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Dragaera
The Baron of Magister Valley
From the vaults of Dragaeran history and the mind of master fantasist Steven Brust--a tale of betrayal and vengeance that is not at all a retelling of The Count of Monte Cristo
Reader, you will undoubtedly have had the misfortune of consuming the rotten fruit of fallacies that we―Paarfi of Roundwood (esteemed historian of House of Hawk and exquisite artisan of truths)―“borrow” our factual recount of Dragaeran history from some obscure fellow who goes by the name Al Dumas or some silly nomenclature of that nature.
The salacious claims that The Baron of Magister Valley bears any resemblance to a certain nearly fictional narrative about an infamous count are unfounded (we do not dabble in tall tales. The occasional moderately stretched? Yes. But never tall).
Our tale is that of a nobleman who is betrayed by those he trusted, and subsequently imprisoned. After centuries of confinement, he contrives to escape and prepares to avenge himself against his betrayers.
A mirror image of The Count of Monte Cristo, vitrolic naysayers still grouse? Well, that is nearly and utterly false.
Reader, you will undoubtedly have had the misfortune of consuming the rotten fruit of fallacies that we―Paarfi of Roundwood (esteemed historian of House of Hawk and exquisite artisan of truths)―“borrow” our factual recount of Dragaeran history from some obscure fellow who goes by the name Al Dumas or some silly nomenclature of that nature.
The salacious claims that The Baron of Magister Valley bears any resemblance to a certain nearly fictional narrative about an infamous count are unfounded (we do not dabble in tall tales. The occasional moderately stretched? Yes. But never tall).
Our tale is that of a nobleman who is betrayed by those he trusted, and subsequently imprisoned. After centuries of confinement, he contrives to escape and prepares to avenge himself against his betrayers.
A mirror image of The Count of Monte Cristo, vitrolic naysayers still grouse? Well, that is nearly and utterly false.
438 pages, Kindle Edition
First published July 28, 2020
204 people are currently reading
708 people want to read
About the author
Steven Brust
69 books2,303 followersSteven Karl Zoltán Brust (born November 23, 1955) is an American fantasy and science fiction author of Hungarian descent. He was a member of the writers' group The Scribblies, which included Emma Bull, Pamela Dean, Will Shetterly, Nate Bucklin, Kara Dalkey, and Patricia Wrede, and also belongs to the Pre-Joycean Fellowship.
http://us.macmillan.com/author/steven...
(Photo by David Dyer-Bennet)
http://us.macmillan.com/author/steven...
(Photo by David Dyer-Bennet)
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 82 reviews
July 27, 2020
The Baron of Magister Valley is not a retelling of The Count of Monte Cristo. It says so in the description. Psst! It totally is! And, yet, isn’t. But that’s the point. It very closely mirrors the classic while also putting on a new, fantastical, updated spin. As a fan of The Count of Monte Cristo (true story, I spent years hunting down an unabridged copy after being completely confused by an abridged edition), I couldn’t not request this from Netgalley, and was incredibly delighted to be approved for this title. I don’t think it’s for everyone, but, for anyone who has loved The Count of Monte Cristo, I highly recommend this not-retelling. Which also happens to be number 6 in a series of standalone novels (I have a bad habit of picking up books in the middle of a series, so I’m glad this is also considered a standalone!).
The Writing: Quite Proper
The writing is not something I normal write about in my reviews, but I think it’s something I should start with here. The writing is stilted. It’s very polite and proper and very reminiscent of novels like The Count of Monte Cristo. Brust captured both the speech and way of writing, which makes it very different from the standard fantasy, and general fiction, of today. It’s not for everyone, but it absolutely does wonders for the atmosphere in the novel. The dialogue is full of tell versus show, but it’s also easy to follow, makes perfect sense, and moved the story along without any ambiguity. I wasn’t expecting it to be written the way it was, and can see how it might not be for everyone, but I find I was delighted by it and even found myself easily slipping back into the novel whenever I picked it back up.
The Characters: Familiar, But Unique
The characters are like those in The Count of Monte Cristo, but not. They’re given a fresh, new spin in The Baron of Magister Valley, and not just with some magical skill, especially the two main females. I liked that they were similar to the characters I love, but were also uniquely their own in ways that made sense for both the story and the setting.
Eremit is Edmond. He had the same innocence, the same looking forward to a future of pastoral and marital happiness. He was dutiful and honorable, and wrongly imprisoned. I loved that he had the same drive to learn what he could from a fellow prisoner and to take his revenge as fully and completely as possible. He had the same air about him, but somehow felt uniquely Eremit.
My favorite was probably Livosha, who corresponds to Mercedes in that she is Eremit’s betrothed, but the similarities end there. While Mercedes has been depicted as fragile and feminine, Livosha is anything but. The woman can fight, negotiate, do hard labor, and take revenge with the best of them. She’s strong, smart, and relentless. Instead of resigning herself to a life without her betrothed, she literally spends centuries (people age very differently in this world) looking for him. I adored her; she’s definitely the modern heroine this story needs while still remaining true to the spirit of Mercedes’ character.
I did find it hard to see the villains in this story as truly villainous, but I also got that feeling in The Count of Monte Cristo so it didn’t bother me too much. I loved that there was a group who set out to obtain one thing and another group set out to get their revenge on them for stealing what was theirs. They all had their roles and I thought they were fulfilled flawlessly, but some of it did feel like it was a little lacking in life.
The one character I found really interesting, though, was the historian telling this tale. The Baron of Magister Valley revolves around an historian recording the story of Eremit and Livosha, but he lives long after the couple lived. It was fascinating to learn about him during the frequent asides in which he discussed the history of the world, how things changed, some philosophical thoughts, and why he chose to record the story the way he did.
The Setting: Full of a Rich History
Since this is the sixth book set in this world, it felt very established with history and cultures. But, since each book is considered a standalone, I don’t feel like I missed out on any world building; instead, the world was right there before my eyes. It felt like it had existed for a long time, felt like it had been carefully crafted, and this was the result.
It’s a far flung kind of world. There are so many places, and so many different kinds of places, from a secluded jail to bustling cities that have edged over into unnavigable. I felt like the world was brought to life in my head while I was reading. I didn’t get a crystal clear view of what everything looked like, but the world still felt alive, like it was breathing and the time in that world was continuing to march on.
One thing I do wonder if I missed out on was the different Houses. I’m not too clear on them, but it seemed like everyone was born to a specific line in which they were meant to be sailors, aristocrats, servants, etc. I think I picked up on enough to figure it out, but the details and specifics of them eluded me. Still, I found it fascinating, and even more fascinating to see it lent itself to a caste system that most people actually found to be suitable. I suppose it was nice to see that everyone knew their place and where they belonged.
The Plot: A Fantastical Story of Revenge
The Baron of Magister Valley borrows heavily from The Count of Monte Cristo. It is a retelling of the story in terms of the revenge and how elaborate it was. In the latter novel, the hero is wrongly accused and imprisoned. There, he meets a fellow prisoner who teaches him, tells him of an island with untold treasure, and helps him escape. Newly minted Count of Monte Cristo, the hero returns to exact his revenge on the men who crafted his downfall. The Baron of Magister Valley closely follows this course, but differs in particulars. For one, there’s some magic going on, and it felt much more linear and less elaborate than the giant tome it is based on.
I did love this book. Once I acclimated to the stilted, formal writing, it was fun to get to know the characters and see their behaviors and motivations driving the story. It’s quite a bit faster than the book it’s retelling, but it still provided a complicated enough web of lies, deception, and power hungriness.
I loved the familiarity of the story, which really let me enjoy how Brust chose to retell it. It felt like an updated version that’s been transplanted into a fantasy world. There was an interesting duality in that it felt old-fashioned with the class system and the idea of servants being way down on the bottom rung and everyone being so polite and formal, but modern with how strong and capable the women tended to be.
Overall: A Fun Spin on a Classic
The Baron of Magister Valley was a fun read. I loved the retelling and the unique spin Brust put on it. It does make me curious about the previous five standalones and I’d love to get to know this world better. There’s a rich history to this world. I liked that the characters were familiar, but different and that the story was similarly comfortingly familiar, but with it’s own unique flavor. The only part I felt ambiguous about was the end. I loved the way The Count of Monte Cristo ended, and I loved the way this novel ended. It was interesting that they’re so similar, yet so different and they lent themselves to similar, but very different endings that were still satisfactory. Overall, a very satisfying novel for anyone who loves The Count of Monte Cristo.
Thank you to Netgalley and Tor Books for a free e-copy. All opinions expressed are my own.
The Writing: Quite Proper
The writing is not something I normal write about in my reviews, but I think it’s something I should start with here. The writing is stilted. It’s very polite and proper and very reminiscent of novels like The Count of Monte Cristo. Brust captured both the speech and way of writing, which makes it very different from the standard fantasy, and general fiction, of today. It’s not for everyone, but it absolutely does wonders for the atmosphere in the novel. The dialogue is full of tell versus show, but it’s also easy to follow, makes perfect sense, and moved the story along without any ambiguity. I wasn’t expecting it to be written the way it was, and can see how it might not be for everyone, but I find I was delighted by it and even found myself easily slipping back into the novel whenever I picked it back up.
The Characters: Familiar, But Unique
The characters are like those in The Count of Monte Cristo, but not. They’re given a fresh, new spin in The Baron of Magister Valley, and not just with some magical skill, especially the two main females. I liked that they were similar to the characters I love, but were also uniquely their own in ways that made sense for both the story and the setting.
