Posts Tagged ‘Vin’


I was concerned about the shift in tone from the end of the second book in The Stormlight Archive, Words of Radiance: Kaladin and Shallan had been lost characters slowly discovering their powers and paths in their own way, interracting with their spren and learning in a softly organic way; as Words of Radiance ends, Knights Radiant seemed to be popping up everywhere! And tentatively being drawn to and organised and systematised by Dalinar who himself had bonded the Stormfather himself.

Individual stories in the first two books looked like becoming institutionalised; human conflicts looked like growing to global and divine conflicts.

And, personally, the individual story is always more powerful than a global one; the human more intriguing than the world.

The headline to this review is that I most certainly did enjoy the novel. Sanderson delivers vivid characters as always, returning to Shallan and Kaladin in particular; his world building and magic system is as intricate and detailed and precise as it always is; his action scenes are intense and thrilling; it delves into elements of socio-economic commentary – a little heavy handedly perhaps with the divisions between light and dark eyes, and male and female roles; significantly more thoughtfully in Moash and Kaladin’s sympathy for the Parshmen and Parshendi. It is most certainly a novel on the strength of which I will be continuing with the series.

It is not without its issues though.

Dalinar Kholin is probably the central character in the novel and, as Oathbringer opens, has fled the Shattered Plains and set up a base in the mythical and lost Urithiru, with access to an Oathgate portal that, conveniently, allows him to access a range of other cities across the continent and, instantly, the world political expanded. Monarchies and city states which were mentioned previously are visited and invited by Dalinar to unite.

Sanderson continues his use of flashback chapters – as he did with Kaladin in The Way of Kings and Shallan in Words of Radiance – and here the flashback chapters show us Dalinar revelling in the thrill – and the Thrill – of battle in all its glory and gore and visceral delight. Sanderson does write these epic battle scenes very well and these are excellent and thrilling and sweeping. Almost enough for the reader to feel that thrill themselves – and satisfyingly giving the reader and Dalinar an explanation of his missing misremembered wife’s fate. And enough to make the present-day Dalinar’s somewhat half-hearted and inept attempts at diplomacy – and there is an awful lot of diplomacy and waiting and talking and negotiating in the book – feel wrong. He feels limited and impotent and constrained like a tiger in a zoo:  the fabled Blackthorn struggling to fill the role of leader and High King and turn his back on the battlefield and succumb to the temptation of drink.

It does make me wonder whether, by book ten in the series, the flashback reveal of a major trauma for a character, might become something of a cliched trope.

I accept that this is a deliberate contrast but, as a result of this conflict – and of the sheer ambition of the series – the pace of the book does suffer, compared to the previous two novels – and they were not fast paced due to the necessity of world building.  In a novel which revolves around the movements of massive stormfronts across the world, I suppose that the pace is appropriate, and the flashbacks keep giving us the drip-feed of action… but I wonder whether a little judicial pruning might have streamlined it. I wonder whether all of the pages – in excess of 1,200 – actually progressed the plot or the characters.

Sanderson explores a lot more of the nature of this world and the relation of it to others in his Cosmere – so much so that we have a fairly extended cameo appearance within it. Unfortunately, not from a novel I had read (imagine if Kelsier or Vin had passed through from the pages of the Mistborn Trilogy!); but fortunately not in a way which requires any prior knowledge. Odium is introduced directly as the vast Cosmere-wide threat; his followers, the ancient and twisted spren known as the Unmade, are fleetingly glimpsed  – with one disturbingly Bacchanalian scene in Kholinar – and enigmatic; the ancient voidbringer Fused spirits taking over the Parshendi and the fate of the lesser Parshendi are explored in more detail. Venli and her sister’s spren, Timbre, in particular, are developing into increasingly compelling characters.

Our more familiar characters, however, seem to suffer a little in this novel: Kaladin came across as more two-dimensional than previsouly; and Shallan’s exploration of different personas through her Lightweaving was just a little too extended and repeated. Just as we think she has reached some sort of self-knowledge and reconciled the various aspects of her personality, off she goes again! And her love interests and possible love-triangle felt just a little awkward and forced for me.

