It hasn’t been that long since I cracked the virtual spine on a new fantasy series, but it has been a while since I began one that felt like this.
(Um, Sean? Can you maybe, I don’t know, define what “this” is, on account of the fact that empathetic internet is, as of yet, at least still a few years away?)
“This” is fully realized, well written and conceived, and faithful to some of the most tried and true fantasy tropes while simultaneously standing one very big one on its heads (namely, and I don’t think I’m spoiling anything that’s not in the title of the book here, that our main character, Fitz, is being trained to be an assassin, a line of work that is not generally considered sympatico vis-à-vis being a heroic paragon of virtue).
As much as anything, this is a coming of age story, and it’s paced accordingly. You know how, growing up, your life is marked by milestones (first sleepover, staying home alone the first time, first kiss, driver’s license, first time you manage to kill a dracolich in a game of 2nd edition AD&D (an event that likely transpired long, long before your first kiss)) that break up an otherwise monotonous cycle of school, chores, hanging out with friends, exploring the wondrous things that can happen when you spend time alone with a bottle of Jurgens contemplating the shower scene in National Lampoon’s Vacation, etc.? That’s basically what reading The Assassin’s Apprentice is like, but that’s neither a critique nor an indicator that it’s in any way boring. Monotony generally implies boringness, but I would argue that all of those repetitive activities you undertook growing up incrementally formed your character (or, at least, chafed your most sensitive parts, depending on how frequently you indulged in thoughts of an in-her-prime Beverly D’Angelo). So it is for Fitz, and watching him undergo his journey—slow and painful though it can occasionally be—is a delight.
Hobb builds her world methodically, brick by brick; she manages to deftly balance driving the story forward while highlighting the unique features of the world, and never once do you feel as though you’re on world-building data dump overload. Her writing is a delight, and she conjures a feel reminiscent of some of the fantasy luminaries I enjoyed working my way through when I really started to get into reading fantasy late in high school (the two who come foremost to mind, in terms of making a tonal comparison, are David Eddings and Raymond Feist).
Would I have liked a little bit more action here and there, a little more with the swords and the heroics and magic fireballs? Sure. But, that’s true in real life as well. Who doesn’t love fireballs? Nonetheless, I’m more than sufficiently hooked to continue on, to see if Fitz can remain a sympathetic character as he moves from apprentice assassin to the master assassin, to explore more of this intriguing world, and to go dig out my old VHS copy of Vacation.
(And, hey—how can you not love a book that starts off with a man sleeping with animals in the first 10 pages? Just sleeping, people—no funny business. Get your minds out of the gutter, you filthy perverts.)