Book Alert: Troy (I) Lord Of The Silver Bow
I suppose David Gemmell is often thought of as some sort of fantasy (well, perhaps sword and sorcery to be more definite) hack. There must be scores of readers who look at his impressive oeuvre and decide (as they sometimes do with Terry Pratchett) that he can't be worth much, since he seems to churn out a book or two every year.
Yes, he does. Perhaps not every year, yet often enough to make it seem that way. But most of them are very good books. He uses similar structures and formulae each time, but it is more a limitation of the genre than of his ability to bring interesting characters to life. They're not always the easiest books to get into - it took me ages to essay the daunting task - but some of them are remarkably difficult to leave once entered.
This latest offering is a case in point. The protagonist is Helikaon, Lord of the Silver Bow (typical fantasy title, scoff scoff, some will say); he is a typical Gemmell hero haunted by a painful past, and this combines with the ubiquity of the subject matter (as, for example, in the terrible movie which was the Pitt's) to form a slight prejudice that this can't be any good. But Helikaon is also Aeneas of Dardania, that odd and slightly peripheral character in Homer's Iliad who turns into the grand hero of Virgil's Aeneid. The choice of focus alone alerts the mind to the likelihood that not all is as it seems.
Indeed, we see a lot more of Troy, that great Asian city of the Age of Heroes, than we normally do in other books on that matter. The Trojan War is but a cloud on the horizon as Gemmell painstakingly sets the stage for the showdown between cruel Agamemnon, lord of the Mykene and haughty Priam, father of Troy. All the motivations we never saw are here, in many subtle shades. Aeneas falls in love with Andromache, who is to wed doomed Hektor; Paris, still a little boy, makes friends with the young princess Helen and wonders why she might have to go home and marry someone else.
Along the way, political intrigue and the dark promptings which drive men into horror and barbarism are woven like black fire into the golden tapestry of the age. Swarthy Moses of Egypt stands besides bright Helikaon as they repel assassins and Mycenaean shock troops in the throne room of Troy. Acts of heroism flash against atrocities which are made more evil by contrast. We often forget that the past was frequently far more unrestrained than the present when it came to bloodshed and torment.
The plot is halfway familiar to us. We have seen too many bad movies and read too many bad novels for it not to be at all familiar. But Harold Bloom once pointed out that it was Shakespeare who improved on all other writers and bards before him by inventing the three-dimensional human character in literature. David Gemmell has taken up the challenge of improving on Homer, and he is succeeding - Lord of the Silver Bow is the first of a trilogy, and unlike the tendency of most trilogies, it appears that Part II (Shield of Thunder) might well be even better than Part I. The prose is modern and less elegant than Homer's; it is not even near Derek Walcott's rendition or that of E V Rieu. But Gemmell is his own man, and it is the story that carries the day without need for classical classiness or finicky finesse.
Minor character Banokles says this about Odysseus, king of Ithaka, "I swear he could weave a magical tale about taking a sh-- in a swamp." Typical soldier's humour, that - and yet, I suspect it might also be true of David Gemmell, who put those words in that mouth.
Yes, he does. Perhaps not every year, yet often enough to make it seem that way. But most of them are very good books. He uses similar structures and formulae each time, but it is more a limitation of the genre than of his ability to bring interesting characters to life. They're not always the easiest books to get into - it took me ages to essay the daunting task - but some of them are remarkably difficult to leave once entered.
This latest offering is a case in point. The protagonist is Helikaon, Lord of the Silver Bow (typical fantasy title, scoff scoff, some will say); he is a typical Gemmell hero haunted by a painful past, and this combines with the ubiquity of the subject matter (as, for example, in the terrible movie which was the Pitt's) to form a slight prejudice that this can't be any good. But Helikaon is also Aeneas of Dardania, that odd and slightly peripheral character in Homer's Iliad who turns into the grand hero of Virgil's Aeneid. The choice of focus alone alerts the mind to the likelihood that not all is as it seems.
Indeed, we see a lot more of Troy, that great Asian city of the Age of Heroes, than we normally do in other books on that matter. The Trojan War is but a cloud on the horizon as Gemmell painstakingly sets the stage for the showdown between cruel Agamemnon, lord of the Mykene and haughty Priam, father of Troy. All the motivations we never saw are here, in many subtle shades. Aeneas falls in love with Andromache, who is to wed doomed Hektor; Paris, still a little boy, makes friends with the young princess Helen and wonders why she might have to go home and marry someone else.
Along the way, political intrigue and the dark promptings which drive men into horror and barbarism are woven like black fire into the golden tapestry of the age. Swarthy Moses of Egypt stands besides bright Helikaon as they repel assassins and Mycenaean shock troops in the throne room of Troy. Acts of heroism flash against atrocities which are made more evil by contrast. We often forget that the past was frequently far more unrestrained than the present when it came to bloodshed and torment.
The plot is halfway familiar to us. We have seen too many bad movies and read too many bad novels for it not to be at all familiar. But Harold Bloom once pointed out that it was Shakespeare who improved on all other writers and bards before him by inventing the three-dimensional human character in literature. David Gemmell has taken up the challenge of improving on Homer, and he is succeeding - Lord of the Silver Bow is the first of a trilogy, and unlike the tendency of most trilogies, it appears that Part II (Shield of Thunder) might well be even better than Part I. The prose is modern and less elegant than Homer's; it is not even near Derek Walcott's rendition or that of E V Rieu. But Gemmell is his own man, and it is the story that carries the day without need for classical classiness or finicky finesse.
Minor character Banokles says this about Odysseus, king of Ithaka, "I swear he could weave a magical tale about taking a sh-- in a swamp." Typical soldier's humour, that - and yet, I suspect it might also be true of David Gemmell, who put those words in that mouth.
etched with acid at 6:21:00 pm
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