My biggest issue, however, was the extended trip to Shadesmar, the spiritual realm. I’m going to say it. I don’t want to but I feel I have to. It’s a midichlorian moment. The spren as these strange manifestations of emotion and nature were a delight and a pleasure because of their ephemeral, shifting, capricious nature, which made Syl so special – and later Pattern. But when our point of view characters are trapped in Shadesmar and realise that the spren had a very human set of geography and technology and social structure deprived them of that mythic caprice which they had. The mystical became scientific. Hence, a midichlorian moment. To see the deadeye manifestation of Adolin’s Shardblade, compared to the conscious Syl, was powerful but the novel spent too long with the main characters out of reach. It was narratively necessary to put them there – and it led to one of the most thrilling moments for Dalinar in the series so far – but was it necessary to show them there step-by-slow-step?

And the other thing that irked me? Over-powered characters. Stormlight overpowers characters. They can fly and fight and create illusions, sure, but at a mundane and physical level they seem to be invulnerable: when the climactic battle occurs

The thunderclast’s palm crashed down on Renarin, smashing him. Adolin screamed, but his brother’s Shardblade cut up through the palm, the separated the hand from the wrist.

The thunderclast trumpeted in anger as Renarin climbed from the rubble of the hand. He seemed to heal more quickly than Kaladin or Shallan did, as if being crushed wasn’t even a bother.

Obviously, the stormlight can run out and characters have only a finite access to that power… but even so… I suppose that is why Odium was needed as a world-shattering character: anything less would pose no threat at all to our heroes.

So, in brief, yes a great read which does pay off dividends on the significant investment of time. Not without its issues, but generally a vast and sprawling epic with engaging characters. The sort of ambitious project which only a master of the fantasy genre could pull off even half so well.

Publisher: Gollancz

Date 16th November 2017

Available: Amazon

 I’ve been considering reading this for a while.  I do like Sanderson’s world building, especially in the Mistborn series; I also have a penchant for superheroes, dating back to a misspent youth. Sanderson’s take on superheroes was appealing and tempting, especially as the sequel to Steelheart, entitled Firefight, came out in January this year. 

And yet… For some reason I’ve hesitated, not quite prepared to part with cold hard cash for it. Thank goodness for libraries! Got the book out, paid nothing. And, in all honesty, I’m glad I didn’t pay for it.

So, the basic premise is that something called Calamity appeared in the sky and people were gifted the powers we are so familiar with from superhero movies: Steelheart himself has very obvious echoes of Superman with invulnerability, flight, strength and energy bolts, albeit from his hands, flapping cape. He also has the ability to turn matter to steal. We also come across characters who can phase through walls and command shadows, create illusions and turn invisible, generate electricity, and demonstrate precognition. We also hear of people with powers to control earth or fire, to heal or to reduce people to ash with a thought or a pointed finger. These gifted people become known as Epics and quickly become warped, homicidal and power-hungry. 

A small group of rebels known as The Reckoners and led by the enigmatic Prof try to fight back by eliminating individual Epics. The novel commences as David infiltrates the Reckoners and shares his plan to defeat Steelheart. 

This is very much a Young Adult read: it rattles along with the pace of a computer game from set piece battle to set piece battle. The pace, however, led to somewhat two dimensional characters for me, again reminiscent of video game stock characters: a tank sporting an oversized gun, a sharpshooter, a hacker, a planner. There was never any time to feel as if I knew them, or even that there was anything to know. 

Sanderson’s world here was also not an original world such as he created in the Mistborn or Way of Kings. It is Chicago, transformed to steel by Steelheart and cloaked in eternal night. Sanderson does like to identify his worlds with individual features: the ash and fog of Mistborn; the rock and winds of The Way Of Kings; and now this steel cityscape. 

