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The Last Chronicles of Thomas Covenant #2
Fatal Revenant
Linden Avery watches from a balcony while Thomas Covenant and her adopted son, Jeremiah, ride desperately toward Revelstone. But their reunion has vast consequences which she could not have foreseen.
728 pages, Paperback
First published October 9, 2007
231 people are currently reading
3614 people want to read
About the author
Stephen R. Donaldson
134 books2,710 followersStephen Reeder Donaldson is an American fantasy, science fiction, and mystery novelist; in the United Kingdom he is usually called "Stephen Donaldson" (without the "R"). He has also written non-fiction under the pen name Reed Stephens.
EARLY LIFE AND EDUCATION:
Stephen R. Donaldson was born May 13, 1947 in Cleveland, Ohio. His father, James, was a medical missionary and his mother, Ruth, a prosthetist (a person skilled in making or fitting prosthetic devices). Donaldson spent the years between the ages of 3 and 16 living in India, where his father was working as an orthopaedic surgeon. Donaldson earned his bachelor's degree from The College of Wooster and master's degree from Kent State University.
INSPIRATIONS:
Donaldson's work is heavily influenced by other fantasy authors such as J.R.R. Tolkien, Roger Zelazny, Joseph Conrad, Henry James, and William Faulkner. The writers he most admires are Patricia A. McKillip, Steven Erikson, and Tim Powers.
It is believed that a speech his father made on leprosy (whilst working with lepers in India) led to Donaldson's creation of Thomas Covenant, the anti-hero of his most famous work (Thomas Covenant). The first book in that series, Lord Foul's Bane, received 47 rejections before a publisher agreed to publish it.
PROMINENT WORK:
Stephen Donaldson came to prominence in 1977 with the The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant, which is centred around a leper shunned by society and his trials and tribulations as his destiny unfolds. These books established Donaldson as one of the most important figures in modern fantasy fiction.
PERSONAL LIFE:
He currently resides in New Mexico.
THE GRADUAL INTERVIEW
EARLY LIFE AND EDUCATION:
Stephen R. Donaldson was born May 13, 1947 in Cleveland, Ohio. His father, James, was a medical missionary and his mother, Ruth, a prosthetist (a person skilled in making or fitting prosthetic devices). Donaldson spent the years between the ages of 3 and 16 living in India, where his father was working as an orthopaedic surgeon. Donaldson earned his bachelor's degree from The College of Wooster and master's degree from Kent State University.
INSPIRATIONS:
Donaldson's work is heavily influenced by other fantasy authors such as J.R.R. Tolkien, Roger Zelazny, Joseph Conrad, Henry James, and William Faulkner. The writers he most admires are Patricia A. McKillip, Steven Erikson, and Tim Powers.
It is believed that a speech his father made on leprosy (whilst working with lepers in India) led to Donaldson's creation of Thomas Covenant, the anti-hero of his most famous work (Thomas Covenant). The first book in that series, Lord Foul's Bane, received 47 rejections before a publisher agreed to publish it.
PROMINENT WORK:
Stephen Donaldson came to prominence in 1977 with the The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant, which is centred around a leper shunned by society and his trials and tribulations as his destiny unfolds. These books established Donaldson as one of the most important figures in modern fantasy fiction.
PERSONAL LIFE:
He currently resides in New Mexico.
THE GRADUAL INTERVIEW
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 266 reviews
January 22, 2024
Book 8 in the Thomas Covenant series … actually the third series. The first chronicles, a trilogy, was published from 1977 to 1978. The second trilogy was first published from 1980 to 1983. Donaldson pulled the Red Barchetta out of the barn again in 2004, starting the LAST chronicles and this the second in that final series, a tetralogy, first published in 2007.
OK, here’s the thing: I like this world building, I like the story, I like the characters, hell I like Donaldson’s writing - and he does A LOT of writing. The first trilogy averaged about 500 pages each, the second about the same, but he’s like many older writers and they get kind of long winded. I’m up over 4,000 pages invested in this story so far. Not prohibitively too long, but enough to where I was ready for this to wrap up and I’m definitely taking a break before donning the scuba gear again and diving into the rest of his fantasy.
And I do plan on finishing, Donaldson has crafted, IMHO, one of the finest fantasy series ever. It’s not LOTR or Dune, but pretty damn good. A comparison to Gene Wolfe’s dense writing is, I believe, the most appropriate and descriptive of where this fits into fantasy writing. This is an adult fantasy series that is psychologically dark with some horrific elements and thought provoking on many levels.
This time we get some more expansion into the various otherworldly beings that populate The Land and we get lots more backstory as Donaldson adds mystical time travel to his already cool narrative.
But its dark and can be depressing and his language, like Wolfe’s, is ripe with fecundity and multiple meanings, so its a slow read. If you’re not a real fan of the series, you’ll probably never get to book 8, many readers quit about half way through the first book, but for us true fans slogging through the back miles in our marathon towards the finish line, this is another worthwhile visit to The Land and more time with some complicated dynamics.
OK, here’s the thing: I like this world building, I like the story, I like the characters, hell I like Donaldson’s writing - and he does A LOT of writing. The first trilogy averaged about 500 pages each, the second about the same, but he’s like many older writers and they get kind of long winded. I’m up over 4,000 pages invested in this story so far. Not prohibitively too long, but enough to where I was ready for this to wrap up and I’m definitely taking a break before donning the scuba gear again and diving into the rest of his fantasy.
And I do plan on finishing, Donaldson has crafted, IMHO, one of the finest fantasy series ever. It’s not LOTR or Dune, but pretty damn good. A comparison to Gene Wolfe’s dense writing is, I believe, the most appropriate and descriptive of where this fits into fantasy writing. This is an adult fantasy series that is psychologically dark with some horrific elements and thought provoking on many levels.
This time we get some more expansion into the various otherworldly beings that populate The Land and we get lots more backstory as Donaldson adds mystical time travel to his already cool narrative.
But its dark and can be depressing and his language, like Wolfe’s, is ripe with fecundity and multiple meanings, so its a slow read. If you’re not a real fan of the series, you’ll probably never get to book 8, many readers quit about half way through the first book, but for us true fans slogging through the back miles in our marathon towards the finish line, this is another worthwhile visit to The Land and more time with some complicated dynamics.
September 10, 2016
I loved the first Chronicles and applauded the second. The third Chronicles began in a cunning way, and I was eager to be swept away into the Land once again. But this book, Fatal Revenant, dragged at my heels.
It could be cut by 400 pages and still tell the same story, and the excessive use of anachronistic (damn, he's doing it to me too now, I mean to say old) and downright obscure adjectives highlight the problem: Donaldson insists on telling us exactly what every single thing means, and every possible outcome, repeatedly, with painful precision. There is no space to wonder, to guess; to fill in the blanks in the writing: to be amazed.
In the earlier books I enjoyed the poetry of the Land, the way the atmosphere of the story made me feel. There was a special beauty to the fact that the world was a dream-world which Covenant did not believe in. It was real but unreal--that ambiguity was essential to the magic of the book.
But now the Land has become too real or too defined to be believable. Being the only world that exists for the lead character, it becomes a stock-fantasy story and reads like a fictionalised role-playing game with staged combat scenes. The plotting is arduous, with character motivations analysed so often that I became suspicious of the plot. I knew that if I stopped to think about it, I’d see that the characters probably wouldn’t do what they were doing unless the author had insisted that they did. It doesn’t ring true.
There are some high-points, great fantasy inventions, wonderful wizardry and moments when Donaldson works his old magic to good effect, but on the whole I found I couldn't empathise with Linden Avery. I just didn't care what she did.
Fatal Revenant also has tons of back-story. It's a classic case of 'show don't tell' gone wrong. I can't believe that anything Donaldson writes is accidental, but he has perhaps over-analysed this manuscript, filling it with reminders, patches and information readers ‘should know’. This exposition drags the whole series down. Linden is so insecure and uncertain. She is a woman of shallow emotions who is rather desperate as a heroine. The Extended Unabridged Chronicles of Linden Avery, the Chosen has become too tiresome for me.
It could be cut by 400 pages and still tell the same story, and the excessive use of anachronistic (damn, he's doing it to me too now, I mean to say old) and downright obscure adjectives highlight the problem: Donaldson insists on telling us exactly what every single thing means, and every possible outcome, repeatedly, with painful precision. There is no space to wonder, to guess; to fill in the blanks in the writing: to be amazed.
In the earlier books I enjoyed the poetry of the Land, the way the atmosphere of the story made me feel. There was a special beauty to the fact that the world was a dream-world which Covenant did not believe in. It was real but unreal--that ambiguity was essential to the magic of the book.
But now the Land has become too real or too defined to be believable. Being the only world that exists for the lead character, it becomes a stock-fantasy story and reads like a fictionalised role-playing game with staged combat scenes. The plotting is arduous, with character motivations analysed so often that I became suspicious of the plot. I knew that if I stopped to think about it, I’d see that the characters probably wouldn’t do what they were doing unless the author had insisted that they did. It doesn’t ring true.
There are some high-points, great fantasy inventions, wonderful wizardry and moments when Donaldson works his old magic to good effect, but on the whole I found I couldn't empathise with Linden Avery. I just didn't care what she did.
Fatal Revenant also has tons of back-story. It's a classic case of 'show don't tell' gone wrong. I can't believe that anything Donaldson writes is accidental, but he has perhaps over-analysed this manuscript, filling it with reminders, patches and information readers ‘should know’. This exposition drags the whole series down. Linden is so insecure and uncertain. She is a woman of shallow emotions who is rather desperate as a heroine. The Extended Unabridged Chronicles of Linden Avery, the Chosen has become too tiresome for me.
May 31, 2021
The disappointment I feel over The Last Chronicles of Thomas Covenant so far is like an innominate puissance that has left my love for Stephen R. Donaldson quite frangible. (If you have read the book, you’ll understand the obscure word choices.)
Like many others, I am a huge fan of the first two chronicles, but also, as for many others, the first two books of the last chronicles have been a chore to get through. I had hoped that Fatal Revenant would outshine Runes of the Earth, but that was not the case for me. I can't honestly say that it was worse, but I gave it two stars instead of three, because it continued on with the same flaws and my tolerance for it has waned.
My hopes for the series are pretty dashed right now. Fatal Revenant had its moments where I hoped the old wild magic would return, but they were sadly short-lived. Most of the book was a sad and boring shadow of what a visit to the Land used to hold.
I'm not going to go into detail about the repetitiveness or about Linden's whining and indecision. Like many reviewers, I never cared for Linden much in the second chronicles, so having her as the protagonist has been a challenge. Nor will I belabor the fact that it is overwritten and frankly, just not as exciting and brilliant as the first six books. Many reviewers have already said these things.
Instead, I'm going to address the apparent loss of language skill of the author. Granted, much of the description of landscapes and the like are still top-notch and beautiful, and as I said in my review of Runes, he creates some very unique scenarios. but I took some notes regarding specific word usage and phrases which really had me cringing. I know many of Donaldson's fans are huge defenders of his use of obscure words. I have nothing against such usage, but are these fans looking these words up? Seriously, sometimes he makes no sense now. So for those of you who haven't read it yet... minor spoilers ahead. I don't expose any plot points though, so it's really pretty safe.
On page 73 (of my paperback), he writes of "Glimmermere's lacustrine potency." The word "lacustrine" sounds so complex and interesting, like it might mean "luster" or "sparkling" or "gem-like," but no, it means "having to do with a lake." Uh... if you are even half awake reading the book, you know that Glimmermere is a lake! What a completely useless descriptor.
Here's another one: on page 228, he writes, "Tears ran like stridulation down her cheeks." Like a shrill, grating sound? Really? That makes no sense. Is he trying to say "stripes"? “Striation” is probably the word he was looking for, but didn’t bother to check. He seems to just be throwing words in there and hoping no one looks them up.
On page 285, there is a blatantly incongruous sentence, which is something that I can't stand. It just shows sheer laziness on the part of the author. Near the top of the page, talking about the Mahdoubt's eyes, he writes, "Then Linden saw that the left was a dark and luminous blue, the right a disconcerting orange." At the bottom of the same page, he writes, "For a moment, her orange eye searched Linden while her right regarded the flame." Her right eye was the orange eye a minute ago! And no, her eye color doesn't switch. In Runes of the Earth (page 473, if you want to look it up), it also says, "Her left was the rich blue of violets, but her right held a startling orange..." These sorts of lazy mistakes take me right out of the book.