Eremit is Edmond. He had the same innocence, the same looking forward to a future of pastoral and marital happiness. He was dutiful and honorable, and wrongly imprisoned. I loved that he had the same drive to learn what he could from a fellow prisoner and to take his revenge as fully and completely as possible. He had the same air about him, but somehow felt uniquely Eremit.
My favorite was probably Livosha, who corresponds to Mercedes in that she is Eremit’s betrothed, but the similarities end there. While Mercedes has been depicted as fragile and feminine, Livosha is anything but. The woman can fight, negotiate, do hard labor, and take revenge with the best of them. She’s strong, smart, and relentless. Instead of resigning herself to a life without her betrothed, she literally spends centuries (people age very differently in this world) looking for him. I adored her; she’s definitely the modern heroine this story needs while still remaining true to the spirit of Mercedes’ character.
I did find it hard to see the villains in this story as truly villainous, but I also got that feeling in The Count of Monte Cristo so it didn’t bother me too much. I loved that there was a group who set out to obtain one thing and another group set out to get their revenge on them for stealing what was theirs. They all had their roles and I thought they were fulfilled flawlessly, but some of it did feel like it was a little lacking in life.
The one character I found really interesting, though, was the historian telling this tale. The Baron of Magister Valley revolves around an historian recording the story of Eremit and Livosha, but he lives long after the couple lived. It was fascinating to learn about him during the frequent asides in which he discussed the history of the world, how things changed, some philosophical thoughts, and why he chose to record the story the way he did.
The Setting: Full of a Rich History
Since this is the sixth book set in this world, it felt very established with history and cultures. But, since each book is considered a standalone, I don’t feel like I missed out on any world building; instead, the world was right there before my eyes. It felt like it had existed for a long time, felt like it had been carefully crafted, and this was the result.
It’s a far flung kind of world. There are so many places, and so many different kinds of places, from a secluded jail to bustling cities that have edged over into unnavigable. I felt like the world was brought to life in my head while I was reading. I didn’t get a crystal clear view of what everything looked like, but the world still felt alive, like it was breathing and the time in that world was continuing to march on.
One thing I do wonder if I missed out on was the different Houses. I’m not too clear on them, but it seemed like everyone was born to a specific line in which they were meant to be sailors, aristocrats, servants, etc. I think I picked up on enough to figure it out, but the details and specifics of them eluded me. Still, I found it fascinating, and even more fascinating to see it lent itself to a caste system that most people actually found to be suitable. I suppose it was nice to see that everyone knew their place and where they belonged.
The Plot: A Fantastical Story of Revenge
The Baron of Magister Valley borrows heavily from The Count of Monte Cristo. It is a retelling of the story in terms of the revenge and how elaborate it was. In the latter novel, the hero is wrongly accused and imprisoned. There, he meets a fellow prisoner who teaches him, tells him of an island with untold treasure, and helps him escape. Newly minted Count of Monte Cristo, the hero returns to exact his revenge on the men who crafted his downfall. The Baron of Magister Valley closely follows this course, but differs in particulars. For one, there’s some magic going on, and it felt much more linear and less elaborate than the giant tome it is based on.
I did love this book. Once I acclimated to the stilted, formal writing, it was fun to get to know the characters and see their behaviors and motivations driving the story. It’s quite a bit faster than the book it’s retelling, but it still provided a complicated enough web of lies, deception, and power hungriness.
I loved the familiarity of the story, which really let me enjoy how Brust chose to retell it. It felt like an updated version that’s been transplanted into a fantasy world. There was an interesting duality in that it felt old-fashioned with the class system and the idea of servants being way down on the bottom rung and everyone being so polite and formal, but modern with how strong and capable the women tended to be.
Overall: A Fun Spin on a Classic
The Baron of Magister Valley was a fun read. I loved the retelling and the unique spin Brust put on it. It does make me curious about the previous five standalones and I’d love to get to know this world better. There’s a rich history to this world. I liked that the characters were familiar, but different and that the story was similarly comfortingly familiar, but with it’s own unique flavor. The only part I felt ambiguous about was the end. I loved the way The Count of Monte Cristo ended, and I loved the way this novel ended. It was interesting that they’re so similar, yet so different and they lent themselves to similar, but very different endings that were still satisfactory. Overall, a very satisfying novel for anyone who loves The Count of Monte Cristo.
Thank you to Netgalley and Tor Books for a free e-copy. All opinions expressed are my own.
July 29, 2020
Surprising absolutely nobody, this is an excellent piece of work. Falling into Paarfi’s prose is like wrapping yourself in an extremely soft and comfortable blanket while a person of notable taste and transcendent grace offers you a cup filled with a beverage both effervescent and intriguingly spiced, and a small but skilled assemblage of musicians play complex yet soothing compositions in the background. Or maybe that’s just me, I dunno.
So, yeah. Dastardly crimes! Terrible injustices! Pirates! Escapes! Cunning plans! Stabbings! Revenges! All the best stuff!
Also, when it turned out at the end that XXXXXX was actually XXXXXXXXX? HOLY CRAP DUDE. I like to bust a gut on that one!
So, yeah. Dastardly crimes! Terrible injustices! Pirates! Escapes! Cunning plans! Stabbings! Revenges! All the best stuff!
Also, when it turned out at the end that XXXXXX was actually XXXXXXXXX? HOLY CRAP DUDE. I like to bust a gut on that one!
March 11, 2022
TL;DR: Disappointing, but still kind of fun. Not quite a 4 but I'll round it up.
The Baron of Magister Valley is, you might say, "inspired" by The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas. The Count of Monte Cristo is one of my all-time favorite books. I was more Three Musketeers when I was younger, but as I aged the Count replaced it. I absolutely adored Brust's first Dumas pastiche The Phoenix Guards when it came out and that along with the Vlad books and To Reign in Hell had him firmly at the top of my favorite writer list for quite a while.
He'd actually fallen off my radar for years, I'm not sure why, perhaps just part of my general move away from fantasy, but when I saw this one I was excited and made a point of catching up on the related books in preparation.
Sadly, it was a bit of a disappointment.
The Khaavren books, as the rest of Brust's Dumas inspired novels are known are not universally loved by fans of Brust's Vlad novels which take place later in the same world. Most frequently cited is the overly verbose narrator, Paarfi, whose long-winded asides to the reader honestly don't really have any antecedent in Dumas actual work to the best of my recollection, so what's up with that?
In addition to Paarfi's asides, the dialog tends to be drawn out in formulaic exchanges like the following example:
“That is not what we are celebrating.”
“Ah, it is not?”
“Not the least in the world.”
“So then, we are celebrating something else?”
“You have understood me exactly.”
“I often do. But then, do you intend to tell me what it is we are celebrating? For you perceive, it is less of a celebration if two are drinking wine, but only one knows why.”
“Very nearly an epigram, my dear sister. Yes, I will tell you.”
“And I hope you will do so at once.”
“In fact, I am about to.”
“Then I am listening.”
“Then you want me to begin my explanation?”
“Shades of the Paths, obstinate man! It is an hour since I’ve wanted anything else!”
Some variant of that "It is an hour since I’ve wanted anything else!" shows up frequently throughout all the Paarfi books.
Now, I find that exchange quite funny. And some of Paarfi's asides in this book are also quite funny to me, particularly the ones where he's commenting on the storytelling itself, like making an abrupt scene or POV transition and then going on an aside for two pages on why he feels justified in making such a choice when it's considered bad form.
That said, you can only tell the same joke so many times and still get a laugh. And Paarfi's asides which are more focused on criticizing his peers or responding to fictional criticism of himself didn't interest me at all and I found myself frequently skimming them. Perhaps I'm imagining it, but it seems to me Paarfi's asides have become more long-winded and frequent with each of the Paarfi books Brust has done. In an update I mentioned the gags in Family Guy where the thing that happens isn't funny, but it becomes kind of meta-funny by the fact that they drag it out for so long. There's an element of that to the humor here.
But at the same time it begins to feel like padding. This book is about 450 pages, and my copy of TCoMC is nearly 1,300. So it's only like a third the length and yet it feels if you stripped out Paarfi's nonsense and condensed the dialog it would be much closer to 250.
Worse, that 250 doesn't feel well distributed. The pre-revenge plot parts take up a disproportionate amount of the story. Eremit, our Edmond in this version, honestly almost feels like a secondary character to his fiance whose storyline does not resemble the Dumas version in any way.
And that may be part of my disappointment with this too. I don't know whether this should be properly labeled homage, pastiche, or parody. Personally, with parody, the farther a thing strays from the thing being parodied the less it works for me.
There's definitely a worthwhile story here, I enjoyed a lot of it. But in between I was disappointed, which is perhaps inevitable when someone promises me The Count of Monte Cristo and delivers anything else.
July 31, 2020
Dragaera! Surely a fascinating place!
Steven Brust, one of my fav authors. Such a pleasure to be back in Dragaera, with all it's intrigues and different Houses that make up part of this world, it's magic and sorcery. Indeed I'd forgotten the wordy ways of some of the Dragaerans.
This tale as related by the pompous historian and self acclaimed storyteller, "Paarfi of Roundwood (esteemed historian of House of Hawk and exquisite artisan of truths)" in a convoluted and drawn out manner, uses a very precious and exacting style, à la Alexander Dumas.
