THE WILL OF THE WANDERER by Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman

The Will of the Wanderer is a 1988 fantasy novel by Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman, the first in their Rose of the Prophet trilogy. Here, a god demands that two warring clans unite through marriage to combat a larger threat.

The Arabian setting is a breath of fresh air in the fantasy genre, which is obviously dominated by Tolkien-influenced analogs of Europe—although all the characters here are, for some reason, still explicitly white. The writers’ desert world is vividly described—it really comes to life—and the swashbuckling action fits the setting well.  

But the writers take these Arabian sensibilities and go way over the top with them. The Will of the Wanderer is a sitcom, a romantic comedy largely devoid of romance (it’s not very funny, either). Nearly every character is conveniently clueless; nearly everyone’s response to most any development is an emotional knee-jerk overreaction or something comparably ridiculous. The world is thoroughly populated by cartoon characters, mortal and immortal alike. This can make it hard to invest in the dramatic proceedings.

The plot, which operates on two levels—one with the gods and one with the humans—works well enough, although it gets pulled down by all the aforementioned frustrating buffoonery, without which nearly all the conflict would be satisfactorily resolved by the end of this volume. Moreover, the silly tone the authors use to handle their gods, faith, and religions might come across to the reader as mocking of real-world religion and its establishments, whether intentional or not.

In sum, then, The Will of the Wanderer is a passably entertaining but frequently irritating novel. I won’t be continuing with this trilogy.  

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HE-MAN AND THE MASTERS OF THE UNIVERSE #7–9

***SPOILERS***

He-Man and the Masters of the Universe #7–9 (DC) are written by Dan Abnett and illustrated by Rafael Kayanan and Michael S. O’Hare. Here, when Randor leads an attack on a Horde archaeological dig, Hordak nukes the site from orbit, leading the Heroic Warriors to undertake a forbidden journey to Subternia in an attempt to resurrect the Sorceress. No, seriously.  

From the first panel, Abnett tries to go high fantasy with the dialogue and narration. You’ll recall that Giffen did too—sometimes. Abnett, at least, is consistent, and so it works a lot better. The scripting isn’t anything fantastic, but there’s a conspicuous absence of any petty bickering. In fact, Abnett’s Teela isn’t too far off from the 200X Teela: sassy, but not obnoxious so. On the heels of the complete disaster that was Giffen’s scripting, this is a major upgrade that imbues every page of these comics with the refreshing breeze of not flagrantly sucking.  

Beyond the fact that on the face of it, it doesn’t make a lot of sense, the plot is also fair; I’m not sorry to move the story away from the Horde for a while. Unfortunately, the pace isn’t great. There’s too much fighting and too much expository speechifying (including a great deal of mystical mumbo jumbo concerning the Goddess). Since we’re not getting any character development for any of these people, we need to be getting a good amount of storytelling accomplished, and we just aren’t—there seems to be a ton of ground to cover (or to skip over) to resolve this storyline by the end of #12.   

Other thoughts on the writing: Iron Pants He-Man still isn’t doing much; he’s just part of the team. In fact, it’s obvious who the most powerful of the Heroic Warriors is: Moss Man. For reals. It’s not even close. And everybody just calls Iron Pants He-Man “Adam.” Given all this, it might be time to retitle the book. If you don’t like Adam and the Masters of the Universe, plain old Masters of the Universe would certainly fit better, as would, perhaps, Justice League of Eternia.

The decision to make Grizzlor, of all people, the Horde’s sophisticated tactician is an interesting one, but it works well enough. Man-At-Arms is conspicuous by his absence, although Randor fills his role as the group’s strategic planner, wearer of sweet knobbly armor, and  one that has a gun. Abnett also seems to be going out of his way to drop these characters’ “real” names from the MOTU Classics line whenever possible. Gur’rull Gu’rroooow? Sure, buddy. Whatever you want. Also, we really could have used some better editing.