On page 468, there is another misuse of a word. He writes, "the plash of her boots in the risible current seemed loud." I assume he is trying to say "laughing current," but "risible" does not mean "laughing," it means "laughable" or "causing to laugh." Did he find the current funny? Again, this makes no sense.
Some of the new giant names are certainly risible though. I thought Onyx Stonemage was pretty lame, but Exalt Widenedworld really takes the cake. Long gone are the days of powerful and beautiful names like Saltheart Foamfollower and Cable Seadreamer.
The last little gripe I'll point out, is on page 562, where again he seems to be using a big word for no reason except that it's big, or maybe because it sounds cool and he hopes no one will look it up. He writes, "Andelain nurtured a tranquility as pervasive as mansuetude." Well, "mansuetude" means "gentleness" or "meekness." So not only is it borderline redundant, it also doesn't make much sense. Since when is gentleness or meekness pervasive?
Someone could certainly make an artistic usage argument against the last one, but I think it would be a thin one. Or maybe I've just become so disenchanted that I can't give him the benefit of the doubt anymore.
It saddens me that I am writing this, taking apart one of the favorite authors of my youth and young adulthood, an author who inspired me to write and who was partly responsible for my continued love of fantasy and reading in general. His epic stories of the Land have stayed with me, close to my heart, for years. As excited as I was when I heard he was writing another chronicles, I now wish he had left it alone so as to not taint my fond memory of it.
I have been determined to continue the slog through the last two books, but after this one, and after reading the reviews of Against All Things Ending, I am not so sure I can do it. I at least need a break. I think I need a complete left turn of genre too right now, just to clear my palate before I get back to any fantasy. I'm excited to get back to Joe Abercrombie's The First Law series. But no, right now, I think I'm going to read Bossypants by Tina Fey. I need to get as far away from this book as possible.
Like many others, I am a huge fan of the first two chronicles, but also, as for many others, the first two books of the last chronicles have been a chore to get through. I had hoped that Fatal Revenant would outshine Runes of the Earth, but that was not the case for me. I can't honestly say that it was worse, but I gave it two stars instead of three, because it continued on with the same flaws and my tolerance for it has waned.
My hopes for the series are pretty dashed right now. Fatal Revenant had its moments where I hoped the old wild magic would return, but they were sadly short-lived. Most of the book was a sad and boring shadow of what a visit to the Land used to hold.
I'm not going to go into detail about the repetitiveness or about Linden's whining and indecision. Like many reviewers, I never cared for Linden much in the second chronicles, so having her as the protagonist has been a challenge. Nor will I belabor the fact that it is overwritten and frankly, just not as exciting and brilliant as the first six books. Many reviewers have already said these things.
Instead, I'm going to address the apparent loss of language skill of the author. Granted, much of the description of landscapes and the like are still top-notch and beautiful, and as I said in my review of Runes, he creates some very unique scenarios. but I took some notes regarding specific word usage and phrases which really had me cringing. I know many of Donaldson's fans are huge defenders of his use of obscure words. I have nothing against such usage, but are these fans looking these words up? Seriously, sometimes he makes no sense now. So for those of you who haven't read it yet... minor spoilers ahead. I don't expose any plot points though, so it's really pretty safe.
On page 73 (of my paperback), he writes of "Glimmermere's lacustrine potency." The word "lacustrine" sounds so complex and interesting, like it might mean "luster" or "sparkling" or "gem-like," but no, it means "having to do with a lake." Uh... if you are even half awake reading the book, you know that Glimmermere is a lake! What a completely useless descriptor.
Here's another one: on page 228, he writes, "Tears ran like stridulation down her cheeks." Like a shrill, grating sound? Really? That makes no sense. Is he trying to say "stripes"? “Striation” is probably the word he was looking for, but didn’t bother to check. He seems to just be throwing words in there and hoping no one looks them up.
On page 285, there is a blatantly incongruous sentence, which is something that I can't stand. It just shows sheer laziness on the part of the author. Near the top of the page, talking about the Mahdoubt's eyes, he writes, "Then Linden saw that the left was a dark and luminous blue, the right a disconcerting orange." At the bottom of the same page, he writes, "For a moment, her orange eye searched Linden while her right regarded the flame." Her right eye was the orange eye a minute ago! And no, her eye color doesn't switch. In Runes of the Earth (page 473, if you want to look it up), it also says, "Her left was the rich blue of violets, but her right held a startling orange..." These sorts of lazy mistakes take me right out of the book.
On page 468, there is another misuse of a word. He writes, "the plash of her boots in the risible current seemed loud." I assume he is trying to say "laughing current," but "risible" does not mean "laughing," it means "laughable" or "causing to laugh." Did he find the current funny? Again, this makes no sense.
Some of the new giant names are certainly risible though. I thought Onyx Stonemage was pretty lame, but Exalt Widenedworld really takes the cake. Long gone are the days of powerful and beautiful names like Saltheart Foamfollower and Cable Seadreamer.
The last little gripe I'll point out, is on page 562, where again he seems to be using a big word for no reason except that it's big, or maybe because it sounds cool and he hopes no one will look it up. He writes, "Andelain nurtured a tranquility as pervasive as mansuetude." Well, "mansuetude" means "gentleness" or "meekness." So not only is it borderline redundant, it also doesn't make much sense. Since when is gentleness or meekness pervasive?
Someone could certainly make an artistic usage argument against the last one, but I think it would be a thin one. Or maybe I've just become so disenchanted that I can't give him the benefit of the doubt anymore.
It saddens me that I am writing this, taking apart one of the favorite authors of my youth and young adulthood, an author who inspired me to write and who was partly responsible for my continued love of fantasy and reading in general. His epic stories of the Land have stayed with me, close to my heart, for years. As excited as I was when I heard he was writing another chronicles, I now wish he had left it alone so as to not taint my fond memory of it.
I have been determined to continue the slog through the last two books, but after this one, and after reading the reviews of Against All Things Ending, I am not so sure I can do it. I at least need a break. I think I need a complete left turn of genre too right now, just to clear my palate before I get back to any fantasy. I'm excited to get back to Joe Abercrombie's The First Law series. But no, right now, I think I'm going to read Bossypants by Tina Fey. I need to get as far away from this book as possible.
April 13, 2023
This was a very difficult book to read and rate. I have never liked the character Linden and in this book some of her chapters were torturous. Now I never liked Thomas Covenant either, but while he was unlikeable and frustrating be was understandable, but Linden just pisses me off and is more irritating than frustrating. While this book was the first miss of the series for me, there was just so much excellence in it as well and it was wonderfully written overall. But the length of the book mixed with the sheer amount of time dedicated to Linden and her inner voice kept me from liking this book all that much.
All the positives of the book worked hard to balance my dislike of the book and barely made it. 3.25/5
All the positives of the book worked hard to balance my dislike of the book and barely made it. 3.25/5
March 5, 2020
Verbose, too long and somewhat up its own ass? Absolutely. But it’s also glorious - a tour of times and places that will touch anyone who’s ever loved the Land right to the quick. Weaving in and out of legends, offering some very clever touches of continuity, and folding in every question you never knew you had, it dances perfectly across unseen fault lines. And good to see Linden with her feet under her and a full head of steam!
March 22, 2015
From The Runes to Revenant, with nary a pause (much to be said for holding off on jumping into a series), so some momentum was maintained. That being said, however, this book started to annoy me.
The writing, no change there, and I could live with the repetition (just read faster), but some elements of the story and Linden herself were less than palatable. On the journey to Melenkurion, it seemed pretty obvious pretty early on that sometime was seriously amiss, and Linden seemed utterly unable to trust what she knew. Then she swings to absolute bloody-mindedness and won't listen to anyone, even those whom she trusts and should take into account (e.g. The Mahdoubt or the Ranyhyn, at the very least). That seemed inconsistent, as she has been repeatedly shown to be a doctor who trusts her instincts - so either she is book 2 pre-Melenkurion climax (not trusting her instincts at all, which really was out of character, imo) or book 2 post-Melenkurion climax (forging ahead without any seeming thought but one and no doubts what-so-ever, also out of character, imo). I could not entirely buy into such dramatic motivational extremes in a single character. Her companions seem pretty clueless or else too soft-spoken and simply follow along - she really needs someone (or several) to challenge her assumptions and cause her to look more deeply into her justifications.
....
Just read chapter one of book three on the official website (so mini-spoiler if you haven't finished book 2)...
and boy oh boy does Covenant soften the impact of her actions and reasoning - it isn't his fault or responsibility at all - she needs to get some humility really fast, crying doesn't cut it, she knew exactly what she was doing and what the consequences would be, she just thought Covenant would fix everything for her. Will see where this next book goes, come October.
The writing, no change there, and I could live with the repetition (just read faster), but some elements of the story and Linden herself were less than palatable. On the journey to Melenkurion, it seemed pretty obvious pretty early on that sometime was seriously amiss, and Linden seemed utterly unable to trust what she knew. Then she swings to absolute bloody-mindedness and won't listen to anyone, even those whom she trusts and should take into account (e.g. The Mahdoubt or the Ranyhyn, at the very least). That seemed inconsistent, as she has been repeatedly shown to be a doctor who trusts her instincts - so either she is book 2 pre-Melenkurion climax (not trusting her instincts at all, which really was out of character, imo) or book 2 post-Melenkurion climax (forging ahead without any seeming thought but one and no doubts what-so-ever, also out of character, imo). I could not entirely buy into such dramatic motivational extremes in a single character. Her companions seem pretty clueless or else too soft-spoken and simply follow along - she really needs someone (or several) to challenge her assumptions and cause her to look more deeply into her justifications.
....
Just read chapter one of book three on the official website (so mini-spoiler if you haven't finished book 2)...
and boy oh boy does Covenant soften the impact of her actions and reasoning - it isn't his fault or responsibility at all - she needs to get some humility really fast, crying doesn't cut it, she knew exactly what she was doing and what the consequences would be, she just thought Covenant would fix everything for her. Will see where this next book goes, come October.
July 9, 2020
This review is for all ten books in the series. My re-read of the first six books was colored through the lens of nostalgia. The first two trilogies affected me a great deal as a youth—I read them at some point during high school. When I saw that Donaldson had completed the story arc with The Last Chronicles of Thomas Covenant, a four-book tetralogy, I decided to return to the originals and read them all in sequence.
I regret the decision, but now at least I’ve completed them. I do believe that because the first series in particular is so unique, Donaldson deserved to be given the chance to resolve the story. The ending brought many strands together with a feeling of near-completion, but unfortunately his style ruined the last four books for me.
The first six books affected me powerfully. They were the first fantasy novel that I had read that treated the reader like an adult (much more so than Lord of the Rings). It’s adult in several ways. First, the language. Donaldson uses advanced vocabulary unsparingly that requires most readers to keep a dictionary (app) handy. He doesn’t dumb it down for “young adults” or even for adults for that matter. He challenges you to use your brain, and as a child who joined Mensa and was constantly solving puzzles and playing complex games like Dungeons & Dragons, I ate up the challenge. I felt more mature reading it.
The second most obvious quality that struck me as different from all the other fantasy novels that I had read, is that the main character was radically unsympathetic. Antiheroes were not unknown to me at the time—I had read quite a bit of Michael Moorcock by this point, including Elric of Melnibone and the Cornelius Chronicles. But your typical anti-hero has redeeming qualities that are appealing to read even while they behave in “anti” ways. For example, they are usually charismatic. Or clever. Or unafraid. Whatever causes them to commit questionable acts, we enjoy reading their exploits, and they end up saving the day even if only for selfish reasons. Well, here’s where Donaldson parts ways the most dramatically. The main character is not only a bad person, but he is an unlikeable person. Thomas Covenant is irritable and difficult and unfunny. He is furious at the world because it treated him harshly. He’s bony and angular and diseased and anti-cuddly. He’s a cactus of a person. And on top of that, he commits a despicable act that makes him seem unredeemable. It happens in the first novel, Lord Foul’s Bane, and I don’t consider it a spoiler because I think anyone who goes into reading it should know about it in advance. It’s a central conundrum of much of the series, how do we as the reader respond to it and how do we feel about the author’s treatment of the topic. Thomas Covenant is sucked into the fantasy world known only as The Land, and he believes it is only a grand hallucination of some sort. He feels he’s gone insane. Enraged by his lack of control over himself and his situation (which is particularly acute for him because he has leprosy and his only real-world survival method is to remain in complete control of his interactions with his environment), he takes it out on a friendly young woman trying to help him by raping her.
