(No spoilers) Most reviews of a high fantasy novel feel like they could only be intelligible to already-fans of high fantasy, or are more summary than review. Mystical names, invocations of lost ancient history and some lost potential of the original civilization, leading to some sort of quest are the backbone of the summaries. Yes, all the details are perfect in Last Song Before Night. A rich world surrounds and impinges upon the two main locations and characters' lives of the book, the lost magics are a fresh vision in fantasy, and the discovery of the hidden past and the idea of a pathway back to them emerges in its own kind of haze.
Ilana Myer's vision is coherent and engaging. She earns perfect scores in the demands of the genre. Those are reasons enough to read the book -- if you know you like high fantasy.
The problem with these summaries is the they make it seem the book is purely about that: about spinning those worlds. It's a great accomplishment, requiring buckets of sweat, blood, time, imagination, and continuity-checking -- but beyond the fact that strong thread has been spun, what of the full book woven from those threads?
This book is vivid, visceral, fast-moving, and real. I usually (and increasingly) have minimalist tastes. I found the first 25 pages or so difficult to wade into -- like walking off a New England beach into an unwarmed Atlantic ocean of early June -- and just as well worth it after the first few acclimating slaps from the waves. Murder. Ballrooms, secret whispers, and red wine tossed from the glass. I knew I was sucked in when I found myself asking my spouse to pour me a glass of wine (not actually being a drinker) and vaguely wishing I had any jeweled necklaces to fidget with, and/or maybe a hand-engraved dagger. The author trusts her reader's intellect, flicking forward riveting scene after scene, each following the next like the lash of the whip. You won't be skimming paragraphs of description to find where the plot picks up again in this read!
After a couple chapters the author had my faith that she'd give me the detail I'd need when I needed it -- and not before. My favorite kind of deal. With that established, I fell into a rich universe of suspense, culture, and intertwined personal and global history -- finishing the final 350 pages in one sitting. Dreams, magic, personal timelines and flashbacks are difficult to manage, yet they flowed for the most part seamlessly. I decided not to worry about the occasional instance where I didn't get it. Later I'll test whether this means that it'll reward repeat reading. Near the end, complications had spun out so I began to worry the book couldn't possibly wrap anything up in time, yet it was completely satisfactory. And I can't wait to find out what happens next.
Some early reviews, and even the publisher's materials, identify the setting's 'women can't do this' or 'men must do that' as moving the story along. But gender roles are a cultural precondition, as they are in any story. The real difference here is on the other side: that the characters are no less than people, whose reactions and desires don't necessarily align to the roles they were born into -- economic, gender, political, or anything else. Among all characters, there's a rich variegation of self-awareness and savvy level. The characters also think -- palpably, constantly, but unobtrusively. They are thus very real and extremely modern. This is not just a high fantasy book -- this is also a modern novel. Those two are not often found in the same jacket.
As a reader, I'm not primarily a fantasy reader. But I am someone who fell in love with Robin Hobb's series' especially Assassin and Tawny Man, read a bunch of fun stuff in between, and who was burnt out by George R.R. Martin's too consciously self-congratulatory narrative style (back in 2009 before TV was in the picture). I don't like feeling an author is pulling levers on me, and being tongue in cheek, superior, or unsympathetic about the results -- or that he thinks it's brave in and of itself to have pulled the same old lever in a different direction. Everyone knew the lever was there, and what it would do, so, how is it brave just to be the one to pull it? In contrast, my main complaint about this book is a minor one and it's for Tor: Tor, I found myself wishing you'd copyedited a touch more aggressively, especially in the early chapters when it's important to get the reader funneled into the world without distractions. Maybe next time. Overall, that the author of Last Song Before Night succeeds in creating a world of drama and constraint without making a fetish of any of its elements or getting stuck on irritating stylistic quirks is another refreshing aspect of the work.
Finally, I was drawn in by plot and setting, and then found the world deepening and expanding. Characters who might seem tangential at first are pulled into the growing web of central characters, each becoming more interesting throughout the book. The author also finds new methods for subtle plot twists. So not just in establishing the world of the setting, but throughout every aspect of the work, the reader finds original thinking. If feminism is 'the radical notion that women are people,' as the saying goes, and that correspondingly, men are people too, this book is the most feminist one I've read in a long time, simply by being fully imagined, with great integrity as well as imagination.