Kayanan does the art for #7 and #8. There are some nice touches: a lot of the classic vehicles appear, for example, and Grizzlor’s cloak is clearly made from the Mattel Fright Zone dragon puppet (but why does Stratos look like Spider-Man?). However, Kayanan uses heavy, messy inks, his figures often look flat, and his human faces aren’t good at all—it’s an ugly style that doesn’t work for me at all. It also makes for a jarring transition to O’Hare’s art in #9, which is clean, bright, and vibrant. It’s a style that fits what He-Man is supposed to be all about (although…would one background be too much to ask for?). The short-term good news is that O’Hare is listed as the artist on #10–12. The only other art-related comment I have is that the cover for #7 is probably the worst I’ve seen since Marvel put Hordak’s giant head on the cover of Masters of the Universe #4 (in which he didn’t even appear) in 1986.

So then: while these are, overall, some pretty mediocre comics, they’re also the most unterrible He-Man comics we’ve seen in many moons. By God, these things are readable. I’ve been subjected to too much to get my hopes up, but #10–12 certainly have the potential to be the most unterrible comics yet.

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FORGING THE DARKSWORD by Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman

Forging the Darksword is a 1987 fantasy novel by Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman, the first in their Darksword trilogy. Here, in a world where nearly everyone has some sort of magical power, the crown prince is born without it; thus a candidate to fulfill a prophecy of the world’s destruction, he’s sentenced to death.

A world where everyone has magic is reasonably fertile storytelling ground, and to their credit, the authors have created it in such a way that it bears no resemblance whatsoever to Piers Anthony’s Xanth world, which is what the basic premise calls immediately to mind. The authors have also done a thorough job of setting up this world’s society. In spite of their best efforts, however, the characters’ dread of even rudimentary technology feels a little bit silly. I suppose there’s a half-formed commentary on superstition and religious oppression in here that’s scheduled to be born in a later volume.

The plotting is Forging the Darksword’s most serious problem. The first third of the book is bogged down in exposition, as so often happens with fantasy works, but that’s hardly the worst of it. There are too many unnecessary scenes to list, ones that don’t advance the plot or the characters in meaningful ways, and as it plods across a generation, the story is just too meandering: many events seem like little more than everyday life, and although there’s some intrigue after the first third, many story elements that are supposed to be mysterious and suspenseful just aren’t. Overall, the book has very little energy, and the reader very well find himself waiting for something meaningful to happen, something important, but little does, and Forging the Darksword ends up feeling like little more than tedious setup for the second book. It piques the interest here and there, but has trouble ever sustaining it.  

The characters are also problematic. Joram isn’t the slightest bit interesting or sympathetic, which is a major deal-breaker given that the trilogy centers around him. Saryon is certainly both, but he’s too passive to have the story center around him. Simkin is a vaguely amusing caricature of Orczy’s Sir Percy Blakeney, and the sort of deus ex machina character these authors like to keep in their back pocket at all times. No one else is remotely compelling; the authors are so secretive about Vanya’s machinations that it’s hard to stay interested in what he’s actually up to.   

The end result is that Forging the Darksword is a slog. (On the bright side, given the way Bantam Spectra has done the plot summaries, you can pretty much just read the back covers of the first two books and then go straight to the third one.) And this review wouldn’t be complete without a mention of the authors’ repeated and jarring abuse of the word “literally.”

As a fan of the Dragonlance and Death Gate Cycle series, I found Forging the Darksword to be a considerable disappointment. There are sparks of life here, but they aren’t enough for me to continue with this series.

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MAJESTIC ISLAND WORLDS

Majestic Island Worlds is a 1987 book by the National Geographic Society. It includes pictorial chapters on the Galapagos Islands, Japan, Ireland, Bali, New Zealand, and Seychelles.

Whether or not you’ll enjoy this book will depend primarily on whether you enjoy the National Geographic brand of slice-of-life/vignette travel writing (which, personally, I generally find interesting when I already have some general knowledge about a culture (which this isn’t particularly interested in providing) and somewhat tiresome otherwise).

There are a lot of gorgeous photos here, as you’d expect from National Geographic. In fact, I personally could have done with more pictures and less text. Japan, Bali, and Seychelles are particular highlights.

In short, if you like National Geographic, you’ll like this book. If it doesn’t do much for you, well, this is the internet age, and innumerable fantastic nature photos are just a Google away, and at the risk of sounding like some kind of book-eating savage, you may be better off that way.

