Its jacket covered with hyperbolic praise, this book intrigued me enough that I borrowed it from our local library. Reviewers compare it, ecstatically, to both the Song of Ice and Fire and the Lord of the Rings, though in some measure surpassing both of them. Well, comparisons to LotR are de rigeur for any fantasy novel wanting to be taken seriously. But why compare this to GRR Martin's series? For the first hundred pages, the comparison seems nonsensical. But then it starts to make a twisted sense. "The Darkness that Comes Before" tries to take aspects of "The Song of Ice and Fire" - in large part, many of the more unpleasant aspects - and surpass them. The book follows multiple characters, but it doesn't follow the clear delineation by chapter break that GRRM does - it's like an MTV jump-cut version of character POV, as Bakker switches without warning between characters from one section to the next. Thankfully, much of the time which character is speaking can be inferred by the context of the location/setting. Sadly, each of the characters is reprehensible, as if "The Song of Ice and Fire" had been rewritten with only Lannister characters (excluding Tyrion - he's too sympathetic).
Worst of all is the series' titular character, Anasurimbor Kellhus, later jokingly called "the Prince of Nothing," who is such an unabashed villain that I spent most of the novel building up a crazy hope that the author was going to kill off the character in a suitably nasty way. As a result, the most sympathetic, relatable character is the insane barbarian Cnaiur, who, while being a horrible piece of work himself, earns the gratitude of the readers by being the only character to recognize what an inhuman monster Kellhus is. By the end of the novel, if you're like me you'll be rooting for Cnaiur to get the better of Kellhus and save the world from his madness.
The setting is an interesting one: magic is a taint that manifests itself in random individuals, who are then found and trained by one of the many Schools of magic. Such sorcerers are tremendously feared by everyone else, for their completely out-of-reason powers to destroy multitudes. Between the Schools there exists great rivalry and political machination. Getting the least respect is the Mandate School, so called because their first grandmaster, at the end of his life of fighting the inhuman monsters called the Consult, cast a spell on his deathbed so that everyone indoctrinated to the School would dream the grandmaster's life at night as if it were his own. When the story begins, more than 2,000 years after the death of the grandmaster, the threat of the Consult is real and present to everyone in the Mandate, but to everyone else the sorcerers are cranks and lunatics (though still possessed of dread arcane powers), fearing what they believe to be the imaginary "threat" of the Consult. All pretty compelling, but the problem lies in the main character, who is a monk descendant of the grandmaster's first liege lord. The monks have isolated themselves for the last few millennia in the far north, studying the Logos. The Logos is a logic based on the premise that everyone's actions are predetermined by what has happened previously (hence, the "darkness that comes before"), and that by completely owning and occupying one's powerlessness over events one actually gains the ability to effortlessly predict and manipulate events. For the whole novel we see Kellhus wandering the earth, manipulating and charming everyone to his own inscrutable ends, with a contempt for everyone else's lack of awareness of Reality. He's like an evil robot, undefeatable in battle, wits, love, and hate. It may be that we are meant to like the character, but I doubt it, as he has no endearing qualities.
The quality of the writing - the syntax, word choice, how phrases are formed - is good, but the characters are all so base this is a hard book to read. I will likely read the second book, though, just for the chance that someone, somewhere, will enact revenge on Kellhus for his crimes against, well, everyone.