Major spoilers in this review.
The God Tide is a strong follow-up to the world of Hell's Gulf. There's a lot that feels (un)comfortably familiar here: the humour, the wildly imaginative monsters, and the hapless but determined protagonist. Being reintroduced into this hostile, backwater town is much like slipping on a pair of wet socks in the best way possible. For all the similarities to its predecessor, though, this prequel is anything but more of the same. Nick takes this novel as an opportunity to explore a variety of new voices and perspectives, and, knowing that his readers are now familiar with the way the Rift functions, alters the plot structure accordingly: instead of discovering how the monstrous beings in Hell's Gulf have come into existence (as the first novel did), TGT focuses on how they can be overcome.
I'd rather this review actually be a focus on TGT itself instead of just a comparison between the two books, so I'll summarize my thoughts on the differences between the two in this one paragraph. TGT does have a lot of marked improvements over Hell's Gulf in terms of prose, word choice, characterization, and even plot structure. Hell's Gulf had this awkwardness in some of the prose and dialogue, and there were these semi-frequent phrasing issues. As for God Tide, I suppose there was the redundancy of "a planet-sized bite out of the world" but that was all that stood out enough for me to mention it here. I really like the difference in plot that TGT brings about as well. Rowan from Hell's Gulf felt a bit aimless in his goals, which was partially the purpose, but it made the story feel less like a story and more of a diary at times. So I appreciate TGT giving Lance clearly defined aims, often from the get-go: first to find Nona, and then once that questline met its unfortunate end, he was to take down each of Echidna's sons in turn.
I ended up liking Lance as a protagonist much more than I liked Rowan from Hell's Gulf (sorry I lied about not making any more comparisons). I love the way his lifelong passion for birds represents his desire for cultural, familial and social belonging. There's this repeated metaphor of the search inwards through flight. It's nice. It ties back, too, to his past at the orphanage where he watches over the family of kestrels outside his room.
One of Nick's greatest skills as a writer, to me, is his ability to make every little detail he incorporates into the book serve a satisfying purpose in the end. He pulled this off in Hell's Gulf, and did so to even greater effect in The God Tide. Initially, the introduction to Echidna and her four sons comes off as insubstantial goofiness. The pirate, the tumour, the prism and the hellbird... I thought Nick was doing nothing more than throwing a random mass of strangeness at his readers for us to ooh and ahh over. As the book unfolds, however, Nick shows us that the every element of the monsters' designs are each inspired by unique aspects of their pasts, and these reverse-tellings were very gratifying to read about.
Further to that point, Lance's discussions with Mason and Latham contained what I thought was some of the best dialogue in the book. Mason's unapologetic cruelty has a sickening allure. It's tragically realistic while not being too over-the-top, all while maintaining a very entertaining air of posh superiority. Latham is much his opposite. His guilt and self-reckoning are masterfully written. I find that a lot of scenes like those too easily fall into the trap of becoming eyeroll-worthy sob stories, but Latham's blunt honesty lets the reader know that he knows he deserves no forgiveness for his actions. Which is fun and cool.
In contrast, I was not all that happy with Echidna's dialogue in particular. It felt like she fell out of character more than a few times. I didn't know why she would suddenly begin speaking like an annoyed teenager.
And if we're on the topic of criticisms, the scene where Tope massacres the people of Belon'raj felt out of place to me. It's weird to say about a horror novel (where horrifying stuff is supposed to happen, of course), but hear me out. We took this long journey in brutal, graphic detail describing how terrible and tragic this event was - in the protagonist's own words, it was, in essence, genocide. Because of the nature of the novel, though, Lance basically had to get up afterwards and say, "Well, that happened," and move on with his quest of stopping cohoba. This didn't feel great.
I was pleased with the ending of the book. I like that it turned out to have a self-contained plot, with no threads leading us to the conception of Hell's Gulf (other than the Rift's existence, of course, but I don't think that really counts as it seems to have been there since literally forever?). Lance reincarnating as a Rift-ified bird is indeed fitting, and does well to take away some of the bitterness from the bittersweet.
"Dad always goes off about cohoba and how this place is a sanctuary from the 'damned world,' but that ain't really the case, is it? We've been pure of spirit and yet things like these nutria get in, and the tides flood every year and turn the water salty 'cause the world don't care about our 'pure spirits.' We're livin' in the world, just like the folks in the Hinterlands."
Bit of an aside, but this was a nice passage. Maybe my favourite in the whole book. I was surprised to come across it.
The God Tide was a treat, bringing with it more of the fun, creative horror that Nick is so good at putting to the page. Four stars!