This act brings up the ethical question of whether cruelty in a dream is real. Covenant believes (at that time) that The Land is a dream of some sort although it’s certainly not a typical dream. But if we are willing to accept that premise then how do we feel about violence toward a dream figure? How do we feel about rape in a story, if we want to look at it metafictionally? Over the course of the series, Donaldson touches on how the assault act psychologically harms the rapist. Covenant later can’t forgive himself and carries his own self-hatred with him for many years. He frequently seeks to atone for this action that he regrets. Yes, his victim suffers from the event but in what I would describe as stereotypical ways. The focus was never on her point of view. Which isn’t to say Donaldson dismisses it, but it’s not really his strong suit. He’s clearly an Existentialist of sorts, and we as a reader come to realize that whether the world is a grand hallucination or another actual dimension doesn’t matter—Covenant is defined by his choices. From a Buddhist perspective, all of existence is a dream. All is nothingness. And yet within this nothingness, our choices still matter. The act of rape degrades the actor as well as injures the victim. A contemporary feminist critique of the storyline might analyze the events from a different perspective. While personal agency and “responsibility” are not attributes to be utterly dismissed, the decentralized and abstract self is part of a social environment. And in fact, it is society/culture/civilization that permits rape to occur. Yes, we can and should punish criminal acts, but it’s our political and cultural environment that allows it to exist, and what is required to change is not “interior” but is instead social. This brings up what could be seen as a weakness of The Chronicles and Donaldson’s treatment of rape and other issues. In the world of The Land, it’s relatively devoid of politics. There is no political economy—no Capitalism to turn people, time, and materials into products. Society is relatively egalitarian between men and women with almost no patriarchy. Struggles tend to be either between evil and good—the forces of Lord Foul (the force of “despite” or despair) versus everyone else (who mean well but may unwittingly help Foul); or the struggles are between “races.” The entire story struck me as not quite racist but racialist. Tending to give each racial group common attributes in contrast with others. He’s somewhat essentialist in his creation of races. The Hurachai, the Ramen, the Giants, the Stonedowners, the Demondimspawn, the Elohim, etc. While there is disagreement between certain members of each group, Donaldson tends to emphasize similarities. At times, for example, I became uncomfortable that all the Hurachai were inscrutable, unemotional martial artists of supreme skill (and unifying telepathic abilities). It struck me as an Asian stereotype—like they were all Bruce Lee clones.
The violent sexual assault, an incestuous relationship (which isn’t portrayed as healthy but also isn’t utterly condemned), and lastly the focus on morality throughout the Chronicles are the other additional elements that made the series a truly adult story that never coddles the reader. We must wrestle with our own responses rather than simply accept the story as it is. Many readers may even just quit reading it and that is certainly a valid response. Or, just as Donaldson positions Covenant as the only man who can save The Land due to his possession of a white gold ring (the wedding band from his ex-wife) which gives him tremendous, dangerous magical powers…are we stuck with the book because it’s hard to put down? Because we grow to care about The Land too? More than we care about Covenant?
In the first two trilogies, Donaldson exhibits a dramatic writing style that walks a tightrope between grand and grandiose that is not balanced by any humor. Either you accept that emotions and dangers are always turned up to 11 or you become put off by the style, and he comes across as melodramatic and bombastic. For me, it worked (mostly) through the first two trilogies. When you get to book seven, he goes off the rails.
The last four books struck me as a parody of his own style. In book nine, the word “god” is repeated 131 times. Hell gets 140 mentions. Damn gets 73. The word “mien” (you know, instead of “expression”) gets 9 mentions in book nine and 25 in book ten. Book ten finds “hell” repeated 181 times, “god” 168 times, “innominate” gets 5 mentions and “We are Giants” is spoken 14 times. Not to mention “We are Haruchai” or “We are Ramen.” Heavy handed much? Throughout the final four, Donaldson dedicates a tremendous volume of dialogue toward justifying and rationalizing the plot. He seems to complexify things in order to create barriers and challenges to raise the stakes but then feels the need to put a lot of effort into explaining them. Too many unnecessary details parsed…much like theology.
Covenant and the other main character, Linden Avery, who joins us in the second trilogy, are always plagued by self-doubt. But by book eight, the self-doubt becomes unbearable. It may authentically represent a struggle that most of us face but for fuck’s sake I don’t want to read about characters constantly doubting themselves. It’s beyond tedious. And the romance between Covenant and Linden is not epic, it’s cloying and saccharineBoth of them struggle with power and feel unworthy of it. They feel that if they accept too much power then they become dangerous. They fear responsibility and must overcome their fear of using power in order to succeed. This strikes me as a thematic concern out-of-date with our times. It feels like a meaningless abstract Existential crisis. “I have so much power I’m afraid to use it.” I keep coming back to the fact that our current struggles are about the “everyperson” being faced with a deficit of power. Corrupt figures like Trump and McConnell have no qualms about using their power. They have no inner struggle. The rest of us humanity are oppressed. So who could possibly relate to this premise of having too much power and being afraid to use it? It seems like an irrelevant out-of-date intellectual debate occurring repeatedly throughout the story.
How does Donaldson reflect on religion in The Chronicles? In general, I’d say ambiguously. I did a little research and found an interview with Donaldson where he talks about being raised as a Fundamentalist Christian and so he understands that mindset well. He said that aspects of that way of thinking remain with him, and he considers himself a “missionary for literature.” Personally, I find Biblical symbolism to be rather pompous in literature, but at the same time I find blasphemy to be generally amusing and entertaining. When fiction uses Biblical stories in some fashion to simply retell the myth (let’s say Aslan in the Narnia Chronicles is Christ returned to save humanity) then I call that proselytizing and indoctrination. But what about when the story falls somewhere in between praise and blasphemy? Thomas Covenant is a Christ figure. He’s resurrected several times in various ways. He actually has leprosy and is healed (periodically) of his condition. Christ is described as curing leprosy. His very name—Covenant: a binding religious commitment to the gospel. And he’s called “The Unbeliever” due to his refusal to believe The Land is real. A facile interpretation might pose that this unlikeable rapist asshole is a representation of “atheism,” and he doesn’t become tolerable and accept his role until he admits The Land is important—even if he never quite knows if it is real. It may all be in his head, but he becomes a better person when he cares about it and acts based upon that. Christians might call this “faith.” I would quibble that Covenant never really becomes likeable. He sacrifices and risks himself repeatedly, but I never found myself on his side. I was on the side of The Land and the supporting characters pulled in his wake.
The religious symbolism is profligate throughout. Lord Foul is our Satan. The Creator is God, Donaldson makes the Creator generally weak and ineffectual although he’s responsible for setting Covenant and Linden Avery on their paths into The Land. The Creator is a fairly clear embodiment of the aspect of Christian story that has Jesus crying, “Why have you forsaken me?” The Creator sets the ball rolling then poof—he gone. The Land is a fallen paradise, with much beauty yet corrupted by evil and plagued by toxins. There were actually times when the themes struck me as almost, vaguely environmental. The poisonous “Sunbane” that inflicts the land is like global warming. The Sunbane is fed by cruelty although they are tricked into believing they are doing it for the good of humanity. Much like we work to buy houses, clothes, electronics, and so on to give our families comfortable lives. And yet all that comfort comes at a price for our species. Humans were seduced into chopping down great swathes of the “One Forest” which subsequently allowed Lord Foul’s forces to increase their strength. There is no technology anywhere in the land, only magic and physical prowess, and so that which “pollutes” the land is driven by our Satan figure. These implications are never stated directly, but they begin to chip away at the too-obvious metaphor of Covenant “saving” humanity. The battle in his soul to avoid despair is what permits him to act and attempt to save the natural world. There is one particular scene that problematizes a simple Christian view of the story. Covenant returns to the “real world” and stumbles into a Christian revival service under a tent. Due to his leprosy, the church rejects him as diseased and literally throws him out. He finds no solace from the Earthly church, only eventually by returning to the fantasy realm and overcoming self-doubt does he find purpose. In the end, Covenant’s covenant is not religious, but it’s a commitment to action in pursuit of Good. His quest is Existential not religious. The Biblical elements seemed to me more stylistic attributes. The framework for a morality play that is about love and friendship and self-sacrifice and overcoming despair for the good of others.
I will comment briefly on the ending in a spoiler tag.
In total, The Chronicles is a groundbreaking series that confronts us with a plethora of moral questions. The adventure story that goes along with it was compelling through the first six books at least, but fell apart for me in the last four. It’s not completely true that I regret reading them all. The OCD in me is pleased to know how Donaldson wanted it all to end.
I regret the decision, but now at least I’ve completed them. I do believe that because the first series in particular is so unique, Donaldson deserved to be given the chance to resolve the story. The ending brought many strands together with a feeling of near-completion, but unfortunately his style ruined the last four books for me.
The first six books affected me powerfully. They were the first fantasy novel that I had read that treated the reader like an adult (much more so than Lord of the Rings). It’s adult in several ways. First, the language. Donaldson uses advanced vocabulary unsparingly that requires most readers to keep a dictionary (app) handy. He doesn’t dumb it down for “young adults” or even for adults for that matter. He challenges you to use your brain, and as a child who joined Mensa and was constantly solving puzzles and playing complex games like Dungeons & Dragons, I ate up the challenge. I felt more mature reading it.
The second most obvious quality that struck me as different from all the other fantasy novels that I had read, is that the main character was radically unsympathetic. Antiheroes were not unknown to me at the time—I had read quite a bit of Michael Moorcock by this point, including Elric of Melnibone and the Cornelius Chronicles. But your typical anti-hero has redeeming qualities that are appealing to read even while they behave in “anti” ways. For example, they are usually charismatic. Or clever. Or unafraid. Whatever causes them to commit questionable acts, we enjoy reading their exploits, and they end up saving the day even if only for selfish reasons. Well, here’s where Donaldson parts ways the most dramatically. The main character is not only a bad person, but he is an unlikeable person. Thomas Covenant is irritable and difficult and unfunny. He is furious at the world because it treated him harshly. He’s bony and angular and diseased and anti-cuddly. He’s a cactus of a person. And on top of that, he commits a despicable act that makes him seem unredeemable. It happens in the first novel, Lord Foul’s Bane, and I don’t consider it a spoiler because I think anyone who goes into reading it should know about it in advance. It’s a central conundrum of much of the series, how do we as the reader respond to it and how do we feel about the author’s treatment of the topic. Thomas Covenant is sucked into the fantasy world known only as The Land, and he believes it is only a grand hallucination of some sort. He feels he’s gone insane. Enraged by his lack of control over himself and his situation (which is particularly acute for him because he has leprosy and his only real-world survival method is to remain in complete control of his interactions with his environment), he takes it out on a friendly young woman trying to help him by raping her.
This act brings up the ethical question of whether cruelty in a dream is real. Covenant believes (at that time) that The Land is a dream of some sort although it’s certainly not a typical dream. But if we are willing to accept that premise then how do we feel about violence toward a dream figure? How do we feel about rape in a story, if we want to look at it metafictionally? Over the course of the series, Donaldson touches on how the assault act psychologically harms the rapist. Covenant later can’t forgive himself and carries his own self-hatred with him for many years. He frequently seeks to atone for this action that he regrets. Yes, his victim suffers from the event but in what I would describe as stereotypical ways. The focus was never on her point of view. Which isn’t to say Donaldson dismisses it, but it’s not really his strong suit. He’s clearly an Existentialist of sorts, and we as a reader come to realize that whether the world is a grand hallucination or another actual dimension doesn’t matter—Covenant is defined by his choices. From a Buddhist perspective, all of existence is a dream. All is nothingness. And yet within this nothingness, our choices still matter. The act of rape degrades the actor as well as injures the victim. A contemporary feminist critique of the storyline might analyze the events from a different perspective. While personal agency and “responsibility” are not attributes to be utterly dismissed, the decentralized and abstract self is part of a social environment. And in fact, it is society/culture/civilization that permits rape to occur. Yes, we can and should punish criminal acts, but it’s our political and cultural environment that allows it to exist, and what is required to change is not “interior” but is instead social. This brings up what could be seen as a weakness of The Chronicles and Donaldson’s treatment of rape and other issues. In the world of The Land, it’s relatively devoid of politics. There is no political economy—no Capitalism to turn people, time, and materials into products. Society is relatively egalitarian between men and women with almost no patriarchy. Struggles tend to be either between evil and good—the forces of Lord Foul (the force of “despite” or despair) versus everyone else (who mean well but may unwittingly help Foul); or the struggles are between “races.” The entire story struck me as not quite racist but racialist. Tending to give each racial group common attributes in contrast with others. He’s somewhat essentialist in his creation of races. The Hurachai, the Ramen, the Giants, the Stonedowners, the Demondimspawn, the Elohim, etc. While there is disagreement between certain members of each group, Donaldson tends to emphasize similarities. At times, for example, I became uncomfortable that all the Hurachai were inscrutable, unemotional martial artists of supreme skill (and unifying telepathic abilities). It struck me as an Asian stereotype—like they were all Bruce Lee clones.
