The Anvil of the World is not quite a novel, but rather three novellas, printed chronologically and linked by their cast of characters. I have a minor quibble with Tor in this matter, because the entire volume is divided only by line breaks, with a page break and a graphic of two swords crossing to indicate the start of the next novella, which made finding my page after I had set the book down rather difficult. (I don't use bookmarks.) It also made it less clear that that was to be the structure. If you go into reading this volume expecting a novel, it will seem extremely choppy, so be warned.
That said, the first novella takes the form of a traveller's tale and an adventure story; it serves as a wonderful introduction to the characters and the world. In it we meet Smith, who has just accepted the role of Caravan Master for his cousin; we meet his caravan Culinary Artist, Mrs. Smith; we meet his subordinates, both the muscle-boudn keymen and very young girl runner; and we meet his passengers, a family named Smith, a courier named Parradan Smith, a Yendri (a green-skinned forest-dwelling race) with his nose stuck up in the air, and Lord Ermenwyr and his (extremely attractive) nurse. Despite what the dust jacket says, none of these Smiths are related; they are all indeed Children of the Sun (humans) but none have ever met before and some (including our Caravan Master) are using Smith as an alias. ("Lovely impersonal name, Smith. Rather fond of it myself," says Mrs. Smith to Smith the Caravan Master after he refused to give her his first name.) Needless to say, Smith's first Caravan does not go well; they are attacked repeatedly, and not all of his passengers will arrive with him in Salesh-by-the-Sea, not least because few of them are who they seem.
What is so delightful about this first novella is the world we get to see through it. There has been a trend the past few decades towards more and more realism in fantasy writing -- a trend that has gone so far that books and seminars on fantasy writing always include basic rules for world-building, so that the budding writer doesn't make "mistakes" with geography, language groups, systems of magic, etc. Kage Baker throws that realism out of the window. From the very first page, when she describes how Troon's main event is the Festival of Respirator Masks, she dares us to complain about anachronisms and probability. There is magic aplenty, but no rules are ever laid-out to take its magic away and make it seem like paint-by-numbers; there are technologies side by side that were never seen side by side in our world.
The first novella ends when the caravan reaches Salesh-by-the-Sea; the next picks up several months later, as Smith, Mrs. Smith, his keymen and his runner have given up the caravan life and are now running an inn (already known for its restaurant) in Salesh-by-the-Sea. This second novella has a different structure; Lord Ermenwyr, who is now their patron, arrives to hide out during the Festival, and within hours of his arrival Smith has a dead body on his hands and a grumpy City Warden who has charged Smith with finding the killer by the end of Festival or he won't receive his Safety Certificate. Hilarity ensues, as Smith tries to question his guests and staff in the midst of total debauchery -- the traditional salutation during Festival in Salesh is "Joyous Couplings!" and the traditional costume is a bit of body paint and glitter. I giggled the entire way, enjoyed the revelations about Mrs. Smith's and Burnbright's pasts, and absolutely adored the introduction of Lord Ermenwyr's older brother.
The third novella takes up approximately 9 months after the Festival, but its tone is entirely different from the two novellas that came before, and this abrupt shift in tone is what you must be prepared for. Again Lord Ermenwyr's arrival heralds difficulties for poor Smith and his staff, but this time instead of hilarity we hear grumblings of race riots between the Children of the Sun and the Yendri and the whisper of a Key of Unmaking. The Yendri and the older races (demons, etc.) have always despised the Children of the Sun, for they breed like rabbits (they don't have any conception of birth control) and they decimate the land they settle on like a plague of locusts (they don't have any conception of crop rotation either), and the decision by a real estate company to build a new development on Yendri holy ground is not taken well.
But just as events are coming to a head in Salesh, Lord Ermenwyr abducts Smith for a boat trip to rescue his sister Svnae, of the short story "The Ruby Incomparable" that I loved so dearly in Wizards: Magical Tales from the Masters of Modern Fantasy. The trip does not go as planned, nor is Lord Ermenwyr being entirely honest with Smith; the Master of the Mountain and the Green Saint make an appearance, and even the gods (of both the Children of the Sun and the other races) get involved in what quickly ramps up to an end-of-the-world scenario.
And while that may make the third novella the most seemingly traditional of fantasy plots, the effect is anything but. The forces arrayed on either side of the conflict have very just and valid points, and it is not magic at the center of things but very human decisions. We are told from the first page that the Children of the Sun are "an energetic, sanguine, and mechanically minded people. . . They were consequently given to sins of an ecological nature. . ." Given that, Baker poses the following questions: how much can we blame these "children" for their ignorance, even when the consequences are dire? How much is that blame lessened (if any) if there are other peoples that do know better and, instead of relieving the ignorance they see, they withdraw into themselves or grow violent? It was a difficult story to read at 2am, especially coming on the heels of the delightful farce that was the second novella. It was also quite possibly the best thing by Baker that I have ever read, and I adored Sky Coyote. The Anvil of the World would have been a keeper (in hardcover) for the first two novellas alone; given the third, I have to give it my highest recommendation.