He delights in giving drawn out explanations to us mere mortal aficionados about everything from philosophical theories to reasons why he doesn't include some information. Underneath the effusion of verbose language is a fascinating story of betrayal and revenge, hope and justice.
Two Houses suffer at the hands of those who are greedy and corrupt. (Indeed that corruption stems from near to the highest in the land.)
The scion of one House is bundled off to an illegal jail. Those of another spend many years one step ahead of pursuers.
This is all set during at the time when the Orb, the source of the Empire's power fails, sowing disruption and discord across the Empire, including failure of authority.
I love Steven Brust's writing and have read almost all of his works. This latest contribution to the world of Dragaera is for me a winner!
A Macmillan-Tor/Forge ARC via NetGalley
Steven Brust, one of my fav authors. Such a pleasure to be back in Dragaera, with all it's intrigues and different Houses that make up part of this world, it's magic and sorcery. Indeed I'd forgotten the wordy ways of some of the Dragaerans.
This tale as related by the pompous historian and self acclaimed storyteller, "Paarfi of Roundwood (esteemed historian of House of Hawk and exquisite artisan of truths)" in a convoluted and drawn out manner, uses a very precious and exacting style, à la Alexander Dumas.
He delights in giving drawn out explanations to us mere mortal aficionados about everything from philosophical theories to reasons why he doesn't include some information. Underneath the effusion of verbose language is a fascinating story of betrayal and revenge, hope and justice.
Two Houses suffer at the hands of those who are greedy and corrupt. (Indeed that corruption stems from near to the highest in the land.)
The scion of one House is bundled off to an illegal jail. Those of another spend many years one step ahead of pursuers.
This is all set during at the time when the Orb, the source of the Empire's power fails, sowing disruption and discord across the Empire, including failure of authority.
I love Steven Brust's writing and have read almost all of his works. This latest contribution to the world of Dragaera is for me a winner!
A Macmillan-Tor/Forge ARC via NetGalley
January 5, 2021
I love most of Brust's work, so I'm sorry to say this fell a little flat for me. Maybe the Paarfi schtick is getting old (Brust has a number of books that are written in a faux-19th-century style, set in the past of the world in which his Vlad Taltos novels are set--the voice of those novels is Paarfi). It's hard to keep that fresh now after, what, five other books in this style? I think it also suffers a bit from just how self-contained it is. His first Paarfi book, The Phoenix Guards, had the advantage of being first and fresh. Five Hundred Years After picked up those same characters and also expanded on history that's hinted at in the Vlad novels. And then the trilogy that followed developed a strong cast of characters and showed us younger versions of characters we knew from Vlad while expanding the back story of the world.
I think maybe the "problem" (for me) in this book is that it doesn't do much of any of that. It felt a little paint by numbers. We did have one reveal toward the end, finding out that we actually do know one of these characters from the Vlad novels, but I figured that out, like, at least a few pages before it was revealed. So it didn't feel like it added much to the world. Maybe it also had something to do with being a retelling of The Count of Monte Cristo, but the plot felt predictable and the characters a bit drab. We know the good guys are going to get their revenge, and it just didn't feel like there was much at stake. I don't know. I really wanted to like this more than I did, and it certainly had its moments, but I'll be glad to get back to Vlad when Brust's next book comes out.
I think maybe the "problem" (for me) in this book is that it doesn't do much of any of that. It felt a little paint by numbers. We did have one reveal toward the end, finding out that we actually do know one of these characters from the Vlad novels, but I figured that out, like, at least a few pages before it was revealed. So it didn't feel like it added much to the world. Maybe it also had something to do with being a retelling of The Count of Monte Cristo, but the plot felt predictable and the characters a bit drab. We know the good guys are going to get their revenge, and it just didn't feel like there was much at stake. I don't know. I really wanted to like this more than I did, and it certainly had its moments, but I'll be glad to get back to Vlad when Brust's next book comes out.
July 27, 2020
I very rarely say this, but: meh.
April 7, 2023
This was Number One on my list of Most Anticipated Novels of 2020, and it did not disappoint! I’ll be brief, if only because Paarfi certainly was not, and say that, surprisingly, he was! Those familiar with the Khaavren Romances will happily find the style intact, but, delightfully, the pacing and bravado of the Vlad Taltos novels are a strong influence here. This faithful adaptation of The Count of Monte Cristo is full of thrills and powerful observations, imagery and incredibly well-wrought world-building, memorable and strong characters that will surprise you at every turn of the page. Steven Brust has truly outdone himself with this work of fantasy, and puts on a masterclass of how you defy genre restrictions and expectations by telling a damn fun story in a really cool way that is never once predictable nor tedious. When I wasn’t guffawing, I was intent upon the plot and the dear main characters, and while those familiar with Brust’s impressive career’s repertoire won’t be shocked to discover the world he has built is charming, dangerous, inviting, and appetizing (yeah, you want that kethna) it bears mentioning that it is completely immersive and Brust really shows off here with that. This novel is self-contained, and satisfying, but it definitely makes you want more. And with at least a few more Dragaera/Vlad novels remaining, this incredible work of fantastic fiction proves that Brust is without a doubt peerless in crafting fun, funny, thoughtful, and epic genre fiction.
September 14, 2020
This book was really good. Though as typical of the books written by “Paarfi” it was a little long winded especially in the beginning. But it really picked up and came together nicely. Who else but Brust would write a version of The Man in the Iron Mask set in a fantasy setting?
August 26, 2020
I came away from The Baron of Magister Valley smiling. It’s the epitome of a fun book, one crafted with obvious skill and passion, taking the reader on a journey that by turns excites and intrigues, horrifies and thrills. It’s got a story that kept my attention, and, as the sages say, had me turning pages, and protagonists who I cared about. There’s duels, wordplay, and a wonderful amount of baroque-yet-cunningly-crafted language.
Speaking of which, I have to talk about the style. Anyone who picked up The Phoenix Guards, or one of Brust’s other Khaavren Romances books will be familiar with it. In theory, they’re all written by the same in-universe historian, Paarfi of Roundwood, whose academic feuds and tendency to pointed outrage at petty injustices suffuse the subtext of the story. And Paarfi is a long-winded fellow. In this, he follows the tradition of Dumas, whose works are, shall we say, an homage to Paarfi, rather than the other way around. Paid by the word, Dumas gave us flowery descriptions of every, er, description, and dialogue which laced beautifully shaped prose through a structure which meant you got rather a lot of it for your money. And Paarfi is the same. There’s rather a lot of characters asking if someone wants them to answer a question, hearing the reply, confirming that they have heard the reply, replying to the confirmation, replying to the reply, and then maybe actually providing some information. It can be a bit hard to get your head around. But after a while, you don’t notice - the words themselves flow together in a cadence which is both a surprisingly restful read, and also compels you to turn the next page.
I suppose I’m saying that, if you’re new to Paarfi’s style, don’t worry, you get used to it. Like klava without honey in it, you may even come to enjoy it after a little while!
The story...well, depending on who you believe about who published first, you could say it bears a certain similarity to Dumas’ The Count of Monte Cristo. Taking the place of the Count is Eremit, the young scion of a noble family, recently come into possession of resources. This does not end well for him. Eremit is a wonderful portrait of someone unjustly confined, pacing the walls of their cell, marking time, trying to find a meaning and purpose in the slow monotony of their lives. Eremit is also a vivid actor when given the chance for vengeance, a mastermind with a ticking clock, moving his enemies like chess pieces, giving a comeuppance which was extremely cathartic to read. He’s easy to sympathise with, is Eremit, and his actions are always justified; thi is a paean to righteous vengeance. But it starts with a different person, a young man looking at the sun travelling over the sea - and the proof of the growth of his character is that, over time, that boy seems unlike Eremit to both himself and us. The pages that make up the text are those that shape Eremit, and drive him toward the heart of vengeance on a corrupt system, and the individuals which enable it - and if he is changed by that experience, then so too are we changed by having it with him.
Livosha, Eremit’s betrothed, is perhaps the other significant point of view here. While Eremit’s initial stages are those of confinement and apathy driven by injustice, Livosha is an active agent, struggling to escape from carnage, survive tragedy, and take back what is hers. Livosha is charming, thoughtful, deadly with a blade - and as driven by the need for survival and for revenge as is Eremit. Her relationship with her family has some genuinely charming banter in it, and watching her kick arse and take names, whilst slowly re-ascending the steps of a society which ignored her when she was cast down - well, it’s a pure joy. Livosha, having struggled through trials and tribulations, is someone you can cheer when they’re finally holding the edge of a sword to the throat of someone used to abusing a position of power.
And that’s what this is, in the end. A world of nobility, of power, of corruption and abuse, wrapped in phantom structures of honour, where what is right is decided by connections, magic, and the number of blades. That world can be overturned by one or two people of good intent, who are determined to make something of it, something better. Dragaera will be changed by these two, and by their friends - and by the struggles they have against a cast of delightfully unpleasant villains. This is a world of sorcery and high adventure, but its tale of the struggle to rise up out from under a system of oppression, to have agency of ones own, and not to accept what the system doles out - those are messages that resonate very strongly today.
Paarfi..er..Brust, has done it again. This is at once a searing indictment of modern society, a thrilling adventure story, and a cosy fantasy delight. And for all of those reasons, I suggest that you help Paarfi pay for his next cup of klava, and pick a copy up. It’s a lot of fun, and it’ll make you smile.