The violent sexual assault, an incestuous relationship (which isn’t portrayed as healthy but also isn’t utterly condemned), and lastly the focus on morality throughout the Chronicles are the other additional elements that made the series a truly adult story that never coddles the reader. We must wrestle with our own responses rather than simply accept the story as it is. Many readers may even just quit reading it and that is certainly a valid response. Or, just as Donaldson positions Covenant as the only man who can save The Land due to his possession of a white gold ring (the wedding band from his ex-wife) which gives him tremendous, dangerous magical powers…are we stuck with the book because it’s hard to put down? Because we grow to care about The Land too? More than we care about Covenant?
In the first two trilogies, Donaldson exhibits a dramatic writing style that walks a tightrope between grand and grandiose that is not balanced by any humor. Either you accept that emotions and dangers are always turned up to 11 or you become put off by the style, and he comes across as melodramatic and bombastic. For me, it worked (mostly) through the first two trilogies. When you get to book seven, he goes off the rails.
The last four books struck me as a parody of his own style. In book nine, the word “god” is repeated 131 times. Hell gets 140 mentions. Damn gets 73. The word “mien” (you know, instead of “expression”) gets 9 mentions in book nine and 25 in book ten. Book ten finds “hell” repeated 181 times, “god” 168 times, “innominate” gets 5 mentions and “We are Giants” is spoken 14 times. Not to mention “We are Haruchai” or “We are Ramen.” Heavy handed much? Throughout the final four, Donaldson dedicates a tremendous volume of dialogue toward justifying and rationalizing the plot. He seems to complexify things in order to create barriers and challenges to raise the stakes but then feels the need to put a lot of effort into explaining them. Too many unnecessary details parsed…much like theology.
Covenant and the other main character, Linden Avery, who joins us in the second trilogy, are always plagued by self-doubt. But by book eight, the self-doubt becomes unbearable. It may authentically represent a struggle that most of us face but for fuck’s sake I don’t want to read about characters constantly doubting themselves. It’s beyond tedious. And the romance between Covenant and Linden is not epic, it’s cloying and saccharineBoth of them struggle with power and feel unworthy of it. They feel that if they accept too much power then they become dangerous. They fear responsibility and must overcome their fear of using power in order to succeed. This strikes me as a thematic concern out-of-date with our times. It feels like a meaningless abstract Existential crisis. “I have so much power I’m afraid to use it.” I keep coming back to the fact that our current struggles are about the “everyperson” being faced with a deficit of power. Corrupt figures like Trump and McConnell have no qualms about using their power. They have no inner struggle. The rest of us humanity are oppressed. So who could possibly relate to this premise of having too much power and being afraid to use it? It seems like an irrelevant out-of-date intellectual debate occurring repeatedly throughout the story.
How does Donaldson reflect on religion in The Chronicles? In general, I’d say ambiguously. I did a little research and found an interview with Donaldson where he talks about being raised as a Fundamentalist Christian and so he understands that mindset well. He said that aspects of that way of thinking remain with him, and he considers himself a “missionary for literature.” Personally, I find Biblical symbolism to be rather pompous in literature, but at the same time I find blasphemy to be generally amusing and entertaining. When fiction uses Biblical stories in some fashion to simply retell the myth (let’s say Aslan in the Narnia Chronicles is Christ returned to save humanity) then I call that proselytizing and indoctrination. But what about when the story falls somewhere in between praise and blasphemy? Thomas Covenant is a Christ figure. He’s resurrected several times in various ways. He actually has leprosy and is healed (periodically) of his condition. Christ is described as curing leprosy. His very name—Covenant: a binding religious commitment to the gospel. And he’s called “The Unbeliever” due to his refusal to believe The Land is real. A facile interpretation might pose that this unlikeable rapist asshole is a representation of “atheism,” and he doesn’t become tolerable and accept his role until he admits The Land is important—even if he never quite knows if it is real. It may all be in his head, but he becomes a better person when he cares about it and acts based upon that. Christians might call this “faith.” I would quibble that Covenant never really becomes likeable. He sacrifices and risks himself repeatedly, but I never found myself on his side. I was on the side of The Land and the supporting characters pulled in his wake.
The religious symbolism is profligate throughout. Lord Foul is our Satan. The Creator is God, Donaldson makes the Creator generally weak and ineffectual although he’s responsible for setting Covenant and Linden Avery on their paths into The Land. The Creator is a fairly clear embodiment of the aspect of Christian story that has Jesus crying, “Why have you forsaken me?” The Creator sets the ball rolling then poof—he gone. The Land is a fallen paradise, with much beauty yet corrupted by evil and plagued by toxins. There were actually times when the themes struck me as almost, vaguely environmental. The poisonous “Sunbane” that inflicts the land is like global warming. The Sunbane is fed by cruelty although they are tricked into believing they are doing it for the good of humanity. Much like we work to buy houses, clothes, electronics, and so on to give our families comfortable lives. And yet all that comfort comes at a price for our species. Humans were seduced into chopping down great swathes of the “One Forest” which subsequently allowed Lord Foul’s forces to increase their strength. There is no technology anywhere in the land, only magic and physical prowess, and so that which “pollutes” the land is driven by our Satan figure. These implications are never stated directly, but they begin to chip away at the too-obvious metaphor of Covenant “saving” humanity. The battle in his soul to avoid despair is what permits him to act and attempt to save the natural world. There is one particular scene that problematizes a simple Christian view of the story. Covenant returns to the “real world” and stumbles into a Christian revival service under a tent. Due to his leprosy, the church rejects him as diseased and literally throws him out. He finds no solace from the Earthly church, only eventually by returning to the fantasy realm and overcoming self-doubt does he find purpose. In the end, Covenant’s covenant is not religious, but it’s a commitment to action in pursuit of Good. His quest is Existential not religious. The Biblical elements seemed to me more stylistic attributes. The framework for a morality play that is about love and friendship and self-sacrifice and overcoming despair for the good of others.
I will comment briefly on the ending in a spoiler tag.
In total, The Chronicles is a groundbreaking series that confronts us with a plethora of moral questions. The adventure story that goes along with it was compelling through the first six books at least, but fell apart for me in the last four. It’s not completely true that I regret reading them all. The OCD in me is pleased to know how Donaldson wanted it all to end.
November 11, 2007
The Covenant series has always been my favorite epic fantasy series. Donaldson rewards the patient reader, and this volume is no exception to that. I had the opportunity to hear Donaldson discuss the series in person, and he noted that he'd envisioned the end of the final book - _The Last Dark_ - when he began to outline _The Wounded Land_, over 25 years ago. You have to admire that kind of foresight, if only because such foresight seems to be lacking in other series fiction.
Donaldson brings back a number of familiar ideas from the earlier Covenant books and drops subtle hints as to the direction of the overall story. I'm a big Donaldson fan, and even I found some surprises. _Fatal Revenant_ emphasizes that this is Linden Avery's story, although Thomas Covenant plays a bigger role than he did in _The Runes of the Earth_. There is, of course, much gnashing of teeth and melodrama, but frankly if you didn't enjoy it you wouldn't be reading this book. Donaldson is skilled at making the reader feel for characters that oftentimes don't deserve it.
I hope that I can wait another three years for the next volume.
Donaldson brings back a number of familiar ideas from the earlier Covenant books and drops subtle hints as to the direction of the overall story. I'm a big Donaldson fan, and even I found some surprises. _Fatal Revenant_ emphasizes that this is Linden Avery's story, although Thomas Covenant plays a bigger role than he did in _The Runes of the Earth_. There is, of course, much gnashing of teeth and melodrama, but frankly if you didn't enjoy it you wouldn't be reading this book. Donaldson is skilled at making the reader feel for characters that oftentimes don't deserve it.
I hope that I can wait another three years for the next volume.
February 14, 2019
This will fall under the category of "weird asthetic things I like to notice" but I wonder at what point the publisher and/or the author decided that the cover design needed to be changed from "random fantasy widescreen landscape shot" to "major character glaring at you while standing in front of a tree like you're the one on the wrong end of a firing squad". Because while my version of the first volume shows tiny people being dwarfed from the landscape, every other volume shows someone seemingly angry at you for even wanting to read the book (although since then someone redid the first volume's cover to a person with some horses so I guess consistency was an eventual goal). Like so much else its meaningless in the long run but I thought the design shift mid-stream was interesting. Make of it what you will.
Meanwhile in the series itself, we learn about the value of hugs and the tragedy of their absence.
I wish I were kidding. After what felt to me like a sputtering start in the first volume, Donaldson ended with a crackerjack of a cliffhanger as an undersiege Linden Avery and friends are greeted by the sight of none other than Thomas Covenant and her son Jeremiah. This should be cause for celebration, especially since Jeremiah, previously mute and unresponsive in her world, is capable of acting like the surly teenager Linden thought she might have missed out on. Covenant isn't a much better mood either, claiming that the strain of coming back and maintaining himself is intense, thus giving him an extra layer of crankiness which for some reason tends to make him yell "Hellfire!" a lot, like someone brainwashed into thinking they're a wizard and that's the trigger word for a fireball.
So, yeah, he's been to the Misanthrope Commune and come back as the master, not the student, suggesting that all those years being dead has altered his perspective slightly. Not long after Linden learns that because of her link to the prime Earthpower, she can't touch either of them lest she disperse them entirely. But being he keeps insulting her, you start to wonder why she doesn't just give him a hearty slap on the back just for some peace and quiet.
Thus Donaldson tries to upend our expectations. And it would work, except he still seems convinced that layers and layers of introspection are a good substitute for the plot moving forward. Don't get me wrong, I've read Beckett, I'm okay with a little bit of stasis but a lot of the pondering involves the characters going over the same ground again and again, often in concentrated doses. If you think I'm exaggerating, let me point out that the first twenty pages of the book are given to Linden freaking out over not being able to hug her son or Covenant, like that's the biggest crisis facing them. It's not even the biggest one at that particular moment.
But once the middle school dance rules are settled, the quest attempts to get back in earnest and its . . . still nebulous. Linden is an atypical heroine and is honestly attempting to do her best given the circumstances but her plans seem to consist of doing what someone says until its clear that's not a good idea and then they shift to a different plan. Their first attempt is another trip back in time, during which we seem to learn that some interference is okay as Linden heals a bunch of people involved in a battle that probably would have died (yet in the last book they amscrayed out of an area to avoid starting a battle because that would have messed up history) but since the present day basically stinks its not clear how it could get much worse anyway. But its unclear if anyone knows what they're doing so its an open question if anyone would even notice.
And that's where the book gets maddening, switching from arresting to plodding, like you're trying driving with your dozing grandmother who keeps waking up just as you're getting some serious speed and chastises you for having such a lead foot because someone could get hurt. A confrontation that would have been a heck of a climax except it happens halfway through the book quickens the pulse slightly but too soon we're back to Linden reminding the reader every two pages she has to save her son and then waiting for someone to give her cryptic advice that will send her on another miles long journey.
Again, its not bad and Donaldson is good at conveying her confusion and the fact that there are a lot more players involved in this mess than there seems at first. But beyond "Save Jeremiah" Linden barely has motivation and while we don't need "gotta throw the ring in the volcano" levels of straightforward, it'd be nice for some clarity as to what everyone is working toward. Half the time Linden's grasping at straws and while characters with amazing names like the Theomach, the Harrow and the Mahdoubt may make you think the book is sponsored by "A Parent's Guide to Naming Gallifreyan Babies", their roles seem no clearer than anyone else's.
It just winds up being a strange soup of a novel, this gelatinous murk that burbles along calmly, with dark shapes just barely visible bobbing gently, until once in a while a hand or something will thrust through to the surface and surprise you. There's moments where it comes to life, where Linden meets a Forestal, the fight midway through the book, some of the Mahdoubt's conversations that hint at the stakes but just like the Dirt that covers the Land everything still seems muted. Few of the characters stand out beyond basic traits (its telling that although three Humbled eventually accompany her, I can't tell them apart) and given everyone is theoretically fighting for their survival, the level of urgency seems oddly low except for the numerous occassions where Linden reminds us all she wants to do is save her son.
