My very favorite works by Michael A. Stackpole (outside of his seminal work on the old EA role-playing game, Wasteland, not only based on his Mercenaries, Spies, and Private Eyes tabletop role-playing game but also served as the spiritual ancestor to the Fallout series of computer games) are trilogies. I loved the Warrior: En Garde series in the Battletech universe and I loved the Fiddleback trilogy in the Dark Conspiracy universe. Other people love his Shadowrun stories and his Star Wars novels (particularly those in the New Jedi Order). I liked the two trilogies because of the intricate conspiracies that formed the warp and woof of their worlds/universes. I relished much of Once a Hero, but this Age of Discovery trilogy, beginning with A Secret Atlas may become my favorite. It has all the things I love about Stack at the top of his game—unexpected betrayals, secret motives, character flaws, dazzling action sequences (which would require sophisticated CGI to film), rivalries, political machinations, and mysterious secrets to be unveiled. Plus, the richly textured fantasy universe which seems to blend the best of Chinese and Korean culture (with occasional Japanese adornments) with fantastic elements just really floats my dhow (or, should that be Tao?).
These fantastic elements can mesmerize. A barbarian’s tattoo isn’t “inked,” it is fletched—feathers embedded in his body in a magical ceremony (p. 196). The Vrilxingnaridin (say that twice, fast) desecrate the graves of heroes, grind their bones into dust, and either sell or inhale the powder (much like Keith Richards’ alleged and probably apocryphal snorting of his father’s ashes) in order that the skill and courage of the dead heroes would be endowed to others (much as primitives drink the blood of slain animals and enemies to gain speed, strength, skill, and vitality—p. 207). The Wavewolf, a ship missing for a generation, appears out of nowhere with tattered sails and alligator-esque humanoids “crewing” it (p. 398). Later, during the aftermath of a magical storm, a person is transformed into a human-shaped community of beetles and functions as such for a number of hours before dissipating (p. 536). These are fascinating elements of a richly architected world.
The Chinese accents are spot-on. Some of the novel’s mysticism is tied to pseudo-Confucian sayings like, “The just sip from the river of Reward, the greedy drown in it.” (p. 149) Another might be, “The dog awaits his Master’s pleasure and is rewarded. Impotent barks breed only displeasure.” (p. 331) “The danger of dreams comes when one acts on them as if they are prophecy.” (p. 428) The quotation just cited is just one of the many with a familiar ring and just enough difference to be interesting. Plus, the descriptions of embroidered robes and significance of colors (including white as the color of mourning) gives it that Old World Chinese or Korean atmosphere. Plus, there is a race called the Fenn which, in spite of sounding Irish, seems much more akin to Chinese and Korean legend where human-like figures transforms into beasts, “…never quite looking like a dog, wolf, mountain cat, bear, or badger, but a mongrel mix of any two.” (p. 310). Yet, there are also Aztec influences to be seen in pyramids and a god named “Tetcomchoa” with its feathered serpent symbol in one of the freshly discovered civilizations (p. 524). So, Stackpole is definitely creating a diverse global feel for his fantasy world.
The humor and insults aren’t bad, either. On one occasion, a younger brother says to his older brother, “You’re so bad with a blade that an apple doesn’t get worried when you approach it with a paring knife.” (p. 227) Early in the book, there is a marvelous rhyme about religious giving: “Loud in prayer, but in offerings spare.” (p. 4) I also loved the incident where excessive alcohol saved a village of teetotalers (pp. 315-17). At another point, a worried character’s expression of “Oh, my! Oh, my!” becomes an onomatopoeic expression voiced by a creature as “Omaiamaia!” (p. 466)
I also liked the emphasis on “wargaming.” All sides have a tradition of using miniatures both to plan and magically conceive the plans of the enemy (for example, on p. 217 and p. 235). Of course, they can also lead to overconfidence as they do for one ill-prepared ruler (p. 384). There are even miniatures cast to honor various heroes and miniatures which provide transitional foci for plots and scenes. One would almost think that Stack had a television mini-series in mind because these little vignettes are so…well…focused!
Underneath the epic of exploration of desolate wastes where wild magic has transformed and continues to transform the land, there are rather more human considerations. For example, I rather enjoyed the discussion of technological advancement on p. 379 where the apprentice xidantzu (essentially a samurai) complains: “…it confers on the untrained skills that ordinarily require years of study. It will erode respect for those who have developed skills. Hard work will become a thing of the past.” The apprentice could just as easily be describing computers or the world-wide web. And, of course, the debate sets up a marvelous action sequence some 100 pages later when a humanoid challenges one of the magical machines the xidantzu apprentice was complaining about (p. 485). Again, there is a time when Prince Cyron reflects upon the ruthlessness of his father and grandfather as a virtue, but “For him, with his father’s program of exploration, he saw the world as one of expanding resources, not a limited supply that necessitated rationing.” (p. 416) Does one sense Hyekian optimism here as opposed to Keynesian pessimism? I also rather enjoy that Stackpole posits one of the civilizations discovered to be a meritocracy (p. 500).
There are only, in my opinion (for whatever that’s worth), two weaknesses in A Secret Atlas. The first is that there is a significant death late in the work that is worthy of a George R. R. Martin effort in that it brutally and sadistically kills a character with which one has a certain emotional attachment. In fact, it is done in such a way that much of the groundwork in said character seems rather wasted. That seemed gratuitous and imitative rather than masterful, as is much of Stack’s work. The second is that this volume is not, as I personally believe should be the case, self-contained as the first volume in a trilogy. Too much is left open-ended and, again in something of a George R. R. Martin style, the ending feels abruptly cut off. A Secret Atlas would quickly have generated an additional star from me (and the sequel, Cartomancy, may well do so) if it hadn’t been for these two weaknesses.