Speaking of which, I have to talk about the style. Anyone who picked up The Phoenix Guards, or one of Brust’s other Khaavren Romances books will be familiar with it. In theory, they’re all written by the same in-universe historian, Paarfi of Roundwood, whose academic feuds and tendency to pointed outrage at petty injustices suffuse the subtext of the story. And Paarfi is a long-winded fellow. In this, he follows the tradition of Dumas, whose works are, shall we say, an homage to Paarfi, rather than the other way around. Paid by the word, Dumas gave us flowery descriptions of every, er, description, and dialogue which laced beautifully shaped prose through a structure which meant you got rather a lot of it for your money. And Paarfi is the same. There’s rather a lot of characters asking if someone wants them to answer a question, hearing the reply, confirming that they have heard the reply, replying to the confirmation, replying to the reply, and then maybe actually providing some information. It can be a bit hard to get your head around. But after a while, you don’t notice - the words themselves flow together in a cadence which is both a surprisingly restful read, and also compels you to turn the next page.
I suppose I’m saying that, if you’re new to Paarfi’s style, don’t worry, you get used to it. Like klava without honey in it, you may even come to enjoy it after a little while!
The story...well, depending on who you believe about who published first, you could say it bears a certain similarity to Dumas’ The Count of Monte Cristo. Taking the place of the Count is Eremit, the young scion of a noble family, recently come into possession of resources. This does not end well for him. Eremit is a wonderful portrait of someone unjustly confined, pacing the walls of their cell, marking time, trying to find a meaning and purpose in the slow monotony of their lives. Eremit is also a vivid actor when given the chance for vengeance, a mastermind with a ticking clock, moving his enemies like chess pieces, giving a comeuppance which was extremely cathartic to read. He’s easy to sympathise with, is Eremit, and his actions are always justified; thi is a paean to righteous vengeance. But it starts with a different person, a young man looking at the sun travelling over the sea - and the proof of the growth of his character is that, over time, that boy seems unlike Eremit to both himself and us. The pages that make up the text are those that shape Eremit, and drive him toward the heart of vengeance on a corrupt system, and the individuals which enable it - and if he is changed by that experience, then so too are we changed by having it with him.
Livosha, Eremit’s betrothed, is perhaps the other significant point of view here. While Eremit’s initial stages are those of confinement and apathy driven by injustice, Livosha is an active agent, struggling to escape from carnage, survive tragedy, and take back what is hers. Livosha is charming, thoughtful, deadly with a blade - and as driven by the need for survival and for revenge as is Eremit. Her relationship with her family has some genuinely charming banter in it, and watching her kick arse and take names, whilst slowly re-ascending the steps of a society which ignored her when she was cast down - well, it’s a pure joy. Livosha, having struggled through trials and tribulations, is someone you can cheer when they’re finally holding the edge of a sword to the throat of someone used to abusing a position of power.
And that’s what this is, in the end. A world of nobility, of power, of corruption and abuse, wrapped in phantom structures of honour, where what is right is decided by connections, magic, and the number of blades. That world can be overturned by one or two people of good intent, who are determined to make something of it, something better. Dragaera will be changed by these two, and by their friends - and by the struggles they have against a cast of delightfully unpleasant villains. This is a world of sorcery and high adventure, but its tale of the struggle to rise up out from under a system of oppression, to have agency of ones own, and not to accept what the system doles out - those are messages that resonate very strongly today.
Paarfi..er..Brust, has done it again. This is at once a searing indictment of modern society, a thrilling adventure story, and a cosy fantasy delight. And for all of those reasons, I suggest that you help Paarfi pay for his next cup of klava, and pick a copy up. It’s a lot of fun, and it’ll make you smile.
September 7, 2020
This review presumes prior exposure to Brust's fantasy work, because what grabs me is the way he is simultaneously building his world, providing an origin story for a prominent, recurring character, and contextualizing his two series, the gritty, noir flavored thrillers about former assassin and current fugitive, Vlad Taltos, and the flowery historical romances of the fictive author, Paarfi of Roundwood.
The blurb on the cover makes the obvious connection: The Baron of Magister Valley is to The Count of Monte Cristo, as The Phoenix Guards is to The Three Musketeers. These historic romances are intended to be seen as historical fiction, within his fantasy setting, and he is frankly inspired by the sorts of swashbuckling adventures as Dumas liked to produce.
Paarfi is writing during the same period as Vlad reports - the reign of the Phoenix Empress, Zerika IV, early in the Eighteenth Cycle - but addresses events of a previous epoch in history, up to and through the cataclysm of Adron's Disaster which ended the old Imperium, and through the restoration of empire with a prosy flair for his own voice. But this is an invaluable window into how his sorcerous, long-lived Dragaerans perceive their history, their society and themselves, while Vlad - a short, short-lived Easterner, is a perennial outsider even as he moves among great powers.
Previous titles have mingled Paarfi's accounts with Vlad's reminiscence, although the two do not meet. What this current title does is provide the origin of a powerful (and literal) crime-lord with whom Vlad's own career is entwined in many ways. But this notorious figure (who has never been anything as simple as a direct, unsympathetic antagonist) is also the historic contemporary of Lord Khaavren, Captain of Her Majesty's Phoenix Guards, and hero of earlier Paarfi romances.
In a way, Eremit's story is an inversion of Khaavren's - one becomes effectively top law enforcement officer in his society, the other at or near the top of its established organized crime syndicate - or half of it, anyway. Both come from similar origins - provincial aristocracy - and end up in the same city, on opposite sides of the law, a few centuries later. This counterpoint to Khaavren of Castle Rock is at least as engaging as seeing the origin of the authority figure high in the Jhereg Organization with whom Vlad will have to contend.
In spite of these tie-ins, however revealing and engaging they are to the returning reader, The Baron of Magister Valley is also a self-contained story, with its own beginning, middle and end, and Brust is competent at telling his story in such a way that no deep prior exposure to his world is needed.
The blurb on the cover makes the obvious connection: The Baron of Magister Valley is to The Count of Monte Cristo, as The Phoenix Guards is to The Three Musketeers. These historic romances are intended to be seen as historical fiction, within his fantasy setting, and he is frankly inspired by the sorts of swashbuckling adventures as Dumas liked to produce.
Paarfi is writing during the same period as Vlad reports - the reign of the Phoenix Empress, Zerika IV, early in the Eighteenth Cycle - but addresses events of a previous epoch in history, up to and through the cataclysm of Adron's Disaster which ended the old Imperium, and through the restoration of empire with a prosy flair for his own voice. But this is an invaluable window into how his sorcerous, long-lived Dragaerans perceive their history, their society and themselves, while Vlad - a short, short-lived Easterner, is a perennial outsider even as he moves among great powers.
Previous titles have mingled Paarfi's accounts with Vlad's reminiscence, although the two do not meet. What this current title does is provide the origin of a powerful (and literal) crime-lord with whom Vlad's own career is entwined in many ways. But this notorious figure (who has never been anything as simple as a direct, unsympathetic antagonist) is also the historic contemporary of Lord Khaavren, Captain of Her Majesty's Phoenix Guards, and hero of earlier Paarfi romances.
In a way, Eremit's story is an inversion of Khaavren's - one becomes effectively top law enforcement officer in his society, the other at or near the top of its established organized crime syndicate - or half of it, anyway. Both come from similar origins - provincial aristocracy - and end up in the same city, on opposite sides of the law, a few centuries later. This counterpoint to Khaavren of Castle Rock is at least as engaging as seeing the origin of the authority figure high in the Jhereg Organization with whom Vlad will have to contend.
In spite of these tie-ins, however revealing and engaging they are to the returning reader, The Baron of Magister Valley is also a self-contained story, with its own beginning, middle and end, and Brust is competent at telling his story in such a way that no deep prior exposure to his world is needed.
August 31, 2020
Lovely prose and plotting as always. Exceedingly satisfying. I read it slowly to enjoy it longer.
November 20, 2021
Having read this book, and by reading I mean at times devouring, at times chuckling softly to myself or, if he was by chance present, also heard by and therefore, in a way, also to boyfriend, at times outright laughing, and even, again if the exact already mentioned boyfriend was again by chance (whereby the chance was not so much a chance as so much increased chance through the dire circumstances of a plague pervading the whole of our world that it would be almost correct to call this chance a certainty, were it not for the brief relief of a partial immunization by the means of vaccinations - but I wish not to trouble the dear reader of this review with personal details as is the custom by so many fellow reviewers, who, by those menial means obtain and retain likes that the more knowledgeable reader of reviews would and indead should bestow upon humble reviewers who toil to keep their reviews as short and concise as this reviewer continually strives to do, avoiding to convey unnecessary information and indead weighing every word before deciding to put it on page in order to avoid unnecessarily extending a review) reading out loud sections to - no doubt the reader remembers the only words before mentioned - boyfriend, and by book, of course, I mean a masterpiece of history that is of such high quality as to induce other historians - and I loath to mention the names of plagiaristic historians such as a certain Dumas - to ruthlessly copy this masterfully researched and skillfully put to paper work of art (and indead science).
July 15, 2024
Upon hearing that the novel rehashed the The Count of Monte Cristo, I initially groaned and thought, another one?, for, amidst a hundred other intentional adaptations and Stephen Fry's self-professed unintentional one, I believed The Baron of Magister Valley would offer little in the way of novelty to differentiate itself from the crowded field of tired retreads. I further groaned upon reading the first chapter, perplexed at the overly-verbose prose and bizarre interstitial ramblings of the narrator. I believed such would quickly grow old and that I could only endure one more such iteration, two at most, before they became too burdensome to put up with.