The problem is, as she's written here, Linden can barely carry the book and her supporting cast isn't distinctive enough to lift her up. It keeps trying to throw different people at her, including a group of giants trying to restrain a crazy friend, but too often it seems like someone's blog of their cross-country travels and the accounts of all the quirky people they meet along the way. The truth is, the cast could reach the proverbial thousands. Nothing helps. The book itself seems to admit that toward the end, bringing back someone at the climax who could spice things up as much as it seems to suggest she's way over her head. Its a weird stance for the book to take and since we're only halfway through there's plenty of room for Donaldson to play with the themes he's started and toy with our expectations. But by that same token we're already halfway through and its hard to shake the feeling that we're still in the process of getting started.
Meanwhile in the series itself, we learn about the value of hugs and the tragedy of their absence.
I wish I were kidding. After what felt to me like a sputtering start in the first volume, Donaldson ended with a crackerjack of a cliffhanger as an undersiege Linden Avery and friends are greeted by the sight of none other than Thomas Covenant and her son Jeremiah. This should be cause for celebration, especially since Jeremiah, previously mute and unresponsive in her world, is capable of acting like the surly teenager Linden thought she might have missed out on. Covenant isn't a much better mood either, claiming that the strain of coming back and maintaining himself is intense, thus giving him an extra layer of crankiness which for some reason tends to make him yell "Hellfire!" a lot, like someone brainwashed into thinking they're a wizard and that's the trigger word for a fireball.
So, yeah, he's been to the Misanthrope Commune and come back as the master, not the student, suggesting that all those years being dead has altered his perspective slightly. Not long after Linden learns that because of her link to the prime Earthpower, she can't touch either of them lest she disperse them entirely. But being he keeps insulting her, you start to wonder why she doesn't just give him a hearty slap on the back just for some peace and quiet.
Thus Donaldson tries to upend our expectations. And it would work, except he still seems convinced that layers and layers of introspection are a good substitute for the plot moving forward. Don't get me wrong, I've read Beckett, I'm okay with a little bit of stasis but a lot of the pondering involves the characters going over the same ground again and again, often in concentrated doses. If you think I'm exaggerating, let me point out that the first twenty pages of the book are given to Linden freaking out over not being able to hug her son or Covenant, like that's the biggest crisis facing them. It's not even the biggest one at that particular moment.
But once the middle school dance rules are settled, the quest attempts to get back in earnest and its . . . still nebulous. Linden is an atypical heroine and is honestly attempting to do her best given the circumstances but her plans seem to consist of doing what someone says until its clear that's not a good idea and then they shift to a different plan. Their first attempt is another trip back in time, during which we seem to learn that some interference is okay as Linden heals a bunch of people involved in a battle that probably would have died (yet in the last book they amscrayed out of an area to avoid starting a battle because that would have messed up history) but since the present day basically stinks its not clear how it could get much worse anyway. But its unclear if anyone knows what they're doing so its an open question if anyone would even notice.
And that's where the book gets maddening, switching from arresting to plodding, like you're trying driving with your dozing grandmother who keeps waking up just as you're getting some serious speed and chastises you for having such a lead foot because someone could get hurt. A confrontation that would have been a heck of a climax except it happens halfway through the book quickens the pulse slightly but too soon we're back to Linden reminding the reader every two pages she has to save her son and then waiting for someone to give her cryptic advice that will send her on another miles long journey.
Again, its not bad and Donaldson is good at conveying her confusion and the fact that there are a lot more players involved in this mess than there seems at first. But beyond "Save Jeremiah" Linden barely has motivation and while we don't need "gotta throw the ring in the volcano" levels of straightforward, it'd be nice for some clarity as to what everyone is working toward. Half the time Linden's grasping at straws and while characters with amazing names like the Theomach, the Harrow and the Mahdoubt may make you think the book is sponsored by "A Parent's Guide to Naming Gallifreyan Babies", their roles seem no clearer than anyone else's.
It just winds up being a strange soup of a novel, this gelatinous murk that burbles along calmly, with dark shapes just barely visible bobbing gently, until once in a while a hand or something will thrust through to the surface and surprise you. There's moments where it comes to life, where Linden meets a Forestal, the fight midway through the book, some of the Mahdoubt's conversations that hint at the stakes but just like the Dirt that covers the Land everything still seems muted. Few of the characters stand out beyond basic traits (its telling that although three Humbled eventually accompany her, I can't tell them apart) and given everyone is theoretically fighting for their survival, the level of urgency seems oddly low except for the numerous occassions where Linden reminds us all she wants to do is save her son.
The problem is, as she's written here, Linden can barely carry the book and her supporting cast isn't distinctive enough to lift her up. It keeps trying to throw different people at her, including a group of giants trying to restrain a crazy friend, but too often it seems like someone's blog of their cross-country travels and the accounts of all the quirky people they meet along the way. The truth is, the cast could reach the proverbial thousands. Nothing helps. The book itself seems to admit that toward the end, bringing back someone at the climax who could spice things up as much as it seems to suggest she's way over her head. Its a weird stance for the book to take and since we're only halfway through there's plenty of room for Donaldson to play with the themes he's started and toy with our expectations. But by that same token we're already halfway through and its hard to shake the feeling that we're still in the process of getting started.
August 1, 2022
4,5 stars - English Ebook
Review follows later.
Review follows later.
March 13, 2019
8/10
With the first novel, The Runes of the Earth, to have brought his triumphant return to the series that marked his career more than two decades ago, choosing to leave the last chapter aside in order to broaden his horizons and feel ready as a writer before tackling it, Stephen R. Donaldson plunges us deep into the past of the Land, taking us in Fatal Revenant, the second of four instalments of the Last Chronicles of Thomas Covenant, in a story of Masters, Demondim-spawn, great horses, prodigious warriors, mysterious figures, spectres and ancient evils, but also in an adventure of passion and trust, legends and survival, and Time and calamity; in a mesmerising, epic sequel.
Only a little time has passed since they reached the walls of the ancient stone castle, and the perils they eluded; yet now, with Kevin’s Dirt still exerting its baleful influence over the Land, diminishing the discernment of its people and leaving them blind against new evils, a horde of Demondim masses at the fields of Revelstone, preparing to advance towards its gates and unfurl the full virulence of its emerald power – but Linden Avery, having been translated again through Lord Foul’s schemes into the magical realm of the Land, crossing with a mad old man hundreds of leagues in search for the only instrument of power and risking the destruction of the world in order to redeem her adopted son from his plight, has been struck down to her knees.
Transfixed by the miraculous sight of the oncoming riders and the two strangers with them, closing everything around her from her attention and concentrating her gaze on the craving of her soul, Linden will hurry to meet the two people whom she had loved most in all the world, and hold them so she can alleviate her heart with their love.
However, with her former lover to have profoundly altered from the person that had loved and accepted her for who she was, seeing in his mien nothing but scorn and ire and not knowing how to believe him, when she attempts to locate and extinguish the source of the Demondim’s power, and his cryptic plans – displacing her through time and distance and exposing her to new perils – reveals her a sad truth that will harden her heart, Linden will find herself along with her companions on a rigorous journey towards the only means that can fulfil her need, fighting unremittingly against madmen, treachers, envious figures and insatiable lava monsters that will bring her to a great, undeniable challenge – a challenge which, if she fails to overcome the overwhelming obstacles of her purpose and open the door of wild magic within her, could prove fatal as much for her loved ones, friends and allies as for the Land itself.
Following the storyline directly after the end of The Runes of the Earth, having laid the foundations of the final series in the first instalment and picking up the plot-threads from where they left off, Stephen R. Donaldson explores once more the glories of the Land, taking us in Fatal Revenant back to Revelstone – now the seat and habitation of the Masters – from where the Haruchai hold their sway, taking in their hands the Mastery of the Land, and stewarding the realm and its people from Corruption; to Glimmermere, where the eldrich lake – fed from the hidden springs from the gutrock of the Earth – has preserved for millennia its mystic, potent waters untarnished, restoring the plateau to health and fertility, and renewing anyone who embraces its purity in strength and vitality; to Salva Gildenbourne, where the unruly forest – untamed by a Forestal or some other benign force – has grown without the benefit of lore, flourishing around the Hills of Andelain with life, and sprawling in a thick jungle; and to Andelain, where the ineffable Hills – home of the Wraiths and the Dead – has endured from the bale of the Sunbane and the loss of the last Forestal, suffusing them with Earthpower and health, and bestowing to anyone who crosses its boundaries its untrammelled bounty and loveliness.
But also into a distant age long before the Old Lords, where – provoked by the manipulations of Lord Foul’s servants – a bloody war wages between the Queen and her corrupted King, battling against each other season after season across the Land, and bringing the toll of sick, wounded and dead to the hundreds; to Garroting Deep, where in the dark and forbidding forest Caerroil Wildwood has made his demesne, protecting the remnant of the One Tree from anyone who dares threaten it, and renown him as an out-and-out butcher; and finally to Melenkurion Skyweir, where lies in the depths of the mountain the spring of EarthBlood, giving to those who drink it the Power of the Command, as well as the fulfilment of their deepest desires.
A second novel in which Donaldson, making a dive in time, delving this time into the past and history of the Land, and bringing to the forefront mysterious peoples, ancient races and legendary heroes, creates something unlike to anything before, building through his deft writing and rich imagination an epic story of unveiling mysteries, mesmerising and vivid descriptions, and intense battles, full of wonderment and depth.
A follow-up which, continuing with Linden’s single point of view, revealing her conflicting dilemmas between her doubt and distrust, and passion and necessity, as well as the weight of her son’s need, and the Land’s, that she carries, raises the stakes higher and higher, setting up – even if it takes a lot of time – with a meticulous care piece by piece his imagination, and managing to bring the plot in an apotheosis that leaves the characters’ future into uncertainty, but also the world hanging in a balance.
In the end, the Fatal Revenant is a long book that however worth its every moment, with Stephen R. Donaldson – rising again the stakes even higher – to set up his plot with meticulous care, showing again his great writing skills, as well as the illimitable scope of his imagination, and apotheosizing with a cliffhanger of unparalleled suspense.
*Ελληνική κριτική:
With the first novel, The Runes of the Earth, to have brought his triumphant return to the series that marked his career more than two decades ago, choosing to leave the last chapter aside in order to broaden his horizons and feel ready as a writer before tackling it, Stephen R. Donaldson plunges us deep into the past of the Land, taking us in Fatal Revenant, the second of four instalments of the Last Chronicles of Thomas Covenant, in a story of Masters, Demondim-spawn, great horses, prodigious warriors, mysterious figures, spectres and ancient evils, but also in an adventure of passion and trust, legends and survival, and Time and calamity; in a mesmerising, epic sequel.
Only a little time has passed since they reached the walls of the ancient stone castle, and the perils they eluded; yet now, with Kevin’s Dirt still exerting its baleful influence over the Land, diminishing the discernment of its people and leaving them blind against new evils, a horde of Demondim masses at the fields of Revelstone, preparing to advance towards its gates and unfurl the full virulence of its emerald power – but Linden Avery, having been translated again through Lord Foul’s schemes into the magical realm of the Land, crossing with a mad old man hundreds of leagues in search for the only instrument of power and risking the destruction of the world in order to redeem her adopted son from his plight, has been struck down to her knees.
Transfixed by the miraculous sight of the oncoming riders and the two strangers with them, closing everything around her from her attention and concentrating her gaze on the craving of her soul, Linden will hurry to meet the two people whom she had loved most in all the world, and hold them so she can alleviate her heart with their love.
However, with her former lover to have profoundly altered from the person that had loved and accepted her for who she was, seeing in his mien nothing but scorn and ire and not knowing how to believe him, when she attempts to locate and extinguish the source of the Demondim’s power, and his cryptic plans – displacing her through time and distance and exposing her to new perils – reveals her a sad truth that will harden her heart, Linden will find herself along with her companions on a rigorous journey towards the only means that can fulfil her need, fighting unremittingly against madmen, treachers, envious figures and insatiable lava monsters that will bring her to a great, undeniable challenge – a challenge which, if she fails to overcome the overwhelming obstacles of her purpose and open the door of wild magic within her, could prove fatal as much for her loved ones, friends and allies as for the Land itself.
