently did I get back around to it. And I'm so glad I did, because it was amazing.
The official subtitle for Swordspoint is A Melodrama of Manners and I guess that's correct. Actually, it was pretty refreshing to read something where the stakes were so low; the stuff I've been reading lately is more on the level of, this god we thought was dead, is not dead, and that has worldwide political and economic ramifications, which is...a lot. In Swordspoint, it's just one nation at stake, and even then the cast and setting are so tightly contained that it's difficult to work up much investment beyond that very narrow window. This isn't a mark for or against the book, just something I wanted to note.
I loved Kushner's writing. There's something very theatrical about Swordspoint; it has a slightly unreal quality that makes it feel like a play. The setting and the cast are largely self-contained; one can easily imagine actors doubling up on the minor characters, and of course it contains that great Shakespearean trope of the play within a play. The world of Swordspoint is an unkind and bloody one, yet the deaths don't quite feel real. Something Kushner even lampshades at the very start by referring to Lynch and De Maris' bodies in the snow as a "tableau." Kushner does an amazing job at evoking an incredibly strong and definite sense of place. The novel doesn't take place in any nameless city (though the city is nameless), but in this very specific nameless city. I love her descriptions and her dialogue, how the details effortlessly evoke mood and motion and setting.
And then there's the characters. Kushner's characters are fantastic. I love Richard and Alec, the intricacies and intimacies of their relationship, which is sometimes fraught but always genuine and real. I believed them as lovers; I rooted for both of them and they get such a lovely ending in the novel. Kushner draws such a great portrait of them as a unit and as individuals. (Richard is my favorite, though.) The minor characters are great too: drawn from all parts of society, illuminating and contrasting the Hill to Riverside. And then, of course, everything came together very nicely in the end. The threads spiralling around and intersecting with Richard and Alec's story were nicely done.
In conclusion: a very excellent book that I'm glad I finally sat down and read. Beautiful, evocative writing married to messed-up and intriguing characters. I loved it and I have my fingers crossed that the sequels will be as good.
This book was recommended (actually, gifted) to me by a friend long ago. Only recently did I get back around to it. And I'm so glad I did, because it was amazing.
The official subtitle for Swordspoint is A Melodrama of Manners and I guess that's correct. Actually, it was pretty refreshing to read something where the stakes were so low; the stuff I've been reading lately is more on the level of, this god we thought was dead, is not dead, and that has worldwide political and economic ramifications, which is...a lot. In Swordspoint, it's just one nation at stake, and even then the cast and setting are so tightly contained that it's difficult to work up much investment beyond that very narrow window. This isn't a mark for or against the book, just something I wanted to note.
I loved Kushner's writing. There's something very theatrical about Swordspoint; it has a slightly unreal quality that makes it feel like a play. The setting and the cast are largely self-contained; one can easily imagine actors doubling up on the minor characters, and of course it contains that great Shakespearean trope of the play within a play. The world of Swordspoint is an unkind and bloody one, yet the deaths don't quite feel real. Something Kushner even lampshades at the very start by referring to Lynch and De Maris' bodies in the snow as a "tableau." Kushner does an amazing job at evoking an incredibly strong and definite sense of place. The novel doesn't take place in any nameless city (though the city is nameless), but in this very specific nameless city. I love her descriptions and her dialogue, how the details effortlessly evoke mood and motion and setting.
And then there's the characters. Kushner's characters are fantastic. I love Richard and Alec, the intricacies and intimacies of their relationship, which is sometimes fraught but always genuine and real. I believed them as lovers; I rooted for both of them and they get such a lovely ending in the novel. Kushner draws such a great portrait of them as a unit and as individuals. (Richard is my favorite, though.) The minor characters are great too: drawn from all parts of society, illuminating and contrasting the Hill to Riverside. And then, of course, everything came together very nicely in the end. The threads spiralling around and intersecting with Richard and Alec's story were nicely done.
In conclusion: a very excellent book that I'm glad I finally sat down and read. Beautiful, evocative writing married to messed-up and intriguing characters. I loved it and I have my fingers crossed that the sequels will be as good.