I was wrong on both counts.
On the latter, the superlative floridity pervasive upon each and every page was shockingly witty in its employ. From first iteration to last, the incessant repetition of the same hackneyed dialog never failed to steal a guffaw from me and, on finally being turned on one of the piece's villains, a muted cheer. The narrator's long-winded and overtly unnecessary interjections, too, whether vaguely topical to the tale at hand or wholly tangential, inexplicably sparked the same joy. A deliberate parody of Dumas' own excessive style, Brust incredibly makes such compelling and eye-rolling at the same time.
On the former misapprehension, the fantasy world into which the story is roughly translated adds no little spice to an otherwise overly-familiar dish. I was frustrated, though endearingly so, to be left wanting answers to a number of questions raised when the narrator, though willing to dive into the weeds on every other topic under the Orb, inadvertently tantalizes the reader with a recurring description or an off-hand reference to something the narrator believes too mundane or common knowledge to pursue further. The core of the story, too, is a worthy retelling. Though the endpoint is known, it's a credit to the author that the journey still has a charm all its own.
If there's one mark I might hold against the book, it is thus: reading such overwrought embellishment inspires my own writing to similar levels of excess, albeit surely to far less enamoring effect. The reader of this review has no doubt noted this and to them I can offer but one word—sorry.
I was wrong on both counts.
On the latter, the superlative floridity pervasive upon each and every page was shockingly witty in its employ. From first iteration to last, the incessant repetition of the same hackneyed dialog never failed to steal a guffaw from me and, on finally being turned on one of the piece's villains, a muted cheer. The narrator's long-winded and overtly unnecessary interjections, too, whether vaguely topical to the tale at hand or wholly tangential, inexplicably sparked the same joy. A deliberate parody of Dumas' own excessive style, Brust incredibly makes such compelling and eye-rolling at the same time.
On the former misapprehension, the fantasy world into which the story is roughly translated adds no little spice to an otherwise overly-familiar dish. I was frustrated, though endearingly so, to be left wanting answers to a number of questions raised when the narrator, though willing to dive into the weeds on every other topic under the Orb, inadvertently tantalizes the reader with a recurring description or an off-hand reference to something the narrator believes too mundane or common knowledge to pursue further. The core of the story, too, is a worthy retelling. Though the endpoint is known, it's a credit to the author that the journey still has a charm all its own.
If there's one mark I might hold against the book, it is thus: reading such overwrought embellishment inspires my own writing to similar levels of excess, albeit surely to far less enamoring effect. The reader of this review has no doubt noted this and to them I can offer but one word—sorry.
July 29, 2020
I received an ARC of this book to read in exchange for a fair review. The Baron of Magister Valley is the sixth book in Steven Brust’s The Khaavren Romance Series. It can be read as a stand-alone. This book had so much potential it’s got evil villains, pirates, bandits, a dashing magical hero, a bold heroine and an awesome revenge plot based on the Count of Monte Christo but sadly it’s told by the most boring annoying omniscient narrator that ever existed. Imagine your most boring professor of obscure history, multiply by ten and you’ve got the narrator for this book. I’ve never enjoyed the omniscient narrator style of writing and this one seriously takes the cake for cringeworthy prose. My advice would be just to skip through anytime the narrator babbles on and underneath you will find an adventure story well worth reading until the end which I have to say was kind of meh… Publishing Date: July 20, 2020. #TheBaronOfMagisterValley #StevenBrust #FantasyNovel #TorBooks #bookstagram #MacMillanTorForge #NetGalley
November 2, 2023
After putting off reading this for years, I blazed through it in a couple days. Like all of Dragaera, it's compellingly readable. And the tie-in to the Vlad-era novels is unexpected and intriguing. (Also, .)
I found Paarfi's interminable feud with a fellow historian a little tedious; I prefer Paarfi when he's rambling about history and geography rather than his own personal issues. I would have preferred some of that page time be devoted to fleshing out things that are told-not-shown in the novel, like Kefaan's romance. Or more pirates--more pirates is always good. And there were an unfortunate number of typos (I do not know whether to blame Glorious Mountain Press or Tor). But this is solid and entertaining and makes me eager for Lyorn in the spring.
I found Paarfi's interminable feud with a fellow historian a little tedious; I prefer Paarfi when he's rambling about history and geography rather than his own personal issues. I would have preferred some of that page time be devoted to fleshing out things that are told-not-shown in the novel, like Kefaan's romance. Or more pirates--more pirates is always good. And there were an unfortunate number of typos (I do not know whether to blame Glorious Mountain Press or Tor). But this is solid and entertaining and makes me eager for Lyorn in the spring.
August 2, 2020
I was so excited waiting for this book, and it does NOT disappoint! Another in the series of books purportedly written by historian Paarfi of Roundwood, whose style is singular: why write in 50 words what can be communicated in 500? EB White would presumably be apoplectic, this is NOT Economy of Style, this is reveling in the joy of using language fancifully. And a large part of it is conversational - there is a marked difference between the flowery speech of most of the characters and the infrequent character of few words. The first book in the Paarfi series is The Phoenix Guards, which I would recommend to anyone new to Brust's work. While this book _could_ stand alone, there are many aspects of this world that probably makes more sense after reading the other books. Those who HAVE read the other books, and enjoyed them, need no encouragement from me! And I was glad to see that Paarfi has his own Twitter account! Since I love Steven Brust books so much, I concluded it is legitimate to grant this one 5 stars too, but I guess this would be a lesser 5 stars than The Phoenix Guards... And the meta story is fun too...
September 11, 2020
So great. Brust is always good but I have a bit of a soft spot for the Paarfi books and this one seems to be mostly self-contained. (I mean, it's set in Dragaera and has historical references and all, but no other main characters appear in on-screen roles. ) Tons of long digressions and a deeply intrusive narrator decrying authorial mistakes of others that he would certainly never make (often in the middle of actually making those same mistakes), plus some cool magic and a revenge tale. (I still prefer the Vlad books a bit but these are really fun and Vlad is usually a bit darker overall.)
July 19, 2020
I found this book to be oddly compelling The preface and some other areas are hard to read, comprend due to the language but whence you get into the actual story it's easier. It has lots of tension to it. #The Baron of Magister Valley #NetGalley
August 11, 2020
Another grand romp by my favourite author. I think in Paarfi’s florid stylings for days after reading :)
August 24, 2020
A non-spoilery review of _The Baron of Magister Valley_.
Having had a few days to digest TBMV, I've got two impressions that I feel are worth expounding on regarding the narrative structure in relation to a pair of older manuscripts - To wit, William Goldman's _The Princess Bride_ and Christopher Stasheff's _Escape Velocity_.
The comparison to _The Princess Bride_ will be obvious to anyone who has read that novel (as opposed to only having seen the film). Paarfi's style of interrupting the flow of the narrative in order to comment upon the narrative in such a manner that his comments inadvertently mirror the very topic that he's ostensibly attempting to avoid by his interruptions, will be very familiar to anyone who has read _The Princess Bride_ and understood not only the similarities between Paarfi and S. Morgenstern but also to Goldman's own asides about his attempts to acquire _The Princess Bride_ for his son and then attempt to abridge it when he discovers that the book he "knew" was essentially "the good parts" version as abridged by his father. Since the film itself is more or less "the good parts version", this aspect of _The Princess Bride_ is entirely lost in the film.
In TBMV, Paarfi's asides are not simply affectations of a pseudo-Dumas who is, for comedic purposes of the narrative, attempting to enrich himself by composing as lengthy a narrative as possible. They amount nearly to a novel-within-a-novel, in which Paarfi expounds both upon serious notions about the nature of History and the historical record, and upon his fictional "maltreatment" at the hand of his academic peers and specifically the person(s) who has an academic post that Paarfi rightly or not feels should belong to himself. Paarfi himself becomes a historical character in the narrative through his apparently comedic, yet also relevant asides in much the same way that Goldman's own asides about S. Morganstern's original work (which he is ostensibly abridging) and his commentary about his family life mirror the same "dull parts" that he is supposedly abridging out of the story in the first place.
Which brings me to _Escape Velocity_ by Christopher Stasheff.
The comparison is not immediately obvious here, because the comparison I have in mind is not so much about Paarfi as it is about Steven Brust, the author (as opposed to Steven Brust, the character in the Vladiad). _Escape Velocity_ is a sort of "prequel" to a series of books by Stasheff that begins in the novel _The Warlock in Spite of Himself". In a nutshell, _Escape Velocity_ is a story about the fall of democracy and the escape of the main character from the inevitable aftermath as part of a "twist" ending that one would only recognize as being a "twist" by virtue of already being familiar with the Warlock books.
Among other people that the main character of _Escape Velocity_ encounters as he flees the agents of totalitarianism is an overly educated bartender who turns out to be a college professor who has taken it upon himself to practice a kind of "guerilla education" in an effort to counter the effects of an increasingly intolerant, tribal, and fear-mongering society. (I hesitate to call _Escape Velocity_ prophetic but its vision of how quickly and easily democracy can tip into totalitarianism feels uncomfortably relevant in today's politically charged atmosphere.) Rather than attempt to fight the good fight politically, this character (whose name I regrettably have forgotten) has chosen to fight it one-on-one by engaging his customers individually about their beliefs and attempting to lead them to conclude for themselves both a true understanding of how democracy works and why it is beneficial to them.