Following the storyline directly after the end of The Runes of the Earth, having laid the foundations of the final series in the first instalment and picking up the plot-threads from where they left off, Stephen R. Donaldson explores once more the glories of the Land, taking us in Fatal Revenant back to Revelstone – now the seat and habitation of the Masters – from where the Haruchai hold their sway, taking in their hands the Mastery of the Land, and stewarding the realm and its people from Corruption; to Glimmermere, where the eldrich lake – fed from the hidden springs from the gutrock of the Earth – has preserved for millennia its mystic, potent waters untarnished, restoring the plateau to health and fertility, and renewing anyone who embraces its purity in strength and vitality; to Salva Gildenbourne, where the unruly forest – untamed by a Forestal or some other benign force – has grown without the benefit of lore, flourishing around the Hills of Andelain with life, and sprawling in a thick jungle; and to Andelain, where the ineffable Hills – home of the Wraiths and the Dead – has endured from the bale of the Sunbane and the loss of the last Forestal, suffusing them with Earthpower and health, and bestowing to anyone who crosses its boundaries its untrammelled bounty and loveliness.
But also into a distant age long before the Old Lords, where – provoked by the manipulations of Lord Foul’s servants – a bloody war wages between the Queen and her corrupted King, battling against each other season after season across the Land, and bringing the toll of sick, wounded and dead to the hundreds; to Garroting Deep, where in the dark and forbidding forest Caerroil Wildwood has made his demesne, protecting the remnant of the One Tree from anyone who dares threaten it, and renown him as an out-and-out butcher; and finally to Melenkurion Skyweir, where lies in the depths of the mountain the spring of EarthBlood, giving to those who drink it the Power of the Command, as well as the fulfilment of their deepest desires.
A second novel in which Donaldson, making a dive in time, delving this time into the past and history of the Land, and bringing to the forefront mysterious peoples, ancient races and legendary heroes, creates something unlike to anything before, building through his deft writing and rich imagination an epic story of unveiling mysteries, mesmerising and vivid descriptions, and intense battles, full of wonderment and depth.
A follow-up which, continuing with Linden’s single point of view, revealing her conflicting dilemmas between her doubt and distrust, and passion and necessity, as well as the weight of her son’s need, and the Land’s, that she carries, raises the stakes higher and higher, setting up – even if it takes a lot of time – with a meticulous care piece by piece his imagination, and managing to bring the plot in an apotheosis that leaves the characters’ future into uncertainty, but also the world hanging in a balance.
In the end, the Fatal Revenant is a long book that however worth its every moment, with Stephen R. Donaldson – rising again the stakes even higher – to set up his plot with meticulous care, showing again his great writing skills, as well as the illimitable scope of his imagination, and apotheosizing with a cliffhanger of unparalleled suspense.
*Ελληνική κριτική:
Read
July 21, 2023I won't add much. Almost everything I think has already been said by someone else. I will, eventually , finish volumes 9 & 10 but I agree wholeheartedly with the person who voiced a need to get out of The Land for a while. It's kind of an eldritch, inchoate feeling.
November 10, 2013
After the semmingly endless exposition of The Runes of the Earth, Donaldson returns with this complex and brutal chapter in the TC saga. Full of despair, betrayals, impossible situations that can have no satisying resolutions, and stunning sequences of epic narrative, this volume is marred only by it's episodic nature. As with TRotE, it's not an easy read, but the patient reader (and fans of Thomas Covenant are certainly that) is rewarded with a mature read that is as rich in hope and humanity as it is in despair and monstorus evil.
February 9, 2014
I wasn't too impressed with The Rune of the Earth, so by the laws of probability Fatal Revenant was going to be better.
Also the actual story improves, by which I mean a few things actually happen. Unfortunately the incredible slow pacing and Thesaurus begging prose made reading the whole book a slog.
By now I am largely reading this series just to finish it as reading 8/10 books is just too far along to stop.
Also the actual story improves, by which I mean a few things actually happen. Unfortunately the incredible slow pacing and Thesaurus begging prose made reading the whole book a slog.
By now I am largely reading this series just to finish it as reading 8/10 books is just too far along to stop.
December 8, 2010
"Frickety-frackety-frunk!" spat Covenant.
"He's right, Mom," said Jeremiah.
"I don't understand," Linden whined.
Jeez.
That's only the first part of this book, but Part Two doesn't get much better. Oh, well. I'm into the third book of the series now, and I suppose I'll have to finish it out.
Let's do this.
"He's right, Mom," said Jeremiah.
"I don't understand," Linden whined.
Jeez.
That's only the first part of this book, but Part Two doesn't get much better. Oh, well. I'm into the third book of the series now, and I suppose I'll have to finish it out.
Let's do this.
June 5, 2008
I've been pleasantly surprised by this third chronicle of the Land. It doesn't have the same impact at the original story about Covenant but Donaldson's a master story teller.
He also has a solid ear for names; rarely do they sound "off."
He also has a solid ear for names; rarely do they sound "off."
August 8, 2012
It's oood to be back in the land. As with the other books this one is a little slow in places but then the action and the travels of the companions in the story make up for everything. :)
August 1, 2021
Better than the first, so I'll continue with the series. But the series just doesn't match the previous ones.
May 2, 2018
A friend and fellow writer once described the Covenant books as one of the best fantasy settings ever created, utterly ruined by the main character. I pretty much agree with that. I read the first two series way back in high school, and was curious when I heard there was another. So I gave this a whirl.
I've heard many variations on the theme of could vs should. I'm not sure Donaldson should have written this one. The second series ended at a fine point to stop the tales of the Land (least creative name ever for a realm or world or whatever you want to call it). Donaldson also continues his love affair with the thesaurus, using obscure and complicated words to the point that it distracts from the story.
The earlier books had a lot of time jumps, and this is even further ahead. It focuses mostly on Covenant's ally/friend/lover Lindsay. She has her own challenges and obstacles to overcome, but hey, at least she doesn't rape anyone, so she's ahead of Covenant.
The tone of this series is just a lot heavier than the past ones, and those weren't light reading. I recommend the first series as a different kind of fantasy, and something worth looking at for the perspective. And the Land is an amazing place. This series just isn't quite as good in my humble opinion.
I've heard many variations on the theme of could vs should. I'm not sure Donaldson should have written this one. The second series ended at a fine point to stop the tales of the Land (least creative name ever for a realm or world or whatever you want to call it). Donaldson also continues his love affair with the thesaurus, using obscure and complicated words to the point that it distracts from the story.
The earlier books had a lot of time jumps, and this is even further ahead. It focuses mostly on Covenant's ally/friend/lover Lindsay. She has her own challenges and obstacles to overcome, but hey, at least she doesn't rape anyone, so she's ahead of Covenant.
The tone of this series is just a lot heavier than the past ones, and those weren't light reading. I recommend the first series as a different kind of fantasy, and something worth looking at for the perspective. And the Land is an amazing place. This series just isn't quite as good in my humble opinion.
April 24, 2020
This is another solid installment in the Last Chronicles where we get to see a lot of the ancient, well-known figures of the Land--Berek, Damelon, sandgorgons, ur-viles, Demondim, Infelice, Giants, and so on. I enjoyed those aspects of the book, though I think this book does have weaknesses. Mainly, those weakness come down to two elements for me--the Insequent and the deus ex machina that occurs in several battle scenes. Like always, the characters in this series won't necessarily act as you would think they would act. It's frustrating at the beginning with the anticipated reunion of Covenant and Jeremiah with Linden that doesn't really happen. We get an edgier, gruffer Covenant than we are even used to. We as readers looked forward to this reunion after the ending lines of Runes of the Earth. So we get a good taste of the disappointment and confusion of Linden as she cannot embrace or even contact her son and Covenant. I think in this book Linden becomes a better character. I know a lot of readers don't like Linden a lot as a character, but she shows toughness, the ability to think for herself, and resourcefulness in this book consistently. For instance, she takes it upon herself to destroy the caesures feeding the Demondim's Illearth Stone. That took guts and determination, especially since it is right after the scene where she is disappointed after meeting Covenant and Jeremiah. Her resourcefulness is evident too by dipping the Staff of Life into the Earthblood to fight off the croyel and Roger. Also, she summons the sandgorgons when she is at the end of her rope at the battle at First Woodhelvin. Stave is also a good character for me, mainly because he changes and stands down his own tribe to do what he thinks is right. He is what the Haruchai/Bloodguard/Masters could be if they could get past their damn self-righteousness. The Giants--I always love the Giants, some of the best characters in fantasy literature, and it's awesome to meet a new group. There are a variety of negatives in this book too, though, even though I love the Land and a lot of the characters in this series so much that those weaknesses pale in comparison for me. I just think this is fantasy for adults since it treats major themes and it's character-driven rather than plot- or magic-driven. Not that great plots and magic are inconsistent with major themes--I think some of Sanderson's work is evidence of this—but I find that Donaldson asks a lot of his readers, meaning that he asks you to embrace the flaws and realities of flesh-and-blood humans in impossible situations. Anyhow, the Insequent--I am not a big fan of introducing these characters later in the series, meaning later in the Chronicles, especially when their purpose is still not very clear. The only important actions they have taken are the Theomach’s re-direction of the Covenant/Jeremiah/Linden time hump back to Berek’s time, a detail that Donaldson could have just written into the story regardless, and then the Harrow’s destruction of the Demondim, which is significant, though I am not sure that Donaldson couldn’t have figured out another way to end the Demondim. We are to take away from the final scene that the Elohim and the Insequent balance each other in some way—form versus knowledge or the subjective and the objective. Something like that. But we are still awaiting a final reveal on what this signifies. I recall that the Harrow plays a larger role in the next book, but I do not recall a lot of details, so I will allay my concerns on this note for now. The other major issue is that the battles in this book really are not very costly in a lot of ways for the characters due to the deus ex machina involved. So at the battle at First Woodhelvin, don’t get me wrong in that I definitely did a fist pump when the sandgorgons showed up, but that was definitely one out of left field. It’s hard to buy that the sandgorgons felt a debt to Covenant that they willingly transferred to Linden. It’s even harder to buy that they have not been corrupted completely by partaking in the Raver’s soul. Then, throw in the fact that the only harm to Linden’s party at this horrific battle was blindness for Mahrtiir and that fact stretches credulity a good bit. Also, with the battle in Salva Gildenbourne, we lost a couple Giants that we didn’t even know, and that’s it. Donaldson basically invests so much into his characters that he does not like killing them off—sort of an anti-George R.R. Martin. In that battle too, Liand figures out that rain does in the skurj, which is very fortuitous timing. Still, I do really enjoy the Liand character and his growth. So the battles left a little to be desired, but still the book was enjoyable to me just because I love the characters and the Land. I knew Linden’s goal was the resurrection of Covenant, but it still is quite an ending to the book, though we also get a troubling note that her action has roused the Worm of the World’s End, which I must admit is a trope that I never really got. It’s a little Dune-esque and a little deistic to me, and the trope just doesn’t seem to work in my mind. How does the Worm relate to the Arch of Time? The Land might be destroyed in two ways—the destruction of the Arch and the rousing of the Worm, it seems. This trope also occurs in the Malazan series (I am in book four, the House of Chains right now) with the idea of Burn’s Sleep. All reality is dependent on inhabiting this sleeping god’s body? Again, doesn’t really work for me, though I love both Malazan and Covenant. Anyhow, just my thoughts. On to Against All Things Ending.
Read
September 19, 2020I enjoyed the book probably a bit over descriptive in places and I feel sure some of the words he uses are made up or just unnecessarily complicated. Donaldson has a style of writing that keeps the reader very frustrated I can see why it would put people off reading his books as it has been the theme throughout the full Covenant tales. I have found this book and the last book harder to read than the first two chronicles (6 books) and hope the third and fourth are easier.
April 3, 2017
Great writing but such a long read. Donaldson is amazing but sometimes his intricate story web can be so tiring. Similar to the middle works of both series one and two, this Thomas Covenant book again leaves the reader in exhausted suspense like books one and two of the Lord of the Rings. Donaldson vocabulary is absolutely beyond belief.
June 25, 2009
I'll probably stick with it simply because I've gotten this far, but this series has now well and truly worn on me. It all seems to come down to a series of journeys, one after the other. They're always either heading somewhere or on their way back from somewhere else which causes about 70% of the book to be filler between significant events (5% of which is Donaldson abusing his pet-word, "lambent".). This is compounded by the fact that the entire book is told without exception from the viewpoint of one protagonist. Which is very unfortunate when that protagonist is Linden Avery; a woman who seems to have nothing to express the whole time except hopeless confusion about what's going on and angst over her missing son. She doesn't even have the lovable Scrooge-like crotchetiness that made Thomas Covenant bearable. This book does have a larger and more intriguing supporting cast than any previous ones in the series, but the author just doesn't seem interested in exploring them that deeply. A few chapters focusing on Stave or Liand or one of the many interesting antagonists (there's a good baker's dozen in this book) would have really livened things up, although pacing issues would still have kept this from being five stars for me. The book also has this weird almost-climax in the middle, making it feel like two separate stories. I could have done without at least one of them. I know I'll still have to find out what happens, but now I'm not really looking forward to it.
