Pitted against one another, with the people and country they love in jeopardy, the daughter of a deserter and the son of the king have a chance to fulfill their forebears’ legacy—or destroy it entirely.
Twisted monsters called saja lurk in the shadows of the mountains. Rumors say the Fidelis, human wielders of an ancient elemental magic, again walk the plains. Not all in Avaron believe, and not all welcome the return of legend.
Kura’s a skeptic. But, she’ll cross and befriend centaurs, talking animals, and worse to save her family after the rebellion mistakes her for the land’s prophesied savior. And, while he’d rather negotiate with rebels than fight them, Triston can’t ignore prophecy. That was the sham his father used to steal the crown in the first place.
Over a century ago, their ancestors sailed the oceans in search of peace and died as heroes fighting for it. But heroes—and villains—aren’t always what they seem to be.
Devin
I had zero idea what I was getting when I started this book, having gone in without reading any prior reviews or even the cover copy. The only vague impression I had was of a fairly standard fantasy in the traditional sense, but that was not exactly what I got. While there is a brewing war and a chosen one of sorts, and fantasy animals like centaurs, there are also talking animals of every variety, zombies and more lore than you can shake a stick at–even if it was a very big stick and you were waving it very fast. The world of this book is DETAILED and that’s only what you get on the page, which feels like the pared back version of the detail the world actually contains. This is both very enjoyable and not at the same time. I really appreciated the lived in sense of this space, not only in the detail but the kind of detail. It’s a world that doesn’t just have groups, it has factions, it has schisms, it has a detailed history of who wronged who and who said what and why these people disagree. There are multiple religions and everyone has different feelings about them and there are even stereotypes of what this or that person is like that is subtly refuted by the various characters just existing. There are no hard lines, us blends seamlessly into them on the spectrum of personal interests, which leaves you with no idea when anyone truly stands.
There are downsides to this of course. Firstly in the constant need for a glossary to remember what the difference between a forebear, a fidelis and a fonfyr is, for example, especially since there are multiple slightly different variants of pretty much everything and they all have a unique name. There are, as Jared noted, also A LOT of named characters. This is definitely the kind of book you read slowly, taking notes as you go, immersing yourself in the depth of creation. But… that only works if you’re into that kind of thing. And I think in our time-poor capitalist society, few people have even the ability to be into that kind of thing–malazan fans aside, of course.
The other issue with this focus on worldbuilding and on the gradations of human (and talking animal) difference is that our two MCs, Kura and Triston, come to appear increasingly naive and foolhardy for their simplistic positions. For Triston, this disillusionment is the point and part of his character journey from easy-going prince trusting in everyone around him to scarred and angry young man who can’t trust anyone anymore. But while his arc works with the world, Kura seems to just blithely run about from group to group as little more than a tour guide to introduce us to the complex world that will challenge Triston (and his father, the king). Yet she is important enough in the world because of the prophecy-of-sorts-fonfyr-sword-thing that people fight for her, they take risks for her, they die for her–all while she is making very short sighted and seemingly random decisions that steal all weight from her part of the story. Between this and the sheer number of characters introduced, it’s hard to attach to any of them, even our leads, or care much for the outcomes.
All in all this book’s strength is definitely worldbuilding and if you take the time to explore it slowly some of it is really fascinating. Its plot, on the other hand, feels a bit like Kura, darting from one thing to another on weak reasoning only to flit away somewhere else as soon as it gets there. Given the backstories and details of some of the characters, it’s a shame they aren’t developed as much as the world (perhaps due to the sheer number of them) because to me they read like the sort of characters that are interesting on paper but dull in actuality. But hey, there’s a talking horse that shit-talks the non-talking horses, so that has to count for something.
I’m giving Fire of the Forebears a 6.
Jared
There’s an incredibly robust amount of world-building in Fire of the Forebears – leaving the impression that 500+ pages is barely scratching the surface. Fans of worlds filled with adventurous possibilities that are not simply D&D-with-the-numbers-filed-offl will certainly be intrigued. Forebears features talking animals, powerful elemental sorcery, legendary weapons… all imbued with an immense amount of deep lore.
Sometimes an epic book feels epic, and sometimes, well, it feels very long. I’m afraid Fire of the Forebears fits into the latter category. Every scene is full of detail: I’m not sure there’s a single unnamed character in the entire book. The consequence is that, to paraphrase, weird, quasi-Objectivist philosophy of The Incredibles: if everyone is special, no one is. The blizzard of information detracts from two main characters (Kura and Triston) that already struggle for presence. This is a world where there is a lot going on, yet somehow gives the impression of only skimming the surface. Reading it, I felt overwhelmed with information, but also frustrated that nothing was actually happening.
I absolutely loathe using the phrase ‘not for me’. Reviews are subjective (and if you think they’re not, it isn’t healthy for you to be reading them). I can see the appeal of Fire of the Forebears and how readers could appreciate its density and ambition. And there’s nothing overtly unappealing about it: this book is a throwback epic made for winter nights and toasty fires. It feels like a labour of love, but, sadly, the bulk of that labour is focused on the elements of storytelling that don’t particularly appeal to me. So, as they say: ‘not for me’.
As I didn’t finish it, I’m not scoring this one, and will leave it to Devin.
The Fantasy Inn’s final score for A Touch of Light is:
6/10