To relate this back to TBMV - The further I went into TBMV, the more it seemed to me that Brust had likewise assumed the role of "guerilla educator" using Paarfi as his proxy. Where previous Paarfi novels had themselves entailed a great number of asides by Paarfi about the role of the Historian, the asides in TBMV are as much about History itself and the ways that modern readers are brought to an understanding of it by self-professed Historians as it is about comedic leavening. The comedy comes from Paarfi comparing his personal ideals to the slipshod work and alleged fabrications by his peers, but the ideals themselves offer very real insights into Brust's own ideals about how real-world history is written, presented and interpreted. As a consequence, if the reader spends much thought upon these things, Brust ends up using Paarfi to ask the reader to not only consider the relevance of Historical knowledge upon her own life but to also ask the reader to think critically about that very History and investigate just how "accurate" is the information that the reader has been receiving.
It's unusual to compare a real-life author to a fictional bartender, but if the shoe fits...
In any case, since I called this a "review", I should conclude with a recommendation, which is that anyone who already enjoys the Paarfiad will almost certainly enjoy _The Baron of Magister Valley_. I'm not sure that the "twist" at the end was very twisty - I saw it coming a long way off, and I'm inclined to believe that dedicated readers of the Vladiad will have no problems guessing the identity of another historical character that appears as a result of the events of TBMV. I'd even go so far as to suggest that TBMV is also the "origin story", or at least "chapter one" of the origin story, of yet another beloved Vladiad character as well, but that remains to be seen.
Having had a few days to digest TBMV, I've got two impressions that I feel are worth expounding on regarding the narrative structure in relation to a pair of older manuscripts - To wit, William Goldman's _The Princess Bride_ and Christopher Stasheff's _Escape Velocity_.
The comparison to _The Princess Bride_ will be obvious to anyone who has read that novel (as opposed to only having seen the film). Paarfi's style of interrupting the flow of the narrative in order to comment upon the narrative in such a manner that his comments inadvertently mirror the very topic that he's ostensibly attempting to avoid by his interruptions, will be very familiar to anyone who has read _The Princess Bride_ and understood not only the similarities between Paarfi and S. Morgenstern but also to Goldman's own asides about his attempts to acquire _The Princess Bride_ for his son and then attempt to abridge it when he discovers that the book he "knew" was essentially "the good parts" version as abridged by his father. Since the film itself is more or less "the good parts version", this aspect of _The Princess Bride_ is entirely lost in the film.
In TBMV, Paarfi's asides are not simply affectations of a pseudo-Dumas who is, for comedic purposes of the narrative, attempting to enrich himself by composing as lengthy a narrative as possible. They amount nearly to a novel-within-a-novel, in which Paarfi expounds both upon serious notions about the nature of History and the historical record, and upon his fictional "maltreatment" at the hand of his academic peers and specifically the person(s) who has an academic post that Paarfi rightly or not feels should belong to himself. Paarfi himself becomes a historical character in the narrative through his apparently comedic, yet also relevant asides in much the same way that Goldman's own asides about S. Morganstern's original work (which he is ostensibly abridging) and his commentary about his family life mirror the same "dull parts" that he is supposedly abridging out of the story in the first place.
Which brings me to _Escape Velocity_ by Christopher Stasheff.
The comparison is not immediately obvious here, because the comparison I have in mind is not so much about Paarfi as it is about Steven Brust, the author (as opposed to Steven Brust, the character in the Vladiad). _Escape Velocity_ is a sort of "prequel" to a series of books by Stasheff that begins in the novel _The Warlock in Spite of Himself". In a nutshell, _Escape Velocity_ is a story about the fall of democracy and the escape of the main character from the inevitable aftermath as part of a "twist" ending that one would only recognize as being a "twist" by virtue of already being familiar with the Warlock books.
Among other people that the main character of _Escape Velocity_ encounters as he flees the agents of totalitarianism is an overly educated bartender who turns out to be a college professor who has taken it upon himself to practice a kind of "guerilla education" in an effort to counter the effects of an increasingly intolerant, tribal, and fear-mongering society. (I hesitate to call _Escape Velocity_ prophetic but its vision of how quickly and easily democracy can tip into totalitarianism feels uncomfortably relevant in today's politically charged atmosphere.) Rather than attempt to fight the good fight politically, this character (whose name I regrettably have forgotten) has chosen to fight it one-on-one by engaging his customers individually about their beliefs and attempting to lead them to conclude for themselves both a true understanding of how democracy works and why it is beneficial to them.
To relate this back to TBMV - The further I went into TBMV, the more it seemed to me that Brust had likewise assumed the role of "guerilla educator" using Paarfi as his proxy. Where previous Paarfi novels had themselves entailed a great number of asides by Paarfi about the role of the Historian, the asides in TBMV are as much about History itself and the ways that modern readers are brought to an understanding of it by self-professed Historians as it is about comedic leavening. The comedy comes from Paarfi comparing his personal ideals to the slipshod work and alleged fabrications by his peers, but the ideals themselves offer very real insights into Brust's own ideals about how real-world history is written, presented and interpreted. As a consequence, if the reader spends much thought upon these things, Brust ends up using Paarfi to ask the reader to not only consider the relevance of Historical knowledge upon her own life but to also ask the reader to think critically about that very History and investigate just how "accurate" is the information that the reader has been receiving.
It's unusual to compare a real-life author to a fictional bartender, but if the shoe fits...
In any case, since I called this a "review", I should conclude with a recommendation, which is that anyone who already enjoys the Paarfiad will almost certainly enjoy _The Baron of Magister Valley_. I'm not sure that the "twist" at the end was very twisty - I saw it coming a long way off, and I'm inclined to believe that dedicated readers of the Vladiad will have no problems guessing the identity of another historical character that appears as a result of the events of TBMV. I'd even go so far as to suggest that TBMV is also the "origin story", or at least "chapter one" of the origin story, of yet another beloved Vladiad character as well, but that remains to be seen.
July 20, 2024
A good swashbuckling yarn. Adventure, swords, pirates, revenge, magic and long-lost love all set in the Dragaera world. Brust played with the style of writing and speech in this Count of Monte Cristo inspired story (though the author denied any resemblance). I was amuse and entertained but not all will enjoy this style and will find it far too wordy and slow--I did at times--but if you like the stories of yore pick it up, sit back and delight.
I received a free copy of this book thanks to Netgalley.com and the publisher in return for a fair and impartial review.
I received a free copy of this book thanks to Netgalley.com and the publisher in return for a fair and impartial review.
January 9, 2022
Honestly I really didn't enjoy the book that much. I don't like the Dumas style, but I do generally enjoy the plots of Brust's books. This one just didn't interest me that much. I knew it was going to essentially have the plot from the Count of Monte Christo, so there really wasn't much suspence.
August 12, 2023
This was fun, but not as fun—perhaps becuse the meta-narrative gag here (academic infighting and department politics) is a little too close to home and generally less interesting than the nature-of-truth and structure-of-historiography asides in the previous ones. The plot (at least in its second half) was structured in a much less compelling way than the previous “Paarfi” adventure-romances: basically, we watch the mastermind put his complicated plan into action and it all works like clockwork. I guess it’s prettily constructed, as plans go, but not very exciting (by contrast, for example, one might adduce the oppositioal strategies that resolve each other simultaneously (but not always with the knowledge or intent of the characters who resolve them) in Sethra Lavode). This is not entirely unlike what happens in a Vlad book, but a) the scale of the scheme-explained-in-its-perfect-resolution is much greater and b) the overbearing and tedious success of the protagonist(s) is not evem relieved by the snark of a dragonet companion.
That said, the Paarfi-framing continues to pay dividends (if this reviewer may be forgiven in employing a metaphor more suited to a Chreotha or an Orca) in delightful ways. The parallels of the metanarrative (Paarfi eventually wreaking revenge on his colleague) and the internal narrative (Dust wreaking revenge on his enemies) was so unsubtle as to detract a little from my enjoyment of it as a device, but on the left (as they say in Dragaeara) the honorable historian’s untiring invective against the flaws of less able and upright historians teaches the reader exactly how to be skeptical of his own account, while the patronage of the Princess of Mermaid Cove induces the reader to wonder like a Dzurlord whether certain facts of this history have been—not misrepresented, to be sure, but given an emphasis and an importance that a historian with a different patroness might have neglected. Would the delightful situation and natural beauty of Mermaid Cove have been praised or even mentioned, if this were not the fiefdom of our noble historian’s patron? Would the Countess of Whitecrest have appeared so signally as a the lone beacon of fading imperial order and just governance if this account were not dedicated to a Tiassa?