That said, the first novella takes the form of a traveller's tale and an adventure story; it serves as a wonderful introduction to the characters and the world. In it we meet Smith, who has just accepted the role of Caravan Master for his cousin; we meet his caravan Culinary Artist, Mrs. Smith; we meet his subordinates, both the muscle-boudn keymen and very young girl runner; and we meet his passengers, a family named Smith, a courier named Parradan Smith, a Yendri (a green-skinned forest-dwelling race) with his nose stuck up in the air, and Lord Ermenwyr and his (extremely attractive) nurse. Despite what the dust jacket says, none of these Smiths are related; they are all indeed Children of the Sun (humans) but none have ever met before and some (including our Caravan Master) are using Smith as an alias. ("Lovely impersonal name, Smith. Rather fond of it myself," says Mrs. Smith to Smith the Caravan Master after he refused to give her his first name.) Needless to say, Smith's first Caravan does not go well; they are attacked repeatedly, and not all of his passengers will arrive with him in Salesh-by-the-Sea, not least because few of them are who they seem.
What is so delightful about this first novella is the world we get to see through it. There has been a trend the past few decades towards more and more realism in fantasy writing -- a trend that has gone so far that books and seminars on fantasy writing always include basic rules for world-building, so that the budding writer doesn't make "mistakes" with geography, language groups, systems of magic, etc. Kage Baker throws that realism out of the window. From the very first page, when she describes how Troon's main event is the Festival of Respirator Masks, she dares us to complain about anachronisms and probability. There is magic aplenty, but no rules are ever laid-out to take its magic away and make it seem like paint-by-numbers; there are technologies side by side that were never seen side by side in our world.
The first novella ends when the caravan reaches Salesh-by-the-Sea; the next picks up several months later, as Smith, Mrs. Smith, his keymen and his runner have given up the caravan life and are now running an inn (already known for its restaurant) in Salesh-by-the-Sea. This second novella has a different structure; Lord Ermenwyr, who is now their patron, arrives to hide out during the Festival, and within hours of his arrival Smith has a dead body on his hands and a grumpy City Warden who has charged Smith with finding the killer by the end of Festival or he won't receive his Safety Certificate. Hilarity ensues, as Smith tries to question his guests and staff in the midst of total debauchery -- the traditional salutation during Festival in Salesh is "Joyous Couplings!" and the traditional costume is a bit of body paint and glitter. I giggled the entire way, enjoyed the revelations about Mrs. Smith's and Burnbright's pasts, and absolutely adored the introduction of Lord Ermenwyr's older brother.
The third novella takes up approximately 9 months after the Festival, but its tone is entirely different from the two novellas that came before, and this abrupt shift in tone is what you must be prepared for. Again Lord Ermenwyr's arrival heralds difficulties for poor Smith and his staff, but this time instead of hilarity we hear grumblings of race riots between the Children of the Sun and the Yendri and the whisper of a Key of Unmaking. The Yendri and the older races (demons, etc.) have always despised the Children of the Sun, for they breed like rabbits (they don't have any conception of birth control) and they decimate the land they settle on like a plague of locusts (they don't have any conception of crop rotation either), and the decision by a real estate company to build a new development on Yendri holy ground is not taken well.
But just as events are coming to a head in Salesh, Lord Ermenwyr abducts Smith for a boat trip to rescue his sister Svnae, of the short story "The Ruby Incomparable" that I loved so dearly in Wizards: Magical Tales from the Masters of Modern Fantasy. The trip does not go as planned, nor is Lord Ermenwyr being entirely honest with Smith; the Master of the Mountain and the Green Saint make an appearance, and even the gods (of both the Children of the Sun and the other races) get involved in what quickly ramps up to an end-of-the-world scenario.
And while that may make the third novella the most seemingly traditional of fantasy plots, the effect is anything but. The forces arrayed on either side of the conflict have very just and valid points, and it is not magic at the center of things but very human decisions. We are told from the first page that the Children of the Sun are "an energetic, sanguine, and mechanically minded people. . . They were consequently given to sins of an ecological nature. . ." Given that, Baker poses the following questions: how much can we blame these "children" for their ignorance, even when the consequences are dire? How much is that blame lessened (if any) if there are other peoples that do know better and, instead of relieving the ignorance they see, they withdraw into themselves or grow violent? It was a difficult story to read at 2am, especially coming on the heels of the delightful farce that was the second novella. It was also quite possibly the best thing by Baker that I have ever read, and I adored Sky Coyote. The Anvil of the World would have been a keeper (in hardcover) for the first two novellas alone; given the third, I have to give it my highest recommendation.
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