The good news is that so little of consequence to the larger plot actually happens here that the sequel could almost be a standalone novel. But beneath that flair is an unambitious first-of-a-series fantasy novel which ends just as it starts to get interesting. I didn't hate The Blade Itself - it has memorable passages and some fun prose. Here is another one - The Blade Itself is not as good as Game of Thrones. In fact, all the violence in The Blade Itself is just that little bit grittier than average.Īll this, along with the heavy emphasis on the political system in Adua has lead to some comparisons to the Game of Thrones series. Speaking of stuff happening, one of the point of view characters is a professional torturer and the scenes where he plies his trade made me very uncomfortable. And the book is not boring - stuff does happen, just don't expect it to lead anywhere until the sequels.
Abercrombie also has a particular flair for naming things, which is important in a made-up world. The prose reads more like a hard-boiled crime novel than the normal fantasy romp, with well sketched, larger than life characters spitting tough-as-nails dialog at each other. What somewhat redeems The Blade Itself is the writing. But nobody's story is complete, nobody really grows, and none of the mysteries that are hinted at are ever resolved. I mean, stuff happens, enemies are vanquished, most (but not all) of the major characters meet and decide on a course of action. Can characters such as the barbarian Logen Ninefingers, aged wizard Bayaz, and dashing but callow nobleman Jezal dan Luthar save the kingdom?įucked if I know, because The Blade Itself is one of those depressingly common non-novels that spend 500 pages setting up the pieces for the next book without really telling much of a story themselves. The wild clans of the North have been united, rumors of a powerful evil in the South persist, but the political class is deadlocked. Excerpt from The Blade Itself by Joe AbercrombieĪdua, the capital of the Union, is beset with intrigue while external threats from all sides threaten the fragile stability it fought for. An arrow came looping out of the trees and stuck it through the neck, and it let go a squeal and sprawled out backwards. He saw Dow spit another through the back with his sword, but there was a big Shanka now with a spear ready to throw. He let loose his shaft at the nearest Flathead, just reaching for a big club, and watched it catch it through the armpit with a satisfying thunk.
Dogman reckoned that would have to do for a signal. In so far as you could tell what a Shanka was thinking, these ones looked greatly surprised. "Fucking Flatheads!” he screamed, giving the nearest a fearsome big blow in the head and splattering blood across the clearing.
0 kommentar(er)