In the previous histories by Paarfi that we have had the honor to read, the perceptive Hawklord, while expressing all of the opinions that we should expect from a nobleman with regards to the dignity (or lack thereof) of humans of different ranks, nonetheless makes, on occasion, certain ironic observations that, if they do not explicitly critique the social order, stimulate the brain of the reader toward reflection on the inequalities so often considered as natural and ordained by the gods as the Cycle itself. We should never say that the social commentary in this volume is less perceptive than in its predecesors; yet these mocking touches are lacking, and we cannot escape the pretension that on more than one occasion an authorial aside asserts the fundamnetal inequality of nobleman and Teckla in terms quite blunter and more defensive. Perhaps this change mirrors the change of milieu, the petty gentry and bouregois of the Iorich, who are, moreover, concerned with the strict letter of the law and the perquisites and prerogatives appurtained to each thereby, having a stronger necessity to insist on the differentiation between themselves and the proletariat. But we cannot help but wonder (again with our wondering!) whether the book we have just read was indeed the work of Paarfi, as the Princess pretends, or whether (for we would never presume to accuse Her Highness of misrepresentation) she has been imposed upon by a clever forger…
That said, the Paarfi-framing continues to pay dividends (if this reviewer may be forgiven in employing a metaphor more suited to a Chreotha or an Orca) in delightful ways. The parallels of the metanarrative (Paarfi eventually wreaking revenge on his colleague) and the internal narrative (Dust wreaking revenge on his enemies) was so unsubtle as to detract a little from my enjoyment of it as a device, but on the left (as they say in Dragaeara) the honorable historian’s untiring invective against the flaws of less able and upright historians teaches the reader exactly how to be skeptical of his own account, while the patronage of the Princess of Mermaid Cove induces the reader to wonder like a Dzurlord whether certain facts of this history have been—not misrepresented, to be sure, but given an emphasis and an importance that a historian with a different patroness might have neglected. Would the delightful situation and natural beauty of Mermaid Cove have been praised or even mentioned, if this were not the fiefdom of our noble historian’s patron? Would the Countess of Whitecrest have appeared so signally as a the lone beacon of fading imperial order and just governance if this account were not dedicated to a Tiassa?
In the previous histories by Paarfi that we have had the honor to read, the perceptive Hawklord, while expressing all of the opinions that we should expect from a nobleman with regards to the dignity (or lack thereof) of humans of different ranks, nonetheless makes, on occasion, certain ironic observations that, if they do not explicitly critique the social order, stimulate the brain of the reader toward reflection on the inequalities so often considered as natural and ordained by the gods as the Cycle itself. We should never say that the social commentary in this volume is less perceptive than in its predecesors; yet these mocking touches are lacking, and we cannot escape the pretension that on more than one occasion an authorial aside asserts the fundamnetal inequality of nobleman and Teckla in terms quite blunter and more defensive. Perhaps this change mirrors the change of milieu, the petty gentry and bouregois of the Iorich, who are, moreover, concerned with the strict letter of the law and the perquisites and prerogatives appurtained to each thereby, having a stronger necessity to insist on the differentiation between themselves and the proletariat. But we cannot help but wonder (again with our wondering!) whether the book we have just read was indeed the work of Paarfi, as the Princess pretends, or whether (for we would never presume to accuse Her Highness of misrepresentation) she has been imposed upon by a clever forger…
February 9, 2022
"The Baron of Magister Valley" is the latest entry in Brust's series of Dumas rewrites set in the past of his Vlad Taltos series (it would be the ancient past except that his Dragaeran characters live for centuries) and told using the voice of the imaginary Dragaeran (self-proclaimed) historian Paarfi of Roundwood. Paarfi's writing style is overly wordy, unnecessarily ornate, full of weird tics -- especially when it comes to the dialogue, which is the opposite of naturalistic -- and littered with digressions in which Paarfi complains about his literary and historical critics/rivals, who are legion. So I expect that this will not be everybody's cup of tea, but I find the style moderately amusing and don't mind the digressions (although the dialogue gets a bit tiresome after a while). Plus, the books do lend some additional depth to the Dragaera of the Taltos books -- this one turns out to be the backstory of a recurring minor character -- and Brust has some high-quality source material to work with. Having finished with "The Three Musketeers" and its sequels, he has naturally moved on to "The Count of Monte Cristo", but I feel like he doesn't do quite as well with it. It starts off well enough, by having the plot be against the families of both of the Mercedes and Dantes equivalents, so that the former is in hiding, plotting revenge, while the latter is sent off to a mysterious island prison from which nobody escapes. The interlude with the Abbe, here named Magister, is done pretty well -- over the course of centuries, you can learn quite a few skills -- and Brust cleverly uses the disruption of Adron's Disaster, plus a prison-break attempt by his former fiancee, to allow our hero to escape. But the revenge part of the book is less successful. I think this is partly because the Interregnum is quite different from the restoration France of the revenge part of "The Count of Monte Cristo". Operating in a situation where law and order has, if not totally broken down, certainly retreated considerably, lets our hero employ his fortune and skills with a fairly free hand in a way that's less interesting than the careful maneuvering of the Count through high society. The other problem is that Brust entirely eliminates any moral complexity. Our hero's true love is not married to his worst enemy; his betrayers have no children who might or might not deserve to suffer for the sins of their fathers; there are just the bad guys, who clearly don't stand a chance. On the plus side, the introductions -- one by a poet friend of Paarfi's, one by one of his critics -- are a hoot. If you read and liked the previous Dumas rewrites, you won't regret reading this one too -- at the very least, it will pass the time while you wait for the next Taltos book -- but otherwise it's probably safe to skip this one.
December 4, 2020
Can't help but think this stand-alone Dragaera novel, based on The Count of Monte Cristo, should have moved faster at the beginning, when it's glacially establishing who the protagonists are and what crimes were committed against them, and taken more time with the ending, where they get their revenge in a flurry of friction-free plots that whiz by with virtually no time to enjoy them. Part of reading any of Steven Brust's Dragaera romances, based on the style of Alexandre Dumas, is necessarily getting into the rhythms of the ridiculous authorial voice of Paarfi, the pompous yet self-effacing historian "writing" these books, who keeps pausing for self-important discourses on the work of a good historian, and circling around the thoroughly unimportant minutiae of his story while apologizing at length for not knowing other minutiae, and taking time off to slag a rival historian through huffy asides.
The dialogue is a lot more compact than in the early Khaavren books, when the characters could spend two pages at a stretch on "What time is it?" "How, you wish to know the time?" "I do, and the proof is that I asked." "And did you ask because you wish to know?" "And was it unclear that I wish to know?" "And do you then believe that I know the time?" and on and on until someone offers to actually answer the original question, and someone else inevitably says "It is an hour since I asked for anything else!" But there's still a flavor of that kind of arch formality to it. Mostly, though, the barrier to forward movement here is Paarfi, who is an acquired taste that some people won't acquire.
It's hard for me to judge this book on its own rather than as an artifact — another Paarfi book that gets some payoff for his endless vendetta, a Vlad series book with a payoff that really startled and pleased me because I'd forgotten who a particular character is and didn't see the reveal coming, yet another Count of Monte Cristo take. I feel like I spent more time focused on the style of this book than on the story — maybe a natural response to such a familiar story, where style is so foregrounded. I'm glad I read it, it frequently frustrated me, I'm glad I'm done with it.
The dialogue is a lot more compact than in the early Khaavren books, when the characters could spend two pages at a stretch on "What time is it?" "How, you wish to know the time?" "I do, and the proof is that I asked." "And did you ask because you wish to know?" "And was it unclear that I wish to know?" "And do you then believe that I know the time?" and on and on until someone offers to actually answer the original question, and someone else inevitably says "It is an hour since I asked for anything else!" But there's still a flavor of that kind of arch formality to it. Mostly, though, the barrier to forward movement here is Paarfi, who is an acquired taste that some people won't acquire.
It's hard for me to judge this book on its own rather than as an artifact — another Paarfi book that gets some payoff for his endless vendetta, a Vlad series book with a payoff that really startled and pleased me because I'd forgotten who a particular character is and didn't see the reveal coming, yet another Count of Monte Cristo take. I feel like I spent more time focused on the style of this book than on the story — maybe a natural response to such a familiar story, where style is so foregrounded. I'm glad I read it, it frequently frustrated me, I'm glad I'm done with it.
October 21, 2020
This was my introduction to Steven Brust, and I will be reading more of his books in the future - I enjoyed the world building and the sense of humour. This is a retelling of The Count of Montecristo in a fantasy setting (and is even more blatant about it than La reina del sur). The book is written in a very flowery language by a fictional historian, Paarfi of Roundwoog, with an introduction by a fictional poet, and a prologue by a fictional critic. I don't mind the overly flowery language and lengthy dialog, but Paarfi frequently deviates from the narration to grumble against lack of professional recognition for himself and flaws in the study of history and storytelling from other more favored historians. The first few intrusions were funny, but they got quite grating after a while. I am interested in reading the musketeer series too (I like my Dumas!)
The story itself is a blast. Edmond and Mercedes, I mean, Emerit and Livosha, are a young hopeful couple with a bright future ahead, until some sinister plotting results in his imprisonment (jailing?), and later on, revenge. Livosha was quite a treat - she did not just fade into the background and quietly accepted the injustice against her beloved one, like Mercedes, and instead plays a major role in the story. There is plenty of adventure, including sword fights, pirates, and narrow escapes, when not interrupted by Paarfi's rambling.
The story itself is a blast. Edmond and Mercedes, I mean, Emerit and Livosha, are a young hopeful couple with a bright future ahead, until some sinister plotting results in his imprisonment (jailing?), and later on, revenge. Livosha was quite a treat - she did not just fade into the background and quietly accepted the injustice against her beloved one, like Mercedes, and instead plays a major role in the story. There is plenty of adventure, including sword fights, pirates, and narrow escapes, when not interrupted by Paarfi's rambling.
October 7, 2020
I love Paarfi of Roundwood. I am inspired by Paarfi of Roundwood. I love that Brust will often reveal new, interesting, and sometimes revelatory things about the world of Dragaera through the lens of Paarfi of Roundwood's verbose, baroque praise. This book is no exception, and if you are a fan of Brust's work -- especially the Khaavren Romances and yes, the Vlad Taltos books -- you will find new things here wrapped in the hilarious and delightful prose that is typical of Paarfi of Roundwood.