In many ways, Steelheart feels very similar to Mistborn: a city dominated by an apparently invincible tyrant; a plucky band of rebels; mysterious powers. What it lacks though was the charisma of Kelsier or the depth and humanity of Vin. The Prof and David simply didn’t have the same power. 

There are some fabulous and thoughtful Young Adult books out there – nodding to Phillip Pullman and Patrick Ness, Julie Berry’s All The Truth That’s In Me – and some cracking fun one – Derek Landy and Skulduggery Pleasant. This book falls somewhere in the middle. It is a decent read but it takes itself too seriously to be joyously fun and doesn’t have the depth to really explore the characters. 

And it really annoyed me that Sanderson – or David anyway – cannot differentiate between a simile and a metaphor. It is David’s character trait that his similes are lame: 

“Wow,” I said. “It’s like … A banana farm for guns.”
“A banana farm, Megan said flatly. 
“Sure. You know, how bananas grow from their trees and hang down and stuff?”
“Knees, you suck at metaphors.”
I blushed. An art gallery, I thought. I should have said “like an art gallery for guns.”

These are not metaphors. Similes!

Fantasy is a difficult genre to keep fresh. Tolkien looms as an edifice; George R. R. Martin, similarly. Sanderson is a fresh voice within that genre: like Martin, he eschews the vague mystical nature of Tolkien’s magic and fantasy races; unlike Martin, the magic is a central facet of his world-building and he eschews the more human and secular politics of the great houses.

My problem with Sanderson is that his magic system actually takes centre stage and those small things like plot, character, dialogue and pacing come across as secondary.

Now, I have a memory – actually, more than that – with a quick google search, the article I vaguely remembered is linked here – that Sanderson has strong view on magic systems. He consciously crafts them as systems with rules and limits so that he can’t deploy them as dei ex machina to resurrect or rescue characters or to resolve plotholes. Well, that’s fair enough; I respect that.


So let’s look at Sanderson’s system in the Stormlight Archive thus far. The physical and emotional forces of this world are personified and given brief physical form called spren. Fire, wind and rain; fear, glory and creativity. These are mainly mindless manifestations but some spren it appears are able to bond with humans who exemplify particular ideals. So, Sylphrena, an honourspren, bonds with Kaladin who is honourable; and Pattern, a liespren (also known as a cryptic), bonds with Shallan who has deceived herself about her mother’s death. The bonding creates a symbiotic relationship: the spren gain sentience in the physical world; the humans gain the superhuman powers of the ancient and mythical Knights Radiant. Absorbing stormlight stored in spheres (or directly from the storms which ravage the world), Kaladin can manipulate gravity and bind objects together whilst Shallan can create illusions. It seems that all these bound characters are stronger, can move faster, and heal almost instantaneously.

Now, I understand that. It’s a comprehensible system with scope to expand: there were ten original orders of Knight Radiant and we’ve only really seen two although Sanderson’s Interludes often show us other bound characters briefly to hint at their powers.

What stopped the book succeeding, for me, was that there wasn’t much else apart from exploring this magic system going on here!

Let’s look at plot and character. Nothing much has really happened since the end of The Way Of Kings. Shallan has made her way to the Shattered Plains and met Kaladin. A number of duels were fought. Meetings were held. Rushed into the last five or six of the eighty-or-so chapters, Dalinar goes to war, discovers a lost city and chats to the spren of the storm. There’s an attempt to tempt Kaladin to become embroiled in a plot to kill the King whose safety (as a bodyguard) is his duty. Personally, I found that temptation utterly unconvincing: there was so much put in to try to give credibility to that temptation – the King is claimed to be responsible for some innocent deaths, imprisons Kaladin unfairly, then is revealed to have (indirectly) put in place a train of events that had led to the disgrace of Kaladin’s father, his brother’s death and his own enslavement. The piling up of these reasons smacked of desperation on Sanderson’s part, almost as if he or his editor found his decision to facilitate the King’s assassination just as unconvincing as I did.

