Despite the predominately male-centric, violent, testosterone-infused themes and stories, I love fantasy fiction. The magical domains of Patrick Rothfuss, George R.R. Martin, Mark Lawrence and Anthony Ryan are great testimonials for leaving the real world behind to travel into Westeros or The Broken Empire. These stories are why I love fantasy fiction, and it’s why I am always looking for new writers to excite and spirit me away to their worlds. When I picked up Jon Sprunk’s novel, Blood and Iron, I expected to find a new Kvothe or maybe another Middle Earth. Alas, all I found was a predominantly male-centric, hyper-violent, testosterone-infused book full of funky names, uninteresting characters, and confusing storytelling.
First of all, it starts out sloooowly. A shipwreck off the coast of the enemy country of Akeshia leaves Horace of Tines, a lowly shipbuilder, alone and at the mercy of slave traders. His meager knowledge of the country and the distinct language barrier force Horace, and the reader, to slooowly piecemeal where he is, who are his captors, where are they going, and what happened to his ship. A former gladiator/mercenary now slave, Jirom, speaks a little of Horace’s language and answers some basic questions. But it is not until one-third of the way through the book that the reader is finally allowed a semi-comprehensive view into this new world. Until then, the slaves are starved, marched through the hellish heat of the desert, beaten and/or killed on a daily basis.
In the capitol of Akeshia, Queen Byleth politically battles the Sun Cult, a religious sect, for her entitled right to rule the country. The reader is first introduced to Byleth after her slave, Alyra, arrives late one morning. To prevent further dawdling, Byleth has a 10 year-old slave girl whipped while she forces Alyra to watch. Alyra, it turns out, is a spy for the rebels and she endures the Queen’s cruelty to further their mission to overthrow the government and free the slaves.
After it is discovered that Horace is unknowingly blessed with magical powers the book picks up in the world-building department. However, the nonsense also increases as Horace quickly goes from filthy savage slave to a highly placed position in the Queen’s court with his own house and Alyra as his handmaiden. Oh, and his previously unknown magical powers are stronger than anyone else’s and, while it takes most Akeshian sorcerers years, he learns how to control his powers within a matter of days.
Meanwhile, Horace’s friend, Jirom remains a slave in a dog soldier camp where the slaves are starved, marched through the hellish heat of the desert, beaten and/or killed on a daily basis. It is as if the author is afraid the reader might forget how horrifically the Akeshians treat the slaves and must frequently remind us. The former gladiator is approached by a rebel leader and is asked to join their cause. How a group of slaves is able to sneak out of the camp, cause chaos at night, and return before morning is highly fantastical. And, even more implausibly, Jirom wants to sneak into the capitol and rescue Horace. He has…feelings…for Horace.
The dialogue is clunky and follows no consistent frame of reference in this fantasy world; sometimes it’s like listening to a bunch of teenagers. Most of the characters are one-dimensional and unsophisticated in their creation, and the author was unable to convince me the Queen is a flawed, but sympathetic, character. The politics and different levels of magic, while intriguing, are confusing. And when the Queen grants Horace his one true wish, I laughed out loud at the reasoning behind his decision.
So, I’m sure this book will have many fans and the saga will become a hit but, for me, it just did not have the beauty and sophistication and magic many fantasy novels have that grips the reader. Perhaps the second book will be better, but I’m not going to find out.