I love Paarfi of Roundwood.
Is this enough to sell you on reading it? I've seen reviews by people for whom this is their first exposure to Brust's work, and while it is atypical, it is, nevertheless, a fair example. If you're reading this review and aren't aware, Paarfi of Roundwood is Steven Brust's homage to the writings of Alexandre Dumas, with each of the Paarfi "historical romances" being set in the living memory (and distant past) of characters from his Vlad Taltos novels while also being pastiches and homages to Dumas's most famous works. This, as you might surmise from the title, is an homage to The Count of Monte Cristo, and on the surface -- a man wrongfully imprisoned by jealous rivals during turbulent historic times escapes his prison (well, all right, jail, since he's never actually charged for a crime) and proceeds to acquire wealth and then exact revenge -- that's exactly what it is.
But to those readers of the Vlad books -- SPOILER -- this is also the surprising backstory to a crucial character from those stories, as well as giving Paarfi his own subtextual story in the text and in the foreword and afterword of the novel as well.
So while it's a great standalone novel -- as, I like to think, all of Brust's works are -- it is also a clever and surprising piece of the great jigsaw puzzle that is all of Brust's Dragaera works.
I loved it. But, again, I love Paarfi.
I love Paarfi of Roundwood.
Is this enough to sell you on reading it? I've seen reviews by people for whom this is their first exposure to Brust's work, and while it is atypical, it is, nevertheless, a fair example. If you're reading this review and aren't aware, Paarfi of Roundwood is Steven Brust's homage to the writings of Alexandre Dumas, with each of the Paarfi "historical romances" being set in the living memory (and distant past) of characters from his Vlad Taltos novels while also being pastiches and homages to Dumas's most famous works. This, as you might surmise from the title, is an homage to The Count of Monte Cristo, and on the surface -- a man wrongfully imprisoned by jealous rivals during turbulent historic times escapes his prison (well, all right, jail, since he's never actually charged for a crime) and proceeds to acquire wealth and then exact revenge -- that's exactly what it is.
But to those readers of the Vlad books -- SPOILER -- this is also the surprising backstory to a crucial character from those stories, as well as giving Paarfi his own subtextual story in the text and in the foreword and afterword of the novel as well.
So while it's a great standalone novel -- as, I like to think, all of Brust's works are -- it is also a clever and surprising piece of the great jigsaw puzzle that is all of Brust's Dragaera works.
I loved it. But, again, I love Paarfi.
August 26, 2020
The author's books are not just well-written, they're SO much fun! I've been a fan for years and am always happy when he releases a new novel. In the Dragaera novels, he's created a world, which is difficult enough, but after many novels written in this world, he has also kept his material fresh. He's written action/adventure books that explore economy, law, shipping, crime, race and many other topics that are not usually fodder in this genre. And the fact that all of these books are still incredibly entertaining is a testament to the author's talent.
In this novel, he puts his own spin on the Dumas classic "The Count of Monte Cristo". It is handled deftly with this usual combination of action mixed with humor. This novel gives even more time to fictional narrator Paarfi, a historian/scholar writing about the Dragaeran past. Paarfi is a really fun character in his own right, and ostensibly writes about historical characters as well. So in this novel, the reader learns about the science/art of History thru long digressions by Paarfi about the challenges of writing effectively about the past. To be honest, I finished this novel conflicted. I love the original work by Dumas, so felt a bit cheated about such an obvious homage. The long Paarfi digression on history became a bit tedious, especially when they interrupted the plot/action of the novel. But i want to be clear: a Brust novel is like pizza or sex. Even when its not the best, its still better than almost anything else out there. This is the reason for the 4 stars. Currently, as quarantine during a pandemic, we are consuming entertainment content at a furious rate. So a Brust book being released now is a huge gift and one which we need right now.
In this novel, he puts his own spin on the Dumas classic "The Count of Monte Cristo". It is handled deftly with this usual combination of action mixed with humor. This novel gives even more time to fictional narrator Paarfi, a historian/scholar writing about the Dragaeran past. Paarfi is a really fun character in his own right, and ostensibly writes about historical characters as well. So in this novel, the reader learns about the science/art of History thru long digressions by Paarfi about the challenges of writing effectively about the past. To be honest, I finished this novel conflicted. I love the original work by Dumas, so felt a bit cheated about such an obvious homage. The long Paarfi digression on history became a bit tedious, especially when they interrupted the plot/action of the novel. But i want to be clear: a Brust novel is like pizza or sex. Even when its not the best, its still better than almost anything else out there. This is the reason for the 4 stars. Currently, as quarantine during a pandemic, we are consuming entertainment content at a furious rate. So a Brust book being released now is a huge gift and one which we need right now.
August 6, 2020
It's worth talking about what this book is and what it is not.
What it is is a tongue-in-cheek pastiche of The Count of Monte Christo set in the fantasy world that Brust has written like, I dunno, twenty books in, something like half a dozen of which are in this sort of self-aware deliberately overwrought Dumas style. I grew up on Dumas and this is basically catnip for me, There aren't that many books I laugh out loud multiple times while reading, while still being a snappy adventure yarn.
What it is not is basically a giant saga of revenge. One of the interesting things about the Count of Monte Christo is that he spends like 700 pages just revenging over and over again. I haven't read Monte Christo in many years (it's very very long) and most of the well known parts pop culturewise happen toward the beginning, the rest is just like endless revenge melodrama.
This book is a lot tighter both to its benefit and its detriment. On the one hand, it doesn't drag and it's very enjoyable, on the other hand, the revenge is not very satisfying, it mostly happens relatively quickly all at once, and the whole thing is pretty predictable, though Brust does put in a few curve balls in the middle so it's not just a Monte Christo ripoff.
Anyway, this probably isn't a good place to start (see The Phoenix Guards) so if you're looking at this you kind of know if it's your thing, but I had a great time reading this and I thought it was a lot stronger than a lot of the later Paarfi books, which I found pretty forgettable.
What it is is a tongue-in-cheek pastiche of The Count of Monte Christo set in the fantasy world that Brust has written like, I dunno, twenty books in, something like half a dozen of which are in this sort of self-aware deliberately overwrought Dumas style. I grew up on Dumas and this is basically catnip for me, There aren't that many books I laugh out loud multiple times while reading, while still being a snappy adventure yarn.
What it is not is basically a giant saga of revenge. One of the interesting things about the Count of Monte Christo is that he spends like 700 pages just revenging over and over again. I haven't read Monte Christo in many years (it's very very long) and most of the well known parts pop culturewise happen toward the beginning, the rest is just like endless revenge melodrama.
This book is a lot tighter both to its benefit and its detriment. On the one hand, it doesn't drag and it's very enjoyable, on the other hand, the revenge is not very satisfying, it mostly happens relatively quickly all at once, and the whole thing is pretty predictable, though Brust does put in a few curve balls in the middle so it's not just a Monte Christo ripoff.
Anyway, this probably isn't a good place to start (see The Phoenix Guards) so if you're looking at this you kind of know if it's your thing, but I had a great time reading this and I thought it was a lot stronger than a lot of the later Paarfi books, which I found pretty forgettable.
October 28, 2020
I am writing this critique to address Mr. Brust directly if he ever bothers to read book reports like the type I normally write. Let’s preface this by first indicating that I am a huge Brust fan. His books have a place of honor in my collection which is now over 1,000 fantasy novels and I am planning on rereading all of Vlad’s novels.
That being said, this book was awful. Not just because of the haughty prose, which reminds me of running in mud, but because of the highest expectations I have whenever I pick up a Brust novel. Yes, I have read the other novels that are a part of the pre-modern Empire sequence and that they are written similarly and that this should be of no surprise. However, the story is a modified version of the Count of Monte Cristina, as he apologizes for at the start of the novel, the novel moves at a glacial pace, and it’s simply not a very interesting story.
Please please please, go back to the true storyline that made you a genius in the first place. More Vlad , Vlad , Vlad, Kragar, Sethra etc. and no more of these stories which I feel waste both of our precious time on this planet. Get back to the bread and butter that made you great or simply send out a communication that you are retiring. You once had the reader in the palm of your hands. What happened? Why are we not going through more Vlad adventures? Come on!!! Get with the program and recapture greatness. If R.A. Salvatore could do it in 2020, you can do it in 2021. What is stopping you? My rant is over.
That being said, this book was awful. Not just because of the haughty prose, which reminds me of running in mud, but because of the highest expectations I have whenever I pick up a Brust novel. Yes, I have read the other novels that are a part of the pre-modern Empire sequence and that they are written similarly and that this should be of no surprise. However, the story is a modified version of the Count of Monte Cristina, as he apologizes for at the start of the novel, the novel moves at a glacial pace, and it’s simply not a very interesting story.
Please please please, go back to the true storyline that made you a genius in the first place. More Vlad , Vlad , Vlad, Kragar, Sethra etc. and no more of these stories which I feel waste both of our precious time on this planet. Get back to the bread and butter that made you great or simply send out a communication that you are retiring. You once had the reader in the palm of your hands. What happened? Why are we not going through more Vlad adventures? Come on!!! Get with the program and recapture greatness. If R.A. Salvatore could do it in 2020, you can do it in 2021. What is stopping you? My rant is over.
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