So, Kaladin’s moral dilemma was not convincing. Let’s turn to look at Shallan, the other main point-of-view character. Just as flashbacks in The Way Of Kings revealed Kaladin’s backstory, in Words of Radiance, the flashbacks reveal Shallan’s backstory. There’s some interest in that: the young daughter of a bullying abusive father. It is not incomprehensible that such a victim could adopt a light hearted persona to protect herself. The fluidity of her identity – being a Knight Radiant, she is able to create illusory disguises and identities – is actually intriguing: one of her disguises is dubbed Veil and Shallan wishes Veil were with her at one point; and towards the end her dual-identity is discovered and one character tells her that Veil is her true character and Shallan the disguise. I’m hoping Sanderson develops that point.

So, despite some interest, I do find Sanderson’s characters very two dimensional and his capacity to add depth and conflict unconvincing.

What about the language though? Alas, for me, this is a massive problem: his language is cliché-ridden and repetitive and his dialogue awkward and unconvincing. There are only so many times that you can describe the tempest within when characters breathe in stormlight. Characters can only be described as broken so many times. Descriptions of dialogue overused the word said far more than I’d have allowed a student I teach. In fairness, I listened to rather than read this book – narrated by Michael Kramer and Kate Reading – and I found Kramer’s delivery so ponderous I actually listened to it on 1.5 x normal speed! It is not impossible that his delivery may have emphasised things which the eye would have skimmed over. But Sanderson’s decision to use the storms as the central motif and linguistic theme does make his language repetitive.

I started this by talking about originality and giving Sanderson credit for originality within the genre. I am worried about how original he is between his own worlds. There are parallels between this and his earlier Mistborn trilogy: a similarly regulated magic system; a similar shift from a human story in the first book to a more cosmic scope by the final book; a similarly shattered world. The Mistborn world was revealed to have been earth-like once but reduced to an ashen world aeons before the final book reclaimed its verdancy. The Stormlight world is a stoney one inhabited by mainly crustaceans instead of mammals. There have been references once or twice to mythical creatures in children’s stories that resemble lions and questions raised about the use of the word hound to describe the reptilian axehounds kept as pets or hunting beasts.


Are these hints of a lost world which Kaladin and Shallan will eventually reclaim as Vin did for the Mistborn world?

Will I read the final book? Yes. Yes I’m sure I will when it is published, for the sense of satisfaction that completing a cycle gives. I am not, however, convinced that I actually like or care about Shallan or Kaladin as much as I’d like to.

One last observation: one criticism often levelled at fantasy (in addition to two-dimensional characters and weak dialogue) is the doctrine of the improbable resurrection. Tolkien’s resurrection of Gandalf the Grey as Gandalf the White is sometimes cited as an example. X-Men and Marvel heroes rarely stay dead. In this book, Sanderson gives us not one but two improbable resurrections.

For someone who dislikes dei ex machina, to use a piece of unexplained technology to resurrect a character is just as much a ‘cheat’ as Tolkien’s magic!


Brandon Sanderson writes high, epic fiction: huge worlds in which the very nature of the earth is as much a character as the creatures that he inhabits it with.

In the Mistborn trilogy, the ashen and grey polluted earth dominated the tale; here in The Stormlight Archive, his created world is one of rock and storm.

High Storms ravage the land on a vaguely predictable pattern from East to West bringing torrential rain and violent winds on a massive scale. The flora and fauna inhabiting this world are adapted to it: molluscs and crablike beasts take the place of cattle, dogs and beasts of burden; plants that burrow into the rock and retract back into it when the vibrations of a storm or an approaching footstep disturbs them. The High Storms dominate characters’ lives, shapes their buildings and influences their language.

The High Storms have a more than meteorological significance though. The Chronicle itself is named the Stormlight Chronicle and the storms provide some form of energy which can become stored within gemstones and generate light and then deployed elsewhere to power a range of devices: reed pens to communicate across distances; fantastic suits of shardplate armour; mystical soulcasters which can convert objects from one form to another.