August 18, 2008
VDonaldsons stories of the Land filled my teen years with great joy. Even in the wounded land when he caused me great pain. In his own words "the best way to hurt some one is to take away something they love and give it back broken."
The Runes of the earth and its sequal Fatal Revenant continue this saga. thomas Covanant is dead and the torch is passed to his companion of the second trilogy Linden Avery.
Frankly I was disappointed. I can hardly wait to see what happens but these are not Stephen Donalson's best work. Hopefully the promised final two enstallments are more fulfilling.
The Runes of the earth and its sequal Fatal Revenant continue this saga. thomas Covanant is dead and the torch is passed to his companion of the second trilogy Linden Avery.
Frankly I was disappointed. I can hardly wait to see what happens but these are not Stephen Donalson's best work. Hopefully the promised final two enstallments are more fulfilling.
May 13, 2013
Re-read this (Book 2 of the Last Chronicles, Book 8 in the complete saga) in my grand re-read of the entire Thomas Covenenat series, culminating in Book 10 (being published this October)! This is the audio version by the always outstanding Scott Brick. Complex and intricate - I loved every minute of it!
February 13, 2022
No one else writes like Stephen R. Donaldson, and that continues to be both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, he represents a unique and transformative voice in fantasy literature. The choices he made to take the genre into a darker, less naive, and more psychologically intricate space were groundbreaking. Without Donaldson, would there have been a Tad Williams, Robert Jordan, or George R.R. Martin? On the other hand, the man's self-indulgent writing style remains tedious and frustrating, even to those of us who care about his characters and themes. This book, for example, could easily have been 20% shorter without losing a step. And let's not even get started on Donaldson's archaic and obscure word choices.
In the second volume of this tetralogy, Donaldson picks up exactly where The Runes of the Earth ended, with the figures of Thomas Covenant and Linden's son Jeremiah riding toward Revelstone. When they arrive, they behave strangely, and request that Linden not touch them. Although the threat of the Demondim remains at the gates, Covenant insists that they have a more important quest to attend to - they must return to a time earlier in the Land's history and drink from the Blood of the Earth. Skeptical, but unsure of what else to do, Linden travels back in time with the two familiar yet strange men, who still refuse to explain how they are alive. Covenant provides a half-assed explanation about "folding time" and being in two places at once, but it doesn't make much sense.
The quest for the Blood of the Earth takes up the first half of the novel and is long enough to have been its own story. The journey concludes with a massive, but not completely unexpected revelation that still managed to take me off guard. I was impressed with Donaldson's ability to both foreshadow this outcome, but also keep parts of it hidden. There is some nice literary sleight-of-hand in his storytelling.
The second half of the book returns Linden to her place in the original timeline, where she gathers her companions and sets off of a second quest: She must find Loric's krill, an object that will allow her to channel the power of both the white gold and the Staff of Law in her fight against Lord Foul. What she intends to do with this power is vague, but we know that she still needs to find Jeremiah's true location, and perhaps end the Falls caused by Joan's mad ravings. The krill is located deep in the heart of Andelain, but the company will face many challenges and several battles before arriving there. Eventually, there is another cataclysmic scene and a second massive revelation ends the book. The second "reveal" stunned me. Again, it probably shouldn't have - much is foreshadowed - but the busyness of Donaldson's storytelling, and the angst of Linden and the other characters, kept me from dwelling on what was likely to happen when she finally had enough power to do it. It is a death-defying cliffhanger, and it actually left me wanting more.
Damn it.
I continue to be conflicted about these books. The level of invention remains high; far more than in the previous volume, Donaldson leans into fresh ideas, bringing in new characters, magics, and complications. The self-doubt and confusion Linden experiences mirrors what we came to expect of Covenant in the previous series, giving us a through-line despite the absence of the titular character. But wow, the man could really use an editor. Several of the episodes in each of the quests feel absolutely irrelevant and probably should have been eliminated. There is too much expansion relative to the amount of progression.
Also, too much is redundant. We don't need to enter the thoughts of each character at every decision point, and go through all the possibilities. Checking in with their internal monologues every so often would be enough. And don't even get me started about the word choices. If I have to read the word puissant one more time, I might gag.
Still, I am now eager to know what happens next. That fact alone tells me something about the power of Donaldson's mythos. My greatest fear of course is that he won't be able to land the plane - that the final volume of this 10-book epic will not satisfy or resolve the story in meaningful ways. However, that's a problem for another day. Fatal Revenant does its job as a middle chapter, revealing some things, while complicating others. It leaves the reader on a precipice and tells them to get ready to jump. Bombs away.
In the second volume of this tetralogy, Donaldson picks up exactly where The Runes of the Earth ended, with the figures of Thomas Covenant and Linden's son Jeremiah riding toward Revelstone. When they arrive, they behave strangely, and request that Linden not touch them. Although the threat of the Demondim remains at the gates, Covenant insists that they have a more important quest to attend to - they must return to a time earlier in the Land's history and drink from the Blood of the Earth. Skeptical, but unsure of what else to do, Linden travels back in time with the two familiar yet strange men, who still refuse to explain how they are alive. Covenant provides a half-assed explanation about "folding time" and being in two places at once, but it doesn't make much sense.
The quest for the Blood of the Earth takes up the first half of the novel and is long enough to have been its own story. The journey concludes with a massive, but not completely unexpected revelation that still managed to take me off guard. I was impressed with Donaldson's ability to both foreshadow this outcome, but also keep parts of it hidden. There is some nice literary sleight-of-hand in his storytelling.
The second half of the book returns Linden to her place in the original timeline, where she gathers her companions and sets off of a second quest: She must find Loric's krill, an object that will allow her to channel the power of both the white gold and the Staff of Law in her fight against Lord Foul. What she intends to do with this power is vague, but we know that she still needs to find Jeremiah's true location, and perhaps end the Falls caused by Joan's mad ravings. The krill is located deep in the heart of Andelain, but the company will face many challenges and several battles before arriving there. Eventually, there is another cataclysmic scene and a second massive revelation ends the book. The second "reveal" stunned me. Again, it probably shouldn't have - much is foreshadowed - but the busyness of Donaldson's storytelling, and the angst of Linden and the other characters, kept me from dwelling on what was likely to happen when she finally had enough power to do it. It is a death-defying cliffhanger, and it actually left me wanting more.
Damn it.
I continue to be conflicted about these books. The level of invention remains high; far more than in the previous volume, Donaldson leans into fresh ideas, bringing in new characters, magics, and complications. The self-doubt and confusion Linden experiences mirrors what we came to expect of Covenant in the previous series, giving us a through-line despite the absence of the titular character. But wow, the man could really use an editor. Several of the episodes in each of the quests feel absolutely irrelevant and probably should have been eliminated. There is too much expansion relative to the amount of progression.
Also, too much is redundant. We don't need to enter the thoughts of each character at every decision point, and go through all the possibilities. Checking in with their internal monologues every so often would be enough. And don't even get me started about the word choices. If I have to read the word puissant one more time, I might gag.
Still, I am now eager to know what happens next. That fact alone tells me something about the power of Donaldson's mythos. My greatest fear of course is that he won't be able to land the plane - that the final volume of this 10-book epic will not satisfy or resolve the story in meaningful ways. However, that's a problem for another day. Fatal Revenant does its job as a middle chapter, revealing some things, while complicating others. It leaves the reader on a precipice and tells them to get ready to jump. Bombs away.
July 13, 2018
This is the 2nd book of the Last Chronicles of Thomas Covenant, and is a solid addition to the Covenant series as a whole.
It is difficult to review this book without providing massive spoilers, both for this one and for its predecessor. Even telling one what the basic plot is about, can spoil Runes of the Earth (book 1 of the series). Therefore, I will not summarize the plot here. I also urge readers not to peruse even the blurb on the book jacket. If you value being surprised as the author intended, then read only the book's interior.
I make these warnings because there are some real brain-twisters in this novel. Donaldson pulls out all the stops to tie up previous loose ends in entirely surprising ways. He also creates new dangling threads, of course, and these will lead into the last couple of novels.
Perhaps my favorite aspect of this book, and its predecessor, is that despite the fact that we are 3,500 years since the second Chronicles, 7,000 or so years from the first Chronicles, and about 10,000 years since the time of Berek Half-hand, Donaldson manages to find ways to provide us with ever increasing detail about the ancient times in the Land. I don't know if he had everything mapped out all those years ago, or if he has made up the material just for this story, but if he did the latter, he was brilliant about it -- at least on a first reading, I could detect no plot holes, no flinches in the continuity. Everything fits; everything works. Even the revelation of a second, powerful Elohim-like race, which it seems should have been hinted at in the first two Chronicles, is adequately explained.
Donaldson is also adept at bringing us back to our old favorite locales, but in new ways. In this novel, Linden visits at least a half-dozen places we have seen before. And many old characters and races of characters have returned. From Waynhim to Gilden tress to Revelstone, the Land is present in all its past glory. If you loved the Land from the first two Chronicles, you will enjoy reading this book.
That isn't to say, of course, that everything is peachy. Far from it. This is a Donaldson novel, after all. Linden has hardly two minutes together to rest throughout the entire 600-ish pages of this book. One crisis follows on another without hardly any respite. But the setting Donaldson created in 1977 and continued throughout the early 80s, is fully present and realized as always. In that sense, he doesn't miss a beat.
Donaldson's prose remains a thing of beauty. Few writers possess his ability for descriptive metaphor, and he has largely retained that talent over the years. I will admit, there are a few chinks in the armor this time -- he uses certain 50-cent words just a little too often and it becomes noticeable. A few paragraphs clearly needed a little more revising -- something I don't recall ever noticing in the original 6 books. But these are minor trivialities that occur a few times in nearly 600 pages. With this volume of material, I can't blame him for a handful of lapses that amount to less than half a page of text combined.
Overall this is a highly enjoyable novel. Although I can't help but give all of the Covenant books 5 stars, because they are so head-and-shoulders above anything else in the genre save Lord of the Rings, and picking among them is almost like picking your children, I would have to rate this one a little bit lower than the previous novel (Runes of the Earth). It's not quite as tight as Runes, mostly because the two "parts" of this novel really feel like two completely different novels, whereas this was not the case in book 1. It's still excellent of course, but not quite as wonderful as Runes of the Earth.
It is difficult to review this book without providing massive spoilers, both for this one and for its predecessor. Even telling one what the basic plot is about, can spoil Runes of the Earth (book 1 of the series). Therefore, I will not summarize the plot here. I also urge readers not to peruse even the blurb on the book jacket. If you value being surprised as the author intended, then read only the book's interior.
I make these warnings because there are some real brain-twisters in this novel. Donaldson pulls out all the stops to tie up previous loose ends in entirely surprising ways. He also creates new dangling threads, of course, and these will lead into the last couple of novels.
Perhaps my favorite aspect of this book, and its predecessor, is that despite the fact that we are 3,500 years since the second Chronicles, 7,000 or so years from the first Chronicles, and about 10,000 years since the time of Berek Half-hand, Donaldson manages to find ways to provide us with ever increasing detail about the ancient times in the Land. I don't know if he had everything mapped out all those years ago, or if he has made up the material just for this story, but if he did the latter, he was brilliant about it -- at least on a first reading, I could detect no plot holes, no flinches in the continuity. Everything fits; everything works. Even the revelation of a second, powerful Elohim-like race, which it seems should have been hinted at in the first two Chronicles, is adequately explained.
Donaldson is also adept at bringing us back to our old favorite locales, but in new ways. In this novel, Linden visits at least a half-dozen places we have seen before. And many old characters and races of characters have returned. From Waynhim to Gilden tress to Revelstone, the Land is present in all its past glory. If you loved the Land from the first two Chronicles, you will enjoy reading this book.
That isn't to say, of course, that everything is peachy. Far from it. This is a Donaldson novel, after all. Linden has hardly two minutes together to rest throughout the entire 600-ish pages of this book. One crisis follows on another without hardly any respite. But the setting Donaldson created in 1977 and continued throughout the early 80s, is fully present and realized as always. In that sense, he doesn't miss a beat.
Donaldson's prose remains a thing of beauty. Few writers possess his ability for descriptive metaphor, and he has largely retained that talent over the years. I will admit, there are a few chinks in the armor this time -- he uses certain 50-cent words just a little too often and it becomes noticeable. A few paragraphs clearly needed a little more revising -- something I don't recall ever noticing in the original 6 books. But these are minor trivialities that occur a few times in nearly 600 pages. With this volume of material, I can't blame him for a handful of lapses that amount to less than half a page of text combined.