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CRESCENT by Homer Hickam

Crescent is a 2013 young-adult science fiction novel by Homer Hickam, the second of his Helium-3 books. Here, Crater befriends an enemy mercenary as he gets into various moon shenanigans.

First, a note: I didn’t particularly care for the first book in the series. I only read Crescent because Hickam saw my two-star review of Crater on Amazon and came and found me on this site. He encouraged me to give the series another chance, and I agreed to read the next one. So here we are.

Crescent is a definite improvement over the first book. Crater himself has become a more interesting character. He’s complex and somewhat inscrutable, he isn’t nearly as insecure as he was in Crater, and he has a number of very good moments. Crescent, too, is a sympathetic and engaging character, even if her arc covers well-trod ground. We do less well with many of the one-dimensional supporting characters – the brutal-dictator-turned-small-time-sheriff is tough to take seriously, and the three slacker legionnaires (whose chapters could have been omitted completely) give us four out of four supposedly-fearsome crowhoppers turned cuddly. The romantic tension and conflict between Crater and Maria fails to generate much interest.  

Again, Hickam’s mining and aerospace background shine through, as he provides immersive detail, good science, and reasonable conjecture about all things related to piloting, the moon, and space.

Apart from this, though, the writing has problems. Conversations are frequently stilted; there aren’t enough contractions. Too much dialogue is “growled.” Most damaging, the story is all over the place, meandering and full of detours. Crater is doing everything – plot element after plot element is picked up, only to fall by the wayside, leaving the reader to wonder what, if anything, is really important to whatever the story might turn out to be. It seems as though Hickam had a number of themes he wanted to hit (if you missed any, he recounts them for you in his author’s note), and so in they went.

Crescent also lacks anything remotely resembling a climax – Hickam assembles his ragtag group and the book ends, leaving the reader to feel like the whole thing’s been little more than setup for what surely must be a more interesting third book.

While I feel that the Helium-3 series is definitely trending upward, Crescent has enough problems that I had something of a hard time just getting through it.

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KING by R. J. Larson

King is a 2013 young-adult fantasy novel by R. J. Larson, the conclusion to her Books of the Infinite trilogy. Here, King Akabe marries into a pagan family to obtain the land to rebuild the Infinite’s temple.

The Infinite himself sits most of this one out – that’s kind of the point, but without all the prophet business, the first half or so of the book is little more than a bunch of political intrigue and self-indulgent feel-goodery, and it doesn’t feel fresh.

Hand-in-hand with this is the plotting, which is a relatively serious issue here. There’s significant padding, as in the other books; Larson spends time on plots that every reader knows aren’t going anywhere – and then brings sudden and anticlimactic resolution to the series’ ongoing romantic subplot. King has no real overarching plot: the book meanders along without much cohesion, and there’s nothing remotely approximating a climax.

All the threat and doom that hung over the protagonist in the first two books is out the window; it’s obvious to the reader by this point that Larson has no intention of following through on any of it. Never mind the contrivedly feel-good ending; in contrast to the first two, there’s not an iota of suspense in this book.

One of Larson’s strengths is the way she handles her multiple lead characters. King has the largest cast in the trilogy, and Ela, Kien, and Akabe are all, for the most part, sympathetic and compelling. (A number of characters are, from time to time, too stupid to live, particularly in terms of their relationships, and Kien and Ela spend a good portion of the book being nigh-insufferable together, but these aren’t quite deal-breakers.)

While Larson did a pretty good job of not being preachy in Prophet and Judge, King feels a little more sanctimonious as Larson gets her characters proselytizing. Many action scenes are not at all well described, which softens the impact of the book’s events. Larson also continues her annoying tendency to change scene right before the end of a chapter in a cheap attempt to manufacture suspense.

On the balance, though, throughout the trilogy, Larson has done an effective job of executing her premise, managing to incorporate God as a character without beating the reader over the head too badly, without making the story too predictable or unforgivably deus ex machina, and without raising too many theological red flags for the Judeo-Christian readership. In this regard, the Books of the Infinite are noteworthy.

King, then, is the weakest entry in a generally solid series that started fresh and full of potential and was generally satisfying in that regard, even as it was content to cling exasperatingly to the safe and saccharine paths of young-adult storytelling.