It is a massive universe that Sanderson has created – far too huge for a review to summarise – replete with mythology, history and even a pre-history which is all a bit of a struggle to keep straight in your head. Fortunately, Sanderson seems to have woven an interpretation of his world’s legends – Heralds and Knights Radiant and Voidbringers – into the thrust of his narrative. He continually circles around them; two of his main characters, Jasnah Kholin and the point-of-view character Shallan Davar, are historians who can keep the reader abreast of the history and mythology.

Another massive feature of the world – one which seems likely to have a huge bearing on the overarching plot development – are the spren. Spren are like elemental personifications associated with fire, wind, rain and decay as well as personal emotions such as glory, fear, pain and honour. Whilst they are deemed by the inhabitants of the book as mindless, at least one becomes a meaningful rounded character in her own right: Syl whose association with Kaladin brings out his powers.

Thus far, there is no real magic system in the novel … and I say that advisedly! All supernatural powers are derived from technology: shardplates enhance the wearer’s strength and speed but are powered through the Stormlight; engineered fabrioles recreate powers that would otherwise seem mystical.

There is, however, clearly the potential for magic: characters who can recreate the power if these fabrioles through some innate ability. Kaladin and Szeth are both able to breathe in Stormlight to enhance their speed, strength and skills, known as Surgebinding; Jasnah and Shallan can both soulcast without soulcasters.

The thrust of this book – the first of ten apparently – is to introduce this universe and manoeuvre all the characters together. By the end, Kaladin has come into his powers and been promoted (from slave and bridgeman) to Dalinar Kohlin’s honour guard at The Shattered Plains; Shallan and Jasnah Kohlin (Dalinar’s niece) are shipping out to meet Dalinar there; and Szeth has also been dispatched there.

Nothing truly has happened after the end of 26 hours of audiobook: a vague sense of threat exists but no real antagonist; the rivalries between princes and noble houses seem – no doubt deliberately – rather petty against the hints of a cataclysmic threat. The pace of the book was good in the main part but Sanderson recounted six years of Kaladin’s life in flashbacks placed through the book which I found increasingly and unnecessarily slowed the pace: we didn’t need multiple flashbacks of his life in Hearthstone. I found myself glazing over a little as these came on and thinking about things like work instead. The whole point of playing these books is to avoid thinking about work!

Sanderson does a good job in creating characters: Kaladin, the natural leader who is also plagued by bouts of despair and self-doubt; Dalinar, the natural warrior, plagued by dreams and visions that make him doubt his role; Jasnah, the hawklike heretic and scholar with a hidden and devastating power within her grip; Wit, the King’s ‘Jester’ who seems to know far more than he should. They are a little two-dimensional but engaging: not as engaging as Mistborn’s Vin or Kelsier though.

Wit at one point introduces himself to Kaladin as Hoid, a recurrent character in Sanderson’s work who regularly seems to adopt the same itinerant knowing position. Apparently, he acts as informant in various places within the Mistborn universe too and Sanderson has plans for writing his story as a parallel to that on Vin!

The language used in The Way Of Kings is a little formulaic in places: the Shardblades always form after ten heartbeats with mist beading along their length; Szeth and Kaladin breathe in the Stormlight and always feel the tempest storming within them; the victims of the Shardblades have their eyes burned out. Perhaps these formulaic phrases were more apparent because I listened to it as an audiobook but I did find it irksome that these moments, which I appreciate Sanderson wants to make iconic, weren’t described with a little more variety. There also seems a lot of explanation, repetition and exposition: with just so much background to cover, I suppose Sanderson needs to do this – up to a point. But again I feel that the balance is just a little out.

Overall, however, for the sheer scale of the universe – and the variety of worlds within it which we glimpse in the interludes – and it’s mythology, for its engaging characters, for its sense of apocalypse, it is a strong book and I’ll look forward to its future instalments.