Overall this is a highly enjoyable novel. Although I can't help but give all of the Covenant books 5 stars, because they are so head-and-shoulders above anything else in the genre save Lord of the Rings, and picking among them is almost like picking your children, I would have to rate this one a little bit lower than the previous novel (Runes of the Earth). It's not quite as tight as Runes, mostly because the two "parts" of this novel really feel like two completely different novels, whereas this was not the case in book 1. It's still excellent of course, but not quite as wonderful as Runes of the Earth.
June 13, 2019
I have to be as doggedly persistent in finishing the series this time as Donaldson surely was in over-writing it. Tortuously tedious, agonizingly slow, maddening paralysis of yet another main character - there is little to root for in Linden Avery, and he does her no favors, and sadly immemorable... It turns out I did read this when it came out but only remembered one partial revelation and was only finally able to recognize the actual reveal when it happened. I recall little from the first reading and there is good reason for that.
Donaldson is the master of forbearing the utilization of a diminutive utterance when an obscure polysyllabic synonym will suffice. Oh, his obscurities are not archaic, but they are seldom used, and while a "trademark" the reader has no choice in accepting, they have long served to embellish his stories since his first trilogy. And his skill at description is distorted into parody. I've already said tedious, but it is an apt description that bears repeating. This book is hundreds of pages longer than it should have been. Peter Jackson stretched a short novel into three movies (yes, his fan fiction silliness added a lot of extraneous to an already good story), Donaldson stretched a long book into a ponderous tome.
Stoic companions. Paralyzed central character. Maddening internalizations. Even more maddeningly rushed denouement. Add in the introduction of a new set of players of varying and considerable powers, who profess an interest in the outcome of the play yet had no appearance in the previous two series when the outcome played quite dire, is troublesome (though uncharacteristically sparely explained away.) They seem to be contrivances to draw out an already overly long arc. Perhaps that is why the last trilogy has four books. [Note: I rarely summarize fiction plots, mainly because I think it unfair to the author (there are plenty of people who do for those on the hunt, and there is almost always a teaser blurb.) And I think it unfair to the reader who, like me, dislikes spoilers.]
I know I have only read 16 pages of the next book (that I recall, along with 47 words into it, Donaldson drops one of those trademarks), and I also know I remember not reading more. I need a break to concentrate on some educational reading, and two advance review copies, before I attempt the next. But this time, I will finish the series.
Donaldson is the master of forbearing the utilization of a diminutive utterance when an obscure polysyllabic synonym will suffice. Oh, his obscurities are not archaic, but they are seldom used, and while a "trademark" the reader has no choice in accepting, they have long served to embellish his stories since his first trilogy. And his skill at description is distorted into parody. I've already said tedious, but it is an apt description that bears repeating. This book is hundreds of pages longer than it should have been. Peter Jackson stretched a short novel into three movies (yes, his fan fiction silliness added a lot of extraneous to an already good story), Donaldson stretched a long book into a ponderous tome.
Stoic companions. Paralyzed central character. Maddening internalizations. Even more maddeningly rushed denouement. Add in the introduction of a new set of players of varying and considerable powers, who profess an interest in the outcome of the play yet had no appearance in the previous two series when the outcome played quite dire, is troublesome (though uncharacteristically sparely explained away.) They seem to be contrivances to draw out an already overly long arc. Perhaps that is why the last trilogy has four books. [Note: I rarely summarize fiction plots, mainly because I think it unfair to the author (there are plenty of people who do for those on the hunt, and there is almost always a teaser blurb.) And I think it unfair to the reader who, like me, dislikes spoilers.]
I know I have only read 16 pages of the next book (that I recall, along with 47 words into it, Donaldson drops one of those trademarks), and I also know I remember not reading more. I need a break to concentrate on some educational reading, and two advance review copies, before I attempt the next. But this time, I will finish the series.
May 15, 2021
aka "With Companions Like These, Who Needs Lord Foul?"
Between a first half rife with deception and betrayal and a second half brimmed with the newly-revealed Insequent race, various Elohim-esque manifestations and the ever-frustrating Haruchai Doubt-Squad(tm), Linden Avery finds herself on a journey persistently haunted by angst, fear and self-doubt. She spends her time surrounded for the most part by companions who are either blindly-loyal to her, directly drawn by her power, or outright treacherous. There's even a recurring expressed perception - from multiple sources - that her actions in the final pages of the second trilogy (the forging of the new Staff of Law) were the direct cause of the peril that the Land experiences now. With companions like these, indeed.
This is a book about loneliness amongst company, and the self-compromise, hardened shielding, and relentless focus on a singular purpose that is required to prevent oneself from going mad as a result.
Readers coming into the book may expect a warm and overdue family reunion, but Donaldson rips away the expected event alluded to on the final page of Book 1 without delay, and instead sets Avery on a journey of frustration. My biggest problem with the first half is that the nature of the depicted deception is way too obvious to the reader from the very start (if not the reasoning behind it), but Avery is blinded by love and simply cannot see it. In a very early chapter, a first-time reader could put a marker on the map for YOU ARE HERE and another one for BETRAYAL WILL HAPPEN HERE, and they'd easily get it right. I feel like a delayed reveal to the reader would have been more impactful here, and not cost the mystery needed to preserve the narrative. As it stands, the journey weighs heavily early and often on the reader with a sense of impatience, of wanting to be done with the part of this story where the protagonist is blindly led about by obvious ill intent. Regardless, when the mid-book climax does arrive, it is a terrifying and painful affair, and does contain unexpected revelations that no reader could predict beyond the presence of the deception itself.
The first half finale sets up Avery to depart from her physician's ethos of "first do no harm", which adds to the foreshadowing surrounding the second half's arc. As with the second trilogy's middle book The One Tree, the protagonist is hell-bent on a thing (albeit this time including a secret goal), and every force within earshot is trying to dissuade them. And thus, as is so often the case in Donaldson's books, the reader's sense of doom grows rapidly as the final pages near, even as the protagonist's crew passes into the safest and most beautiful part of the Land. Like the protagonist, the reader tries keeps a flicker of hope alive in the finale against a monstrous wave of prophesized destruction.
If you were to describe Avery's final and secret intent to a series fan who has not read any of the final trilogy's books, they would be delighted, because what a wonderful thing to want. And indeed, in the finale, wonders abound... at a terrible cost.
Between a first half rife with deception and betrayal and a second half brimmed with the newly-revealed Insequent race, various Elohim-esque manifestations and the ever-frustrating Haruchai Doubt-Squad(tm), Linden Avery finds herself on a journey persistently haunted by angst, fear and self-doubt. She spends her time surrounded for the most part by companions who are either blindly-loyal to her, directly drawn by her power, or outright treacherous. There's even a recurring expressed perception - from multiple sources - that her actions in the final pages of the second trilogy (the forging of the new Staff of Law) were the direct cause of the peril that the Land experiences now. With companions like these, indeed.
This is a book about loneliness amongst company, and the self-compromise, hardened shielding, and relentless focus on a singular purpose that is required to prevent oneself from going mad as a result.
Readers coming into the book may expect a warm and overdue family reunion, but Donaldson rips away the expected event alluded to on the final page of Book 1 without delay, and instead sets Avery on a journey of frustration. My biggest problem with the first half is that the nature of the depicted deception is way too obvious to the reader from the very start (if not the reasoning behind it), but Avery is blinded by love and simply cannot see it. In a very early chapter, a first-time reader could put a marker on the map for YOU ARE HERE and another one for BETRAYAL WILL HAPPEN HERE, and they'd easily get it right. I feel like a delayed reveal to the reader would have been more impactful here, and not cost the mystery needed to preserve the narrative. As it stands, the journey weighs heavily early and often on the reader with a sense of impatience, of wanting to be done with the part of this story where the protagonist is blindly led about by obvious ill intent. Regardless, when the mid-book climax does arrive, it is a terrifying and painful affair, and does contain unexpected revelations that no reader could predict beyond the presence of the deception itself.
The first half finale sets up Avery to depart from her physician's ethos of "first do no harm", which adds to the foreshadowing surrounding the second half's arc. As with the second trilogy's middle book The One Tree, the protagonist is hell-bent on a thing (albeit this time including a secret goal), and every force within earshot is trying to dissuade them. And thus, as is so often the case in Donaldson's books, the reader's sense of doom grows rapidly as the final pages near, even as the protagonist's crew passes into the safest and most beautiful part of the Land. Like the protagonist, the reader tries keeps a flicker of hope alive in the finale against a monstrous wave of prophesized destruction.
If you were to describe Avery's final and secret intent to a series fan who has not read any of the final trilogy's books, they would be delighted, because what a wonderful thing to want. And indeed, in the finale, wonders abound... at a terrible cost.
June 3, 2019
This was long.
So, this is the second book in the Final Chronicles of Thomas Covenant. It starts with Thomas Covenant, who is dead, and Jeremiah, Linden's son (she's the main character this time around) who is sadly unable to speak or respond at all in our world, but appears well and whole in The Land, albeit clearly not very fond of his adopted mother who has done everything for him for years. Which is sad.
Covenant turns out to be a bit of a dick, which is not the Thomas Covenant Linden fell in love with in the Second Chronicles, and so my spidey senses were screaming that this probably wasn't actually Thomas, but in fact an imposter.
I was right.
After taking Linden 10,000 years out of her timeline to drink the water of the Earth Blood (a stream), it is revealed that Thomas Covenant is in fact his son Roger Covenant who is an absolute bastard and under the pay of Lord Foul, The Despiser. Jeremiah is only able to walk and talk thanks to the fact that he has a parasitic croyel on his back feeding on his life and controlling him. Nice.
Linden manages to get back to her real time after escaping from Melenkurion Skyweir (a large mountain) and then sets of with her band of helpers towards Andelain, despite many warnings not to do so, as she needs to get Loric's krill - a sword of great power - and also to converse with her Dead - Thomas Covenant (the real one) among others to ask for help.
The journey there is fraught with dangers and attacks and horrible things happening but they reach Andelain eventually, after picking up a band of Giants on the way (which is always nice because Giants are just nice and jolly most of the time).
Linden finds the krill and calls the dead and brings Thomas Covenant back to the land of the living, but we are left at the end of the book with the implicit understanding that this was a really bad idea...
I love the Thomas Covenant books, they are so well written and The Land is clearly deeply known to the author. But blimey, it goes on. There is far more to it than I've written here and it is brilliant but I am very glad I've finished it and I am going to go and read something a little lighter!
I've given 4 stars, because as a series, as a collection of characters, as an idea I love it. This individual book was hard work, more so than any of the others, but that's not a bad thing.
So, this is the second book in the Final Chronicles of Thomas Covenant. It starts with Thomas Covenant, who is dead, and Jeremiah, Linden's son (she's the main character this time around) who is sadly unable to speak or respond at all in our world, but appears well and whole in The Land, albeit clearly not very fond of his adopted mother who has done everything for him for years. Which is sad.
Covenant turns out to be a bit of a dick, which is not the Thomas Covenant Linden fell in love with in the Second Chronicles, and so my spidey senses were screaming that this probably wasn't actually Thomas, but in fact an imposter.
I was right.
After taking Linden 10,000 years out of her timeline to drink the water of the Earth Blood (a stream), it is revealed that Thomas Covenant is in fact his son Roger Covenant who is an absolute bastard and under the pay of Lord Foul, The Despiser. Jeremiah is only able to walk and talk thanks to the fact that he has a parasitic croyel on his back feeding on his life and controlling him. Nice.
Linden manages to get back to her real time after escaping from Melenkurion Skyweir (a large mountain) and then sets of with her band of helpers towards Andelain, despite many warnings not to do so, as she needs to get Loric's krill - a sword of great power - and also to converse with her Dead - Thomas Covenant (the real one) among others to ask for help.
The journey there is fraught with dangers and attacks and horrible things happening but they reach Andelain eventually, after picking up a band of Giants on the way (which is always nice because Giants are just nice and jolly most of the time).
Linden finds the krill and calls the dead and brings Thomas Covenant back to the land of the living, but we are left at the end of the book with the implicit understanding that this was a really bad idea...
I love the Thomas Covenant books, they are so well written and The Land is clearly deeply known to the author. But blimey, it goes on. There is far more to it than I've written here and it is brilliant but I am very glad I've finished it and I am going to go and read something a little lighter!
I've given 4 stars, because as a series, as a collection of characters, as an idea I love it. This individual book was hard work, more so than any of the others, but that's